Page 65 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
Heidi’s brow furrows as she looks at me. “A plan?”
“You wanted to go to the hair place,” I remind her. “And ask them about the day you can’t remember.”
“Oh, right,” she says as her expression clears. She refolds her little piece of paper and then shoves it back in her pocket. “Yes. I do want to do that.” When she reaches up to touch her hair, I say,
“How is your forehead feeling?”
“Not bad at all,” she says, letting her fingers drift over the bandage. “I barely notice it.”
“Good,” I say. “Well, when do you want to go to the hair place?” What is that called, anyway? A hair salon? A hair stylist? A barber shop? Are those all different things?
“Let’s go this afternoon,” she says. She leans back against the counter just as Mel bustles around the corner from the main kitchen. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” Mel says, looking frazzled. “I lost track of time, and I left the last batch of scones in for too long. They came out dry and brown.”
Heidi frowns. “Do we still have some in the front?”
“Yes,” Mel says. “We have enough for now. We won’t run out probably until the afternoon rush. I’m just annoyed at myself.”
Heidi waves this away. “Don’t stress about it, then. Just do another batch. Do you need another set of hands?”
Mel’s shoulders relax slightly, some of the tension leaking out of her. “No, I don’t think so,” she says.
“All right,” Heidi says with a shrug. “Well, let me know.”
“Thanks,” Mel says, and then she’s off again, bustling back around the corner to the kitchen proper.
Then Heidi turns to me. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
I nod. “Where?”
“I have a special list-making haven that I’m willing to share with you,” she says, and something in her hazel eyes sparkles as she speaks. “Just this once. You’ve shown yourself to be worthy.”
“I’m flattered,” I say with a little smile. “Lead the way, then.”
I follow her out of the kitchen, through the café, back through the bookshelves, and then through the storage room door where I found her not too long ago. When we step inside, she spreads her arms wide. “This is where I make all my lists. It’s one of my favorite places in the shop. I know you’ve been in here before, obviously, but now you can appreciate it in a different light.”
“Of course,” I say, amused. I glance at the humming lights overhead, the stacks of boxes, the ugly brown carpet. “It’s…lovely.”
She snorts and begins weaving through the boxes. “No, it’s not. But I don’t come here for the beauty.” She inhales deeply. “You smell that?”
I sniff, too. “What—that musty smell?”
She nods. “That’s the scent of books and ideas and paper. Come over here.” She beckons with one hand, and I obey, following her trail.
I watch as she sits down right on the floor, in a little clearing she’s obviously made herself. There’s just enough room for me to squeeze in, so I sit too, crossing my legs and ignoring the warmth of my knee as it overlaps hers. I’m wearing jeans, but she has on denim shorts; her legs are mostly bare, her skin golden from the sun. I notice briefly that she hasn’t shaved them in a couple days; she’s getting stubble, a few light bristles that would probably feel like the skin of a kiwi if I touched it.
Interestingly enough, I really don’t care what her leg hair situation is like. It’s just hair, and they’re just legs. Gorgeous legs, yes, but I’m more interested in the way she smiles when she’s feeling mischievous, the way she chases after what she wants, the way her cheeks turn pink when she’s embarrassed.
“Paper,” she says once I’ve settled, pulling a pad of paper from out of nowhere, “and a writing utensil. Let’s get to work. I need to get my thoughts down on paper,” she says. “I can’t keep everything straight otherwise.”
I nod, forcing myself to pay attention to something other than her legs. “All right. What kind of list are you thinking?”
“We need to write down all the people who seem suspicious and all the people who had grudges against Carmina,” Heidi says. She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Starting with the obvious.”
“Whoever she was blackmailing,” I say with a nod.
“Exactly.” She scribbles that down on the pad of paper. “I’m putting the son too.”
