Come Rain or Shine (12 page)

“These things take time. The silk is a delicate material,” she snapped at Emmie.

“Pish-posh,” Emmie said, pulling a word from Ava’s vocabulary. “What this dress needs is a stitch taken in here or there and a little hemming. I’ll have it done in a day or two. They will take the dress as is. I expect you will not charge them full price either, since you are not completing the dress and you are putting me out to do so.”

“Full price is fine—” Molly started.

Emmie put up her hand. “Well, if you aren’t going to give them a discount, the least you could do is throw in a headpiece. There’s a lovely beaded one over there. You liked that one, right Ava?”

Ava was staring at Emmie like she was looking at a stranger. Her mouth still dangled open in surprise as she nodded. Emmie couldn’t help the smile that escaped her. “She does like it. It is only right that you give that to her.”

The woman stumbled over her words for a moment. “Of course. I suppose you are right. Did the rest of you want to pick out something to wear for the occasion?”

“Yes,” Jemma answered, leaning in and whispering to Emmie, “it was part of the plan. A nice evening gown with the rest of the money.”

Emmie sighed. She really didn’t want to buy anything from this store, but Jemma was already leading her over to the far corner that held a selection of party dresses. “He wants you to have something you can wear tonight that is fancy, and he said if you fought with me about it being impractical to remind you that you could wear it again to Ava’s wedding, when the time comes. That was the plan.”

“Okay, I’ll pick out a dress but let me talk to Ava first,” she said, leaving Jemma to search through the sea of dresses.

Emmie reached a hand out and rested it on Ava’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Her friend gave her a somber smile. “I don’t care what that woman thinks.”

They both knew she was lying but Emmie let it go. “Do you need me to help you get out of that dress? It really does have a lot of pins.”

“I’ll help her,” Molly said, walking up to them. “You go enjoy yourself.”

“You don’t have to alter the dress. That’s not why we brought you here. I just wanted you with me when I picked it out,” Ava said with a sad smile.

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t let anyone else finish it up for you. I want to do it. Think of it as one small part of your wedding gift from me.”

“Thanks Emmie, you’re better than a sister. You are always here for me.” Ava took a breath and looked up at the ceiling before she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “Come rain or shine, I always know you will be here for me. I can’t ever thank you enough.” Her eyes were glazed over as she looked back at her friend.

“Always. That’s what it means to be a family.” Emmie’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She could never stand to see anyone cry.

Ava started to turn away from her. “And that little show you put on just then for the shop owner . . . all bossy: you will do this, you will do that . . . that was amazing. You looked like a McDowell out there if I’ve ever seen one. Silas is rubbing off on you in a good way. My dear sweet friend just stood up to an overbearing shop owner. You did the right thing.”

Emmie watched her friend’s eyes as she spoke. There was a grave seriousness to her expression. Emmie sucked in a breath as she realized Ava was talking about more than just this dress shopkeeper. She was talking about a different shop owner. She was talking about Mr. Thomas. Someone had filled her in on the details. Emmie’s heart pounded out of rhythm as she went back to that cabin in her mind’s eye. She saw Mr. Thomas lying on the floor. The frying pan. The gunshots.

Ava’s touch brought her back into focus. She wrapped her friend in a hug and whispered quietly, “You must know, come rain or shine, I’m always here for you too.”

Emmie could only nod as tears spilled over her cheeks.

Chapter Eighteen

B
y the time they left the fancy dress shop, everyone was composed. Whether it was real or not, Ava was smiling. Jemma and Emmie carried large red boxes tied with thick white ribbon holding their new dresses. The driver that had carted Jemma and Emmie around for the day met them at the door of the dress shop, took their goods, and loaded them in the car. Molly took the front seat and the three girls slipped into the back. Emmie was surprised when the car only drove two blocks before pulling to a stop near a curb. She looked out the window to find they had stopped in front of a beauty salon.

She turned to Ava. “We made that man drive us and we were only going two blocks?”

Ava laughed and pulled her friend out of the car. “We had boxes.”

She looked at Jemma and teased, “Honestly, I could have thrown my box and hit this building. That is ridiculous.”

Jemma laughed.

The salon was larger than Emmie thought it would have been. It was luxurious. The walls were painted a deep purple and the beautiful tin ceiling was at least twenty feet tall. Elaborate white painted wooden vanities sat along the walls with tall gold mirrors. On the vanities sat every type of beauty tool you could imagine: brushes, combs, and shiny silver things that looked straight out of a medieval torture chamber.

“We’ll have the full treatment for my three girls: makeup, hair, nails. They deserve a little pampering,” Molly said to the lady with a perfectly painted face and the highest arched eyebrows Emmie had ever seen. Then the older woman turned to the girls, “The driver is taking me to check on my uncle. He is likely in need of some groceries and a good meal.”

Emmie took a quick scan of the room. She’d never been to a beauty salon and didn’t really want to start today. “Let me go with you. I’ll be happy to cook something for your uncle.”

Molly laughed and shook her head. “Go sit down and enjoy it.” She leaned in and whispered, “Surely a girl as brave as you have been lately isn’t afraid of scissors and a brush.”

