least in Manhattan we had a network of cleaners and cooks we could call on at our disposal. Granted, most of them were Latinos, but they are wonderful and hardworking people. And there was an abundant supply of them living in the city.”
“I see.”
“Did you know that Maine is the whitest state in the nation? And the oldest. I just read that somewhere. Isn’t that ridiculous? Where’s all the diversity?”
By that she meant, Where were all the young minorities to serve them?
Samantha continued. “On one hand, it’s so worth living here, if only for the low crime rate and amazing views. And yet try finding a dependable landscaper in this town.”
“I know, right?”
“Honestly, I shouldn’t complain, especially when you give me the best haircut I’ve ever had, and at a fraction of the cost of those high-end salons in SoHo.”
“The rents there must be exorbitant.”
“Sky high. And if this town passes that silly property tax, you can kiss this salon good-bye.”
“I can?” Samantha’s words alarmed her.
“Beckett bought this building as an investment when we first moved here. That’s how I initially found your salon. He’s saying that if the council passes that tax on properties over a half a million dollars, he’ll need to tear this building down and put up something that will bring in more revenue.”
The hairs on the back of Isla’s neck stood on end at the idea of losing this shop, especially after all the money she’d borrowed to remodel it. It’d be like she had tossed it all into the ocean. Then there was her grandfather’s legacy that needed protecting.
“You should tell all your friends and neighbors what will happen if this stupid proposition passes,” Samantha added.
Isla thought about her family finances. She tabulated the costs of Raisin’s medicine, Katie’s therapy, and all her daughter’s future mental health counseling, as well as the mortgage and other bills that needed to be paid every month.
“Listen, Isla, we’re having a fund-raiser tomorrow night at my club for Laura Milton. She’s running for that open town council seat and is a vociferous opponent of that hideous tax hike. You should attend.”
“Me?” Combed and snipped, snipped and combed.
“Yes, you. It would be wonderful to have you join us, especially since you know this town better than anyone. And you never know, you might pick up a few new clients while you’re there.”
“Let me think about it,” Isla said.
“Considering all that’s at stake for you and your family, I wouldn’t think too long,” Samantha said. “Besides, it’ll be a lot of fun. Good food, champagne, and a lovely string quartet.”
Samantha closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Happy for the break, Isla worked in silence. It amazed her that this woman could be so breezy and carefree, considering that her neighbor had gone missing and Isla’s own daughter was still in recovery. It only reenforced the notion that life went on for most people. Not for the victims, necessarily, but for everyone else. The victims lived with the ongoing trauma on a daily basis, while everyone else worried about haircuts, gardeners, and dumb property tax hikes.
The invitation to that fund-raiser replayed in her mind. She didn’t want to go, if for no other reason than she had nothing decent to wear. Oh, she had some nice clothes, clothes more fitting for church functions and casual get-togethers. Nothing daring or risqué, like she used to wear in her twenties. Certainly nothing for a fancy party on Harper’s Point. If she decided to attend, which she knew she would, she’d need to go out and buy a new outfit—an outfit she couldn’t really afford.
She felt conflicted about attending this event. It felt inappropriate to appear at a political fund-raiser when a girl from their own part of town, as well as a boy, was still missing. Not to mention Katie and the ordeal she’d gone through. Would people know Katie was her daughter? She knew it would be difficult to be on her game and act all bubbly and happy. It would require focus and concentration, the very skills needed to become a successful hairstylist. She’d need to act like she had in all those plays she starred in back at Shepherd’s Bay High, as well as in the few community theater productions she’d performed in before settling down with a family.
And yet she badly needed the clientele that might come her way if she attended the event. Samantha’s invitation felt more like a demand, an implied threat. If she handled