Wave Good-Bye (5 page)

“I really don’t have time for this.” She cut me off. “I have a date at seven tonight with Wynn Goodman.”

I felt my jaw drop. “Wynn?”

She might as well have punched me in the gut.

“Yes, that’s right. Wynn is in town to do staff development. I told him you were working in your mother’s salon. He was shocked. Absolutely shocked. ‘What a total waste of talent,’ he said. ‘Of all the stylists I’ve trained, Grace Ann is the one I thought would go the distance.’” She smirked at me. “Of course, I had to give him the bad news. You didn’t go the distance. In fact, you certainly didn’t go very far, did you?”

I stumbled backward, nearly tripping over my basket as some of the items popped out onto the floor. “Wynn,” I said.

“Uh-huh. We’ve been seeing each other for several months now. In fact, I need to get going. He’s taking me to Enchanté, that new French restaurant everyone’s raving about.”

She sniffed and looked more closely at the spilled contents of my basket. “Poor you. Looks like dinner alone. Again. See you around, loser!”

Chapter Five

AT THE CHECKOUT COUNTER, I THREW IN TWO whoopie pies, a bag of peanuts in the shell, and a couple of bottles of RC Cola just for good measure. You never know when there’s going to be a shortage of major food groups.

Then I dragged my sorry self home to a converted carriage house two blocks from where Mom lives.

The fried chicken was cold and more batter than bird. The French fries were soggy, and there was a piece of cob in the green beans. I dragged down my secret photo album, the one with pictures of Wynn and me. On the cover was a handwritten note:
STOP! Do NOT open. In case of emergency, call Vonda.
Drawing on my tremendous willpower (not), I put the album back in its usual place at the bottom of my undie drawer.

I unlocked my smart phone and gave my BFF a call.

“Magnolia House Bed and Breakfast, now booking for the holidays. Please stay on the line, because we really want to talk to y’all!”

After three rounds of that cheery message I gave up. I cracked open a Bud Light, finished it, and felt even sorrier for myself. The album beckoned. I turned on the TV, cruised the channels, and finally watched ten minutes of
The Real Housewives of Atlanta
before I couldn’t stand any more. I picked up the latest adventure of Stephanie Plum and flipped it open to my bookmark, a tired Chinese takeout menu.

After having a rough time tracking down criminals, Stephanie was feeding Rex, her hamster, who lived in a Campbell’s tomato soup can. Empty, of course.

“That’s it!” I bounced up off my sofa. “I need a pet. That’s what’s missing from my life.”

Of course, in the back of my mind, I knew it was nearly seven o’clock and that Pet Emporium was right across the street from Enchanté, but if you would have asked me, I would have looked you straight in the eye and said, “Really? Do tell?”

Downtown St. Elizabeth proper comprises three city blocks square, with a municipal parking lot sandwiched smack-dab in the middle. I pulled my Fiesta into the only empty space, a spot by the Denny’s, and crossed the street to Pet Emporium.

“You fixing to close?” I asked yet another pimply faced young man who was standing behind the checkout lane counting dollar bills. I made a mental note that if I ever had any extra money I would buy stock in Proactiv. On second glance, his name sprang to my lips. “Petey Schultz? You’re Ray’s younger brother, right?”

He grimaced and nodded.

Ray Schultz had been a year behind Vonda and me in high school. Ray was one of those troublemakers who mainly makes trouble for himself. Several times he’d been caught pulling stupid stunts like spraying graffiti on the Highway 40 overpass, gunning his motor at stoplights, and smoking dope under the bleachers during football games. Once his rap sheet got too full, he decided to enlist and join the army. Two months after boot camp, a roadside bomb killed him. His mother claimed she had a vision of his death before it happened and knew her son was being called to his glory. Or so she claimed. Since she was a known drunk, most of us murmured our sympathies, shook our heads, and walked away.

“We’re open until nine, most nights, but I’m closing a little early tonight.”

“To see the game?”

“Nah. Got to check on an installation we did for a business. A real whack job.” Petey rocked from side to side, with his face twisted into a frown. “If I’m done with her in time, I’d like to go to the homecoming game.”

“This shouldn’t take long. I’m looking for a pet.”

“No kidding? You do realize this is a pet store.”

“Right.”

“Any certain type of pet?”

“A hamster. Stephanie Plum has a hamster named Rex. That would be a good pet, wouldn’t it? Loving, sweet, easy to keep.”

“I don’t know about Stephanie Peaches, or her hamster, but our hamsters? They bite.” And he held up a bandaged finger.

“Fish. Fish would be good.”

“You know anything about setting up a tank?”

“No, but I’d like a saltwater aquarium.” Rachel had been so impressed by the one at Snippets. Why not get one for my apartment?

With a jerk of his head, he motioned me over to a display featuring a wide variety of tanks. I leaned over and looked at the price of a combination tank, filter, and light. “Yikes!”

“That’s just for the tank. Check out the cost of the fish.”

I did and couldn’t believe it. A couple of them cost as much as one week’s after-tax pay for me.

“Ix-nay on the ish-fay.”

He picked at a scab on his neck. “Considered a kitten? Those are always popular.”

I thought about Beauty. I like her, and even though she’s officially Stella’s cat, she’s sort of the shop cat, so it would feel like cheating on her to bring home a smaller, cuter version. Thanks to my ex-husband, I knew exactly how that felt. “No cats.”

The paper bag he’d been carrying moved.

“What’s in there?”

“Parakeet.”

“Don’t they usually live in cages? Bird cages?”

