“That’s right, honey,” Rye called. “Let your hair down.”
She planned to do just that and more.
Shaking out her hair felt decadent, and she closed her eyes and leaned back, the wind rushing over her face. As she flew through the air, so high she could have touched the heavens, she kicked her shoes off in another spurt of rebellion.
“Tammy Hollins.
Aren’t those your new shoes?” her sister asked.
She felt the stirrings of a smile as she soared through the air again and then fell back down. The slight drop caused her heart to kick, but not in a bad way. In an exciting way, a forbidden way.
“Yes, they are, Amelia Ann. And, frankly, I don’t care.”
Rye and Tory would be gone for the entire summer. She would be alone with the children, and it was high time she started discovering more of what she enjoyed. Swinging seemed to top the list, but she’d only just gotten started.
“Higher, Rye,” she called out.
“That’s my girl,” Rye shouted and pushed her harder.
Her blond hair rushed around her face, and she decided to lean back even farther and stretch her toes all the way to the stars.
She had never felt more free.
Chapter 5
Tammy had started the day on a high after ordering her new business cards, but a luncheon with the Dare River Ladies Circle had deflated her good mood. Her back was stiff as an ironing board as she walked down the sidewalk through the muggy heat to her BMW. After being asked to show some photos from Rye’s wedding, her new acquaintances talked nonstop about how lovely Tory had looked and how beautiful Tammy’s children were.
All had been perfectly lovely except for one remark that had stood out. And it had been repeated so often Tammy had wanted to dab her napkin in her ice water and place it on the back of her hot neck.
You look
exactly
like your mother.
Being like Mama was the last thing she wanted.
When she reached her car, her perfectly coiffed image was reflected back at her in the storefront windows next to it. The face, hair, and dress all made her Mama’s twin. Her knees buckled. Leaning against the hot car, she welcomed the sensation of the searing metal meeting her chilled skin. Didn’t care if her lilac linen dress was smudged with dirt now.
Her eyes darted to a salon two doors down. She’d heard its name mentioned by some of the ladies at the luncheon as one of the best places in town.
It was past time for a change.
Moving before her courage failed her, she pushed away from the SUV and headed to the apple green door. The door chimed soothingly when she opened it, like raindrops set to an enchanting concerto. The salon had an earthy wood lawn scent, but underneath it, she could smell shampoo and hairspray.
The woman manning the white reception desk greeted her.
She took a deep breath. “I’d like to make an appointment, please.”
“For when?” she asked.
“Today, if possible.”
“You’re in luck. Normally we’re booked up three weeks in advance, but Marie just had a cancellation. Her client’s husband had a heart attack this morning, bless his heart. Can you come back in two hours?”
Tammy wanted to bite her French-manicured fingernails while considering. She knew she’d chicken out if she went home.
“Of course,” she replied with more conviction than she felt.
“Great, we’ll see you then. I don’t know if you’re planning on going home or staying around, but there are some lovely shops in the area.”
“Wonderful.” She watched as someone swept up locks of blond hair, the same shade as her own, on the hardwood floor. Her chest felt like she was in a metal compressor.
She could do this. She
would
do this.
When she walked out, she had to breathe shallowly since she was light-headed. When the feeling finally passed, she looked around. The boutiques were upscale, and she knew Amelia Ann shopped here frequently, particularly at the edgier ones. If her sister hadn’t been at work at the law firm, she would have called her for moral support.
But perhaps it was better that she do this on her own.
Being responsible, she called her babysitter, Alice, to say she would be longer than expected, and entered the first of the stores Amelia Ann had raved about. She wondered if her sister had been using one of Mrs. Augusta’s methods:
Drop hints until people do what’s best for them.
Radical Southern had a lush peach door. The clothes on the mannequins were too colorful for Tammy’s taste, but the fabrics were high quality and tailored. Most had bias-cut necklines as opposed to the conservative ones she wore.
Her sister’s wardrobe now boasted skinny jeans, tights, jeggings, and flowing skirts and dresses that symbolized her newfound freedom. Her work attire was different, of course, but even then her style was more New York chic than Southern debutant.
