She kind of hoped it was.
* * *
“You’re so much happier here.” Adley said it while meeting Scottie’s eyes in the mirror in front of her chair at Trio, the salon Scottie had recently opened with her good friends and fellow hairstylists, Sebastian and Demi. “It’s so clear in everything, from the way you look cutting my hair to the way you move.”
“Really? I mean, it’s totally true, but I didn’t realize it was obvious.” Scottie had a comb in one hand and her scissors in the other and was trimming away Adley’s split ends.
“Maybe it’s because I know you so well, but…yeah. It’s nice to see.” The place was adorable, much smaller than Scottie’s previous salon where she’d rented a chair from a woman she couldn’t stand, along with about eight other stylists. This salon only had three chairs. The color scheme was black and white with some occasional pops of red or silver. Very sleek and modern, but somehow, it had a warm feeling to it. Modern could be cold, but Trio was inviting. “How’s Marisa? And my favorite little boy, Jaden?”
At the mere mention of her girlfriend and girlfriend’s kid, Scottie’s entire demeanor went all soft and mushy. “They’re great,” she said, her smile wide.
“Oh my God, look at you,” Adley said with a laugh. “You’re all gooey.” Then she pulled the teasing tone away and said softly, “I’m so glad you’re happy, Scoot. You deserve it.”
“Yeah? Well, so do you.” Scottie stopped cutting and met Adley’sgaze in the mirror again, then put her hands on Adley’s shoulders and leaned closer. “You do.”
“I know. One day…”
“Well, it’s probablynotgonna be the chick from the bar who’s literally just passing through town, you know.”
“I know that.”
A squeeze of her shoulders. “Do you?”
Adley snorted a laugh. “Of course. I’m not stupid. This is just some fun. I’m having some fun. That’s all.”
Scottie held her gaze for an uncomfortably long time before giving one nod and going back to Adley’s hair. “Okay. Good. I’m just checking. I know you and I know your heart, and I don’t want you getting hurt by this woman because you have expectations she can’t meet.”
“I know. I’ve got my eyes wide open. This is just a bit of fun, which I also think I deserve. I work hard.”
More nodding. “You do. I know it. I’m just looking out for my favorite best friend.”
“Hey!” came Bash’s voice from his station. “I heard that.”
“Me, too,” called Demi from her station. Both their clients sitting in their chairs laughed.
“Uh-oh,” Adley said, grinning at Scottie. “You’re in trouble now.”
Chapter Five
“Artisan ice cream, huh? That’s not something I expected to find in a city as small as Northwood, New York.” Tilda James gave a little chuckle into the phone, and Sabrina could picture her, short silver hair perfect, tailored business suit, sitting behind her mahogany desk in her large office back in Atlanta.
“It’s a really cute little place,” Sabrina said. She was sitting in her rented house at the small dining room table, paperwork spread out all over it. “I tasted a few flavors. Really good. Lotta depth.”
“Really.” It was a statement, not a question. “Send the flavors to me, and I’ll toss them over to innovations.”
“I also visited a couple other places.” Sabrina wanted to move the subject away from Get the Scoop, though she wasn’t sure why. Something about the place…she just liked it. And most small ice cream businesses didn’t survive the arrival of a Sweet Heaven. Her mother seemed to thrive on that fact, gain energy from it. Sabrina didn’t, and she certainly wouldn’t be sending the flavors to Sweet Heaven headquarters so they could copy them. But she didn’t tell her mother that.
She filled her in on the four other places she’d visited yesterday. Poor Earl’s didn’t stand a chance. She’d known it as soon as she’d seen it. The phone call lasted another fifteen minutes, and then she finally got to hang up. God, talking to her mother could be stressful. You’d think she’d be used to it by now, but the tension hit her shoulders about three minutes in and didn’t leave until well after the call had ended. Always. It had always been like that.
She sat there for a moment, talking herself into relaxing the wayher father had taught her. Then she glanced at her watch. Ten fifteen on a Monday morning. Her father would be doing his rounds at the hospital in the palliative care unit. He’d long since retired from his nursing career, and now he volunteered at various hospitals in Atlanta, talking to terminally ill patients, listening to them, helping them make peace with their mortality. How he did it, she had no idea. He was a special man. She picked up her phone again.
“Well, hello there, Peaches.” The nickname had nothing to do with Atlanta or Georgia at all, as she’d sort of implied to Adley. It was one he’d given her as a baby because she’d had barely any hair for her first year, just some peach fuzz on her head. His voice was warm and soothing, and Sabrina’s shoulders instantly relaxed.
“Hi, Dad. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Nope. Just playing gin with Mr. Caldwell here.” She heard the snap of a playing card.
“Is he kicking your ass?”