She seemed exhausted all the time, though she insisted her
spirits were good. Sonnet recognized the anxiety and discomfort in the twingey
expression on her face, and her slow movements. “They say my hair’s going to
start falling out in a week or two,” Nina said.
Sonnet still cringed when she thought of what she’d blurted on
set about being fearful about her mother losing her hair. It seemed so petty to
worry about her mom’s hair in the face of everything else. But she knew why she
was afraid. A bald woman might as well walk around with a sandwich board on her
chest, announcing, “Cancer Patient.” She knew her mom would hate that. Worst of
all, she might be one of the unlucky ones, the ones who lost the battle.
She tried to shrug off a sick fear. “Nonna brought over your
favorite,” she said, setting a platter on the table with a flourish. “Caprese
salad and pasta with butter tomato sauce. With salted rosemary focaccia
bread.”
With an expression of sheer determination, Nina took a seat.
“That’s pretty much everyone’s favorite. I’m getting extremely spoiled. The
whole town is spoiling me.”
“Same as you would do for anyone else,” Sonnet pointed out.
“She did the same thing for my uncle,” Greg reminded her,
offering a tender smile. His most adventurous relative, the elderly George
Bellamy, had returned to Willow Lake, gravely ill, for his final adventure—to
make amends for the past and to be with his family one last time. “She made him
her mind-blowing lasagna once a week for a whole summer.”
“The kind with the bechamel sauce?” asked Sonnet. “We should
make some, Mom. If that doesn’t give you a craving, I don’t know what will.”
Nina picked at her salad. Sonnet could tell she was trying not
to worry her and Greg, which only worried her more.
“Lasagna sounds good. Oh, and I made
you
something.” She handed Sonnet a gift bag.
“What’s this? Besides a way to avoid the topic of eating.”
“Just a little something, Miss Smarty-Pants. I took up
embroidery to give my hands something to do during chemo.”
Sonnet reached into the bag and pulled out a decorative pillow.
The face of it was embroidered in fancy lettering. “‘Don’t get so busy you
forget to fall in love,’” she read aloud. “I can’t believe you remembered saying
that to me right before Daisy’s wedding.”
“I don’t say profound things very often,” Nina admitted. “This
one stuck with me. Seemed like a good reminder for anyone.”
“But especially me,” Sonnet said, slowly putting the pillow
back in the bag. “I’ll keep it in mind, Mom.”
“Tell me about your week. I feel as if I’ve been to another
planet and back. What did you do on the show?”
“We faced our fears,” said Sonnet. “Film at eleven.”
“Really? How’d that go?” Nina asked.
“All right, I assume. It’s all in the editing. We’ve got
footage of kids going off the high dive, doing the zip line, eating mushrooms,
talking in front of an audience, you name it. It’s still hard to imagine what
the finished show will be like, but sometimes I think I can see it taking
shape.”
“What fear do you have to face?” Nina asked, looking at
Greg.
“Having Max quit school and move back home,” he said
instantly.
He spoke so quickly, Sonnet knew he must have been thinking
about Max before he spoke. Daisy’s younger brother was a rogue of the charming
variety, taking his time getting through college as he focused on girls and
fun.
“What about you?” Greg asked Sonnet. “Your turn.”
“Oh, I have a list,” Sonnet said, wishing she could forget what
she’d blurted out at the zip line. “Last time I found myself paralyzed with
fear, it was over hemming a good pair of jeans.”
“I hear you,” Nina said. “It’s a dilemma, figuring out what
heel height to match.”
“Heel height.” Greg shook his head sadly.
“I’m scared of parallel parking,” Nina continued. “Especially
having to do it with someone watching. And it’s so silly, isn’t it? People don’t
judge you for your parking ability.”
Sonnet felt a surge of love and admiration for her mom.
Pregnant and dealing with cancer, she had any number of fears to choose
from.
“I’m afraid of yoga,” Greg said. “Especially the kind where
they play gong music.”
Sonnet laughed. “Good one. And how about black-diamond ski
runs?” She shuddered. “They always look like they could be the death of me. Plus
I’m scared of wine lists. No matter how hard I try, I can’t pretend to know what
I’m doing, and I always end up picking the Malbec.”
“Playing Scrabble with my daughter,” Nina said. “Now, that’s
scary.”
“You’re not scared of Scrabble with me.” Sonnet hesitated. “Are
you?”
“You didn’t say it has to make sense. And yes, if you must
know, you are a horror on the Scrabble board. You out-strategize me every
time.”