Tammy didn’t think she could pull off Amelia Ann’s look, but perhaps she could find something that would suit her better than starched linen dresses and conservative ladies’ suits.
By the time Tammy’s hair appointment dawned, she’d done some serious shopping. The women in the boutiques had been helpful, suggesting an array of clothes, as if sensing she was on a buying binge. Rye had given her a credit card months ago, encouraging her to buy anything she wanted, but she’d only used it for the kids and the house up until now, never for herself.
Shopping for herself had never felt so good. Taking the bull by the horns, she walked out with her newest outfit on—white Capri cotton pants and a turquoise cotton top with a bias cut. Her high-heeled gold sandals paired well with it, but she already planned to go shoe shopping to match her new style. It would be something special for Amelia Ann and her to do together. She shoved the bags in the car with a smile and breezed through the door to the salon.
The woman at the reception desk’s brows shot up to her highlighted hairline.
“Someone’s
been busy.”
“It’s time for a change.”
Like summer edging out spring, she was stepping into a new season.
Before she knew it, she was sitting in the hairstylist’s chair with wet hair. Marie ran her hands through Tammy’s long blond locks. “So, what are we going to do today? A trim?”
The woman probably hadn’t known what to make of her French twist. Who wore that style on a daily basis? No one except for her and Mama and Meade’s conservative ladies guild.
“No, I want something different.” Was that desperation lacing her voice? “Something shorter maybe. Oh, I don’t know. What do you recommend?”
Marie’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she studied Tammy. “Shorter would look good with your cheekbones, but are you sure? It would be really different than your current hair style. You won’t be able to put it up.”
She gripped the arms of her chair. Good. Then she couldn’t go back to old habits. “Okay.”
“Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?”
A bubble of laugher squeaked out. A boyfriend? Wasn’t that funny? “No. I just want a new look. Whatever you do, please don’t make it all one length. I’ve had that look for years.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
She wasn’t, and it was hard not to wince when the scissors sheared through the first lock of hair. As it fell to the floor, Tammy felt like Samson undoubtedly had when Delilah began his haircut.
Marie took her time, chattering away about the weather and asking about Tammy’s children after she learned about Rory and Annabelle. After a while, the stylist’s obvious precision calmed her, and she released her death grip on the chair and stopped staring at the wet strands falling to the floor. Marie took her time blowing out her hair, using a large brush to roll the short curls. When the blow dryer stopped, her mama wasn’t looking back at her in the mirror any more.
No, the new Tammy Hollins looked more modern, approachable. Short layers framed her face, softening her enough that she looked vulnerable. Her hands shook as she touched the bangs—something Mama swore only loose, big-haired women wore.
Marie rubbed her tense shoulders. “What do you think? It really changes your look. Honey, I know you’re young, but it’s still taken years off you.”
Tammy touched her bare neck. It
was
different, and Marie was right. She felt years lighter. It would be an adventure, getting to know the new person in the mirror. And it would be another way she could teach her children to never become trapped in an identity that no longer supported them.
“It’s perfect.”
She kept looking at her image in the rear view mirror on the way home. When she pulled into the driveway, she grabbed her bags out of the car. Annabelle and Rory ran out to meet her, all four dogs racing behind them. The kids skidded to a halt while Barbie and Bandit danced around their small legs. Rye’s golden retrievers, Bullet and Banjo, who apparently didn’t see or smell a difference in her, rushed up to nuzzle her waist.
“Mama! You cut your hair.” Annabelle pushed the dogs out of the way and hugged her leg. “It looks
so
pretty. And you have new clothes. I love them!” Even at five, Annabelle had the fashion gene. Perhaps she would take her shoe shopping too.
Rory said nothing. He just stared.
“Don’t you like it, honey?” she asked, feeling her new confidence lean like it might topple if she didn’t shore it up.
“You look so happy, Mama.”
Oh, her little boy. He always saw more than most people did.
“I am. Now who wants to help me carry in my bags? Then I can show y’all what else I bought.”
The sitter’s mouth dropped open when she saw Tammy.
“Were the kids all right?” she asked, putting her purse on the counter. Yeah, she needed a new one of those too. Her current one could have graced Queen Elizabeth’s arm.