Emmie looked at Molly’s face. While she was teasing, she was also serious. Great, it wasn’t only Ava that knew about what she had been up to; Molly knew too. Emmie only nodded, unsure how to reply. She wondered how much of the truth they knew about her past. She didn’t have too much time to think that one over. The girls were quickly ushered to tall chairs and began to be plucked, powdered, and painted. The best part of the treatment was the tray of cheeses, crackers, and cookies the girls nibbled from while they waited to be passed from one person to the next. Silas had sent a message to the salon saying he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner and that they should eat without him. Emmie assumed this was counting as dinner.

A woman moved Emmie to a tall chair, unpinned her hair and mumbled in a snarky tone, “Look at all of this hair. What are you, a schoolmarm?”

Emmie jutted out her chin and said, “I hope to be.”

“Clearly. You’ve already got the perfect hair. With your youth, bone structure, and wide eyes you could be a great beauty, if you got rid of this wild mane. Even these waves could work to your advantage.” The lady’s Chicago accent was thick and she spoke so quickly it was difficult for Emmie to understand her.

She looked over at Ava for help but her friend was relaxing in a chair with warm towels covering her face. She was completely oblivious to the entire conversation. Emmie opened her mouth to tell the woman that she liked her long, wild mane but never got the chance. As she began to speak she noticed the woman already had a long pair of scissors in her hair.

“
No
,” Emmie screamed, but it was far too late. Ten inches of her ebony strands were on the floor.

Ava sat up and threw the towel off her face. Jemma stood from her chair where her nails were being filed. Both girls watched in horror as Emmie sat there with her hands over her mouth.

Her hair. Her hair was gone. Half of it now rested above her shoulders. It wasn’t much longer than Silas’s. She looked like a boy. Or half of her did anyway. The other half of her hair was still attached to her head as it should be. Emmie threw herself down from the chair, stumbling as she did so.

“What were you thinking? You don’t just cut somebody’s hair without asking,” she shouted. “Give. Me. The. Scissors.”

Everyone in the shop was watching as Emmie lost it. Her eyes welled up with tears. Ava was at her side. Emmie stared at her reflection, turning from one profile view to the other. Old Emmie, New Emmie. Old Emmie, New Emmie. She didn’t ask for this.

Ava touched her friend’s arm and then ran her hand down the side of her hair with the shorter locks.

“She just cut my hair off without asking me,” Emmie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And she shouldn’t have done that. But the truth is, honey, you look beautiful.” Ava smiled and nodded to the mirror.

“I’ve not had more than a trim since Mama died. I always do it myself since she’s been gone.” Emmie realized she looked like a mad woman. Who cries over a haircut?

“I know. But look at this.” Ava reached down to a nearby table and pulled up a magazine. “See, you look just like that model. You are beautiful with short hair.”

Emmie turned again so she could only see the short side. It was okay she supposed. Change was okay. She looked at Ava’s hair. Then she turned to look at Jemma’s who had now walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Silas loved my long hair. He’s going to hate it,” she mumbled.

“No. It’s you he carries the torch for . . . not your hair,” Jemma said quietly.

Emmie nodded. She looked at the mirror straight on and nodded again in silent resolve. Regardless of what she had wanted, it was done. With shaking hands she grabbed a fist full of hair and cut the other half off. When the last ten inches fell to the ground she laid the scissors on the vanity and shook out her shorter locks. After a deep breath she realized how light it felt with the hair gone. Maybe change was good.

She looked at the hairdresser. “I’m sorry for yelling, but please don’t go any shorter. You can finish now.”

The lady approached her like one might approach a brown bear in the mountains. Quiet, scared, and with full respect.

Chapter Nineteen

H
e’s going to hate it. He’s going to hate it. He’s going to hate it.
Emmie thought to herself as she sat in the back of the car on the way back to meet Silas. Sure, Jemma had told her he wouldn’t mind the new hairstyle, but she couldn’t let it go. Why did she care so much about what he thought? It was her hair, for goodness sake.

She looked at the buildings in an attempt to recognize where she was but gave up. Emmie wasn’t sure if they were going to meet Silas at his apartment or the office. Molly had gotten hung up with her uncle and had sent a message with their driver that she would meet them later that evening. Emmie had half wondered if that was the truth. Part of her thought Molly may have been letting Ava enjoy a day with friends. She knew a part of her must have hated the way they’d kept Ava quarantined from the public for the past month. She had a feeling Ava was getting a reward for good behavior while Al was away.

Emmie looked at the two girls. Jemma and Ava looked lovely. Their lips were perfectly painted, their eyebrows were perfectly shaped. They really did look like the flapper models from the magazines in the salon. Emmie felt like she was stuck in someone else’s skin. She kept trying to push her hair behind her ears but it was frozen in place. Rows of perfectly placed waves cascaded down from her crown. Now that it was styled, it hung just above her shoulders. Not since she was a baby had she had hair this short.

“Wipe that frown off your face, missy,” Ava said to her with a smile.

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

“Pish-posh.” Ava waved her hand to dismiss the idea.

“He always says he likes my hair wild and everywhere. When he kisses me he likes to brush it back from my face. It’s always been such a sweet thing and now he can’t do that.”

Ava’s face split into what may have been her most honest smile that day. A throaty laugh escaped her as she tried to speak. “Tell me more.”

“No, please stop right there.” Jemma gave a dramatic frown and put her hand up to stop her from speaking. “I don’t want to hear that conversation go any further.”