“Not if you’re going to kill them.” He shrugged and walked back over to the checkout area.

“Kill them?” My voice went up an entire octave. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s kinder than letting his friends peck him to death.” Setting the bag on the counter, he studied it, picked up a bag of marbles, hefted it, and appeared to calculate the arc of the wallop he’d need to flatten the sack.

“Peck him to death?”

“They’ve already taken out his eye. If I put him back in the big display cage, they’ll finish him off.”

“What were you planning to do with him? I mean, how were you planning…?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Look, I’ll take him.”

“You haven’t even seen him.”

“I know. And since he’s only got one eye, he probably can’t see me real well, either. So we’re even.”

We spent the next ten minutes gathering everything I needed to make my new friend feel at home: cage, water and food cups, bird seed, cuttlebone, perch-cleaning tool, and a mirror.

“Um, maybe not the mirror.” I was trying to be sensitive. “But let’s add that bell inside the ball. That might be fun for him. Rolling it around would give him exercise.”

“Right. You might want a book on budgies, being a beginner and all.”

I agreed, and the kid rang everything up. I looked over the receipt. “You charged me for the parakeet.”

“Yup.”

“But you were going to kill it.”

“Still can.” He sighed. “I’m saving up for a Fender guitar. Loss control is a high priority for the company, and I want to get my bonus. Had a little setback recently. Okay, a big setback. I’d really rather sell the bird, but if you insist…” He lifted the bag of marbles menacingly and let it hover over the restless paper bag.

“No. I’m fine. We’re fine. Really.” My bill resembled the debt of a small nation. I handed over my credit card.

“Better hang on to the receipt. I’m not entirely sure he’s going to make it.”

Chapter Six

FROM UNDER THE COUNTER, HE PULLED A COLORFUL box with the printed legend, “I’m going home!” With a deft move, he dumped the contents of the bag into the box. I heard a faint, “Cheep? Cheep?”

The kid studied the box. A cartoon of Tweetie Pie stood out against the bright blue background. It smelled faintly of feathers and seed. “Might as well give you the ointment the vet suggested for his eye.” He tossed me a slender tube.

“Thanks.”

With the colorful box under my arm, and the cage loaded in my car, I turned over the engine on my Fiesta. By then, it was seven thirty, and I knew I should go straight home. But it wouldn’t hurt to drive around for a few minutes, would it? I could leave through the nearby exit or I could drive
over to the exit closer to Enchanté. Sure, I might see Lisa and Wynn, but what were the chances really? I mean, Lisa Butterworth was probably lying just like she’d told a big whopper to get ahold of our client list. Slowing down to a crawl, I drove along the line of cars.

Wouldn’t you know it? There under the security light stood Lisa and Wynn. The years hadn’t changed him. His sun-streaked blond hair was still gorgeous, his shoulders broad, his hips narrow, and his legs long. I got woozy just seeing him from afar.

Better yet, he and Lisa were fighting under a streetlamp in the municipal parking lot. You could tell from their body language.

With a smile on my face, I forced myself to drive to the parking lot exit. I planned to go home. But now, that I was feeling better, I thought I’d drive past Snippets. After all, I wouldn’t run into either Lisa or Wynn. Besides, Rachel’s description aroused my curiosity.

I pulled out onto Reynolds Street and turned right instead of left. Slowing down, I spotted the well-lit pink and black sign with a pair of scissors slicing the word “Snippets” into “Snipp” and “ets.” Much smarter than dividing it at “Snip” and “pets,” I thought. Mostly the salon was dark, but there was a little light coming from the back, probably a night light or security light. Pulling my Fiesta into an empty parking space, I slipped the car into park.

Should I? Or should I not?

We have always had a great working relationship with Peter at Chez Pierre. I’d been in his shop hundreds of times. Once, he ran out of a certain hair-coloring formula, and I ran a bottle over to him. I had hoped we’d have a similar professional affiliation with Snippets. In fact, Mom and I really should have gone over and said hello after they opened. That would have been the neighborly thing to do.

Now that pretty much seemed out of the question. But I did want to see the salon for myself.

“You stay here,” I told the box on the passenger’s seat. The parakeet’s feet scrambled along on the slick surface, scratching against the cardboard. I bet he’d be happy to get back up on a perch. I don’t know a lot about birds, but I know they aren’t designed to walk on flat surfaces.

First I grabbed a flashlight from my glove compartment and did a quick recon, scouting my way around the building from the street and side lots. The flashlight bulb flickered but it didn’t matter. I hardly needed it because there was an orange glow to the sodium-vapor security light illuminating the front door, another at each side, and one at the back of the building. Once I felt certain no one was around to notice me, I walked down the sidewalk toward the front door, enjoying the heady sweet fragrance of petunias in the window boxes and planters. If anyone asked, I planned to say I was checking out their hours, which I was. Kind of.

Three feet from the front door, I stopped. I could see the various lights of appliances and electrical outlets. I could also make out a watery-looking light. Moving closer, I could tell it was part of the fish tank, but I couldn’t see any fish. Even from my vantage point outside, I could tell it was ginormous.

Next, I walked around to the back of the building. I wasn’t sure what I’d say if I was spotted en route. Maybe that I was looking for a shortcut back to the parking lot.

Really, from every vantage point, Snippets looked super. Totally inviting and keeping with the Southern charm of our town. The clapboard siding was white, the shutters black, and a passing set of headlights illuminated petunias in a riotous shade of pink. A sign in the back noted spots for employee parking. One even announced, “Employee of the Month!” By now, I was feeling pretty good about my expedition.