“They were little darlings,” Alice said, recovering. “Your hair looks
wonderful
. It reminds me of Charlize Theron.”
Whoa! She reminded Alice of that bombshell? “Why, thank you.”
After paying her and seeing her out, she took Annabelle upstairs to model her new clothes. Her daughter’s delighted laughter made it easy to smile and feel confident in her new look. Rory, who’d declared that he would leave her and Annabelle to do their “girl stuff,” sounding just like Rye, was downstairs watching cartoons.
Once she’d shown her daughter all her new looks, Tammy changed her top to a red one as another declaration to herself. Mama had never let her daughters wear red, thinking it was too bold. Tory wore it all the time, and for her, it was just a color. For Tammy, it was a statement of intent.
Women who opened their own businesses wore red.
Later that evening, she was pushing Annabelle on the tree swing when she saw a familiar form walking around the house toward them. Rye’s goldens shot off to meet him, barking madly.
“It’s Mr. McGuiness, Mama,” Annabelle yelled. “Yeah!”
Was he here to set a time for their consultation about his gardens? Tammy touched her short curls. What would he think about her new look? Would he even say anything? And then she cursed herself as a fool for wondering.
Rory, who had been playing in the tree house Rye and John Parker had built for the kids in the spring, climbed down and met him halfway, his dog Bandit leaping at his side. John Parker stopped to talk to him, ruffling his hair, and crouched down to pet all three dogs. Moments later, Rory ran off toward the house, his canine companions in hot pursuit, and John Parker started walking toward them again.
“Hi, Mr. McGuiness,” Annabelle cried out, kicking her feet to swing higher.
When John Parker reached them, his eyebrow winged up. “Someone got a haircut, I see. It looks good on you.”
Gosh, she wanted to duck her head like a schoolgirl at her first cotillion dance. “Do you really like it?” she asked, giving the swing another push.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You look more beautiful than ever, Tammy, and that’s like saying there’s more water in the oceans today.”
Even though she knew it was her imagination, the ground trembled under her feet. He’d never given her such a personal compliment before, and the husky way he’d said it…
John Parker grabbed her arm suddenly and pulled her out of the way. “Mind the swing. You almost got that pretty head knocked off.”
Gooseflesh raised on her arm at his touch. His big, tanned hand was warm and strong, and she liked the way it felt on her bare skin. She hadn’t been able to forget the way she’d felt dancing in his arms at Rye’s wedding.
Aware. Flushed. Needy.
And afraid.
His thumb stroked her forearm, almost as if he could sense her wicked thoughts. Her eyes darted to his when he continued that slow, tantalizing slide up her arm. The gentle breeze felt good on her now blushing face. In the distance, she heard the dogs bark, but she didn’t move. Didn’t step back. In some remote part of herself, Tammy realized she was feeling desire.
“Mr. McGuiness! Push me, push me!”
Tammy took one last look at those slumberous blue eyes and stepped away.
Rory arrived, breathing hard from running, his red bike helmet in hand. “I’m all set, Mr. McGuiness.”
“I told Rory we could go for a short bike ride before I mow the grass. He’s also hankering to take a ride with me on the mower, but I said that would be up to you.”
He was going to mow the grass? “You don’t have to do that.” Heavens, she could hire someone.
“Rye asked me. We don’t respect a man who doesn’t mow his lawn. It’s a matter of pride. Anyway, I don’t mind—it’s a good opportunity to think, compose songs… And,” he added after a moment’s pause, “there’s nothing more fun than tearing across the land in a riding mower.”
The male mind…this only confirmed how little she understood it. “But none of the men I grew up with ever mowed their lawns.”
“And from what Rye’s told me, those yahoos give us men a bad name.”
Was she really having this conversation? “But you have your own lawn to mow.”
Was this Rye’s way of keeping a man around the house to make sure she and the kids were okay?
Her newfound freedom turned to sawdust in her mouth.
“I want to do this. Besides, I thought it would be fun for the kids. Rye said that he takes turns letting them ride with him. I would be really careful with them, I promise.”