waltzed in as if she’d just come from a society luncheon. It amazed Isla how these women always managed to look their best for any occasion. It had gotten to the point where she could tell the townies from the newcomers at a single glance.
After a hearty good morning, delivered with the slightest hint of a Southern drawl, Brooke stood next to her and gazed up at the television. Gil continued to struggle through the interview, begging for whoever had kidnapped Willow to show mercy and set her free. He tearfully admitted that he’d do anything to get his daughter back. Isla was instantly struck by the fact that he used the singular pronoun I instead of the plural we.
“It’s such a shame what happened to that girl,” Brooke said, crossing her arms and exposing her manicured French nails. “You must be so happy that your daughter is back home with you.”
“Yes, I’m very thankful.” Isla felt her eyes start to water.
“Awww! I didn’t mean to make you cry, girl.”
“I just feel so sorry for the Briggs family.”
“No offense, but it’s not like they provided that girl with a whole lot of guidance in life. It seemed to me that she did whatever she wanted.” She walked to the styling chair and sat down, then swiveled in it so that she could look up at the television. “If I’d acted like that at her age, my father would have opened up a can of whup ass on me.” Brooke laughed in a way Isla thought insensitive, considering the circumstances.
She wrapped the cape around Brooke while she eyed the television. The reporter had just finished interviewing Gil when Felicia literally dropped out of the picture. The focus of the camera wavered before the TV screen showed Felicia passed out on the grass. People ran over and tended to her, and the reporter handed off to the local news desk.
“Did she just faint on live TV?” Brooke asked.
“Poor thing.”
“Poor?” Brooke laughed. “Have you seen their home? Maybe poor isn’t the most accurate word to describe Felicia Briggs.”
“No, I didn’t think so.”
“I’ve been inside that home, and stunning doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
“What’s it like?”
“Like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” Brooke turned her wrist and examined her polished nails. “You mean you haven’t been?”
“Not to my recollection.”
“Well, honey, you’re not missing much on the personal end of things. Gil Briggs is an interminable boor, and his wife acts like she’s royalty. Thinks she’s better than everyone else on the Point. Those two were made for each other.”
Isla wanted to tighten the cape and strangle this woman, but she kept her mouth shut and combed the woman’s long, lustrous hair. Brooke came in every two weeks for a trim. For that reason alone, she couldn’t afford to offend her.
“Still, I hope Felicia manages to survive this crisis. I’ll call the girls at the club later, and we’ll send her a nice bouquet.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Isla told her.
“It sure is, seeing how the Briggses managed to steal all the good help in town. Consider yourself lucky in that regard.”
She understood the subtext of Brooke’s statement: she was a poor townie.
“Between you and me, hon, I heard through the grapevine that those kids had a wild party the night Willow and your daughter went missing,” Brooke revealed.
“Oh?” This was news to her.
“Now, I don’t know that to be a fact. One of the girls at the club told me that, and there’s no reason to doubt her.” Brooke turned to look her, an annoying habit that she did too often and that forced Isla to stop cutting and wait for her to turn her head back around. “I wouldn’t tell you this if your daughter hadn’t been found.”
“What’s said in this shop stays in this shop.”
“Like Vegas. I love it.”
“If you can’t trust your stylist, then who can you trust?”
“Exactly.” Brooke glanced briefly at her phone. “Between you and me, I heard that Willow is a hellion on wheels and that her parents can’t keep her in line. Sure, she’s beautiful and talented and all that, but those are often the most screwed-up kids.”
“Katie never mentioned any of that to me.”
“You were a teenager once. You really think your daughter would confide in you like that?”
Katie had always been straight up with her . . . until recently. Isla wondered if she’d been naive all this time.
Brooke went on. “I also heard that she was involved with both the James boy and Julian McCallister.