could be worse than seeing a last-minute customer walk through the door. Or turning them down and telling them to come back tomorrow, which she did only when she had an emergency of her own, a rare occurrence.
“I’m so sorry, Isla. My hot yoga class got out a little late,” Samantha McCallister said, practically out of breath. “I raced over here as fast as I could. Can you fit me in?”
“Of course,” Isla said, trying not to show her disappointment. No way could she afford to turn Samantha McCallister away.
“Thanks so much, Isla. You’re such a sweetheart.”
“Really, it’s no problem at all.”
“You’re a doll to take me without an appointment like this. What time do you normally close?”
“Five, usually, but it’s no prob.”
“I’m making you stay late? You must think I’m a real witch.”
“As long as you don’t cast a spell on me, we’re good.”
“No spell from this gal.” Samantha laughed. “But I will make sure to leave you a nice tip for being so accommodating.”
“It’s really not necessary, Samantha.”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear another word,” she said, shaking her headful of hair. “Do your magic, girl. You know how I like it.”
“Shampoo too?” Which meant extra time.
“The works, please,” Samantha said, sitting down in the shampoo station.
“The works” would take an hour, at minimum. Isla sighed and resigned herself to being in the shop until past six. Samantha closed her eyes and seemed to relax. Isla figured that if she was going to stay late, she might as well treat her most valued client in the best possible fashion.
“Can I get you a glass of Chablis before I start?”
“Oh my God. Are you the best stylist in the world or what?”
Isla went back and poured a chilled glass of Chablis. She kept bottles on hand for certain clients, knowing that these women liked to drink. Determined to get answers to her questions, she offered the glass to Samantha.
“This is the highlight of my day,” Samantha said, taking the glass. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure.”
“How’s Katie doing?” Samantha took a healthy sip.
“She’s home, recuperating.” Isla wrapped the styling cape around her like a bullfighter, then reclined the chair so that the back of Samantha’s head rested against the sink. “The doctor says it might be a while before her memory returns in full.”
“Poor thing. Beckett was out volunteering with the search party today. Such a shame about Willow.”
“Do you know Willow very well?”
“Not very. The Briggses live next door to us, but we’re not particularly close. Julian’s told me she’s a nice girl, but I often wonder. She certainly doesn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“I know Julian doesn’t show much emotion, but he’s really shaken up about all this.”
“That’s too bad.” She shut off the water and began to towel dry Samantha’s hair. When it was sufficiently dried, she directed Samantha to sit in the styling chair.
“We thought that moving here from New York City would be a better fit for us, especially for Julian. Beckett had had enough stress for two lifetimes working on Wall Street, and Julian definitely needed a change.”
“Why’s that?” Isla pinched a slice of hair between forefinger and middle finger and then snipped off a half an inch.
“The usual bad habits city kids find themselves getting into. Julian absolutely hated that prep school he attended. Told me all the kids there were rich and spoiled, and were backstabbing conformists who stifled his creativity. It’s not what Beckett and I wanted for our child. So we thought that by moving here, we could live a slower life and allow him to be whoever he wants to be.”
“And how has that worked out?”
“Great, for the most part. Then this happened. Oh, and the disappearance of his classmate Dakota.”
“Crimes like this never happened before in sleepy Shepherd’s Bay.”
“Until us out-of-towners started moving in?” Samantha turned, opened one eye, and gazed at her.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Isla said, suddenly fearful she might have offended her.
“Relax, hon.” Samantha patted her hand. “I know what you meant. You’ve been a victim in all this, too.”
Isla fingered and snipped, fingered and snipped, afraid to say something else stupid.
“People don’t realize how difficult it is to move to an entirely different locale, where no one knows you and you have to start all over from scratch,” Samantha commented.
“Must be hard.”
“You don’t know the half of it. And then there’s finding good help. At