Page 56 of Merging Wright

Entering Trixie’s Trims is like stepping back in time. Not much has changed in the old beauty parlor. The swivel chairs are still a dated mauve color, while the wallpaper is paintbrush streaks of mint green, turquoise, and more mauve.

Hello, the 80s called.

When I found out who my father was, my intention was to force him to pay Ma every dime of back child support even if Myles and I were no longer children. However, Ma didn’t want me to seek out dear old dad. Her wish was granted as he’d died before I could confront him.

Ma refused to take money from me over the years, although I had plenty, and wanted to share some with her.

“I don’t need this place fixed up. Save the money for another project,” Ma argues as I take a seat in the chair beside her current client. Sitting here reminds me of being a teen and visiting Ma after school or before a job.

“Camilla, the project includes renovating all Bridge Alley spaces,” Jane explains. “Plus, we’re doing The Barber Shop next door.”

This argument does not convince Ma as she stands over the head of someone, working at teasing her hair for volume. “Everyone knows this place is up for sale.”

“Apparently, not everyone.” I stare at Ma with her new-to-me information. “Since when?”

“Since Da passed.”

Ma is a piece of work, putting her business on the market almost as fast as her dad died. My head tilts. She’s been dropping hints about the big house. What is she thinking? She can’t sell the place. The land is entailed to her, as the will explained in greater detail. If no family was alive to claim the property, it would revert to the state, like Fischer mentioned.

Surprisingly, Uncle Frank has been quiet about his meager inheritance. If he crashed that MG again to say screw it to his old man no one would be shocked. Then again, the car is worth a pretty penny.

“What are your plans for the big house?” I ask as Ma swivels her customer in order to continue working on her hair.

Jane stands near the front counter, only a few feet behind Ma.

My mother’s eyes sparkle as she glances at me. “We’ll talk later.” When I was a child, this was her way of schooling me in front of others without scolding me. Later was never good.

Next on our list of business visits is The Barber Shop, which is nearly as dated as Ma’s place. Upon opening the front door, a wall separates an old office from two barber chairs off to the left. Landon stands inside his shop area, glancing around at his collection of scissors, trimmers, and combs.

“My father loved this place,” Landon says after we greet him. “He would have been excited to see the town revived.” As the late mayor, Landon’s father might have been in constant conflict with Fischer. Politics and business make strange bedfellows, and I didn’t want to ever be in a position where the two had an affair.

History lives in this barber shop. This location is the center of town, not to mention a mecca for the men who live and work here. Landon needs his place updated with a nod to what has stood the test of time in this community. Not to mention, the place could use some man-upping. It isn’t masculine in here.

“Myles has already been in here to discuss demolition. He can’t get a crew in here until next week,” Landon informs us.

“Then Mach and I will start.”

Jane volunteering us has me staring back at her. She hasn’t mentioned our kiss this morning other than to tease me about pissing around her. If that’s what it takes to mark her as mine and make a statement to those schmucks drooling over my wife when they should have been working, that’s what I’ll do. Jane belongs to me. And I’m not certain she understands how attractive she is. Her damn smile nearly brought me to my knees the other day.

“We need to clear this place out. Do you have somewhere to store your collection?” Jane speaks as she examines yellowed articles framed on the wall and the once-silver pieces in a display case. “Mach and I can demo.”

She peeks around the wall separating the barber area from the old office. “I’m assuming this wall goes.” Jane pats the plaster like she’s a master carpenter. She has a radiance about her today. Not only is she taking charge as I’ve witnessed her do with clients, but she’s vested in this project. And she looks a little too excited to demo this place.

“Can’t wait to get a jackhammer in your hand?” I tease. Would she like a tool that vibrates?

“No one mentioned a jackhammer. But a hammer and a crowbar could work wonders.” Jane smiles, looking directly at me, and I lose my train of thought.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, Landon,” she says to him.

Like a dutiful husband, I merely nod at Landon and follow my wife. I swear I hear him chuckling at me as we leave.

+ + +

Jane and I agreed that Impact and our accounts with the firm cannot be jeopardized, so while Tucker is taking the lead and Amelia is pulling extra weight, Jane and I still spend our mornings working for Impact. Afternoons are for Wrightwood. Today was reversed, and I have a conference call this afternoon, so Jane and I part ways.

She has a meeting with the owner of Bliss and then plans to head to the park area to help where she can.

Later, she goes out to dinner with a group of volunteers. People are slowly coming onboard to help revive the town. I don’t want to be a miser about Jane’s time, but she and I really need to talk. Our kiss this morning was only the beginning. I have things to tell her, and then I want to propose something for us.