“Electrical wires,” Greg added. “Hole number four at Avalon
Meadows Golf Course. Small dogs.”
“I never knew you were scared of small dogs,” Nina said.
“I’m not. I just threw that in to make sure you’re
listening.”
“I always listen to you, even when you aren’t making sense,”
she said. “Why don’t we have a dog, anyway? I love dogs.”
“Let’s focus on having a baby, for the time being,” he
said.
“I’m scared of my wicked stepfather,” Sonnet said.
He lifted his water goblet and they clinked glasses. Nina
cupped her chin in the palm of her hand and poked at her salad.
Sonnet couldn’t help but notice that Nina had barely touched
her dinner. “Mom—”
“I know. I’ll eat. I’m just… Okay, here’s something I’m afraid
of. I’m afraid there were too many days I coasted through on autopilot. I’m
afraid I didn’t cherish them enough, but only let them slip by.” She shivered a
little. “That’s more of a regret than a fear, I suppose. We can’t do anything
about regrets, can we? Fears are more manageable.”
Her mother was rambling. Chemo brain, she sometimes called it,
a mental fuzziness caused by her meds.
“Mom, please eat.” It was all Sonnet could say. She didn’t
trust herself to go on, and that ticked her off. She wanted to be strong for her
mother. She wanted to have all the answers, but she simply didn’t.
“Yeah, don’t let this amazing meal slip by,” Greg said.
“Very funny.” Nina took a bite of pasta. An extremely small
bite, after which she set down her fork. “It’s delicious. I need to remember to
send a thank-you note. But lately, I can’t even remember my own name, so I’ll
probably forget to do it. I already feel guilty.”
The doorbell rang, and Greg pushed back from the table. “Let’s
hope that’s not a cranky guest. I’m scared of cranky guests.”
A few minutes later, Zach and Jezebel appeared. Sonnet felt an
unbidden and undeniably pleasant surge at the sight of Zach. Because they were
becoming friends again, she told herself. They also had a young woman in tow.
She wore a gauzy black sundress and gold gladiator sandals, which could have
looked ridiculous, but instead, made her seem cutting-edge stylish.
“Sorry, we’re interrupting your dinner,” Zach said. He had one
of his bigger camera bags with him. Lately, they were practically
appendages.
“Not at all,” Nina assured them. “We were just finishing.”
It didn’t take long to finish three bites of food, Sonnet
thought.
“Let’s go into the living room,” Nina suggested. “I’ve been
wanting to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Jezebel said. “You got a super nice daughter. I
guess you know that.”
Greg stayed behind to clear the table.
“We were just hearing about how the day went,” Nina said. “I
have to say, this show is definitely one of the most interesting things to
happen in Avalon.”
“Come by when we’re shooting,” Zach said. “Sonnet can let you
know a good day for that. Tonight, Jezebel wanted to introduce you to
Paige.”
Sonnet regarded him with silent suspicion. What were they up
to?
“Paige was my stylist in New York up until a couple years ago,”
Jezebel said. “She used to give me the most wicked weaves. My hair was totally
fly when she was doing it.”
“I got out of the business in order to pursue something else,”
Paige explained. “My grandmother got sick and I found a new passion—I became a
wig maker.”
“Whoa,” said Nina, pulling back. “I think I can guess where
this is going.”
Sonnet felt queasy. Like an idiot, she’d blurted out her fear
of Nina losing her hair, thus putting a crazy idea into someone’s head—Zach or
Jezebel; she couldn’t be sure. She turned to glare at Zach. He stared back,
unapologetic.
“Is this some kind of hair intervention?” Nina asked. “Because
if it is—”
“I wanted you to meet Paige, see what she can do for you,”
Jezebel said.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is… It’s
difficult for me.”
“It’s hard for every cancer patient,” Paige said. “Believe me,
you are not alone.”
“You’re very kind to stop by,” Nina said. “Something I’ve found
since getting sick is that I have a lot of angels in my life. A lot more than I
ever knew.” She offered a smile that was soft with relief. “Thank you for
showing up out of the blue like this.”
Sonnet let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
Despite the illness, her mom was still her mom, gracious and open-minded. “Did
you drive all the way up from the city?” she asked.
Paige nodded. “Jezebel’s been wanting me to see this place.
It’s beautiful here. And the inn is incredible. They gave me a room with a
balcony.” She turned to Nina. “I’m here to help, or just to pay a visit. Up to
you.”
Nina put a hand up to her head. Her arm looked thin—not
slender, but genuinely thin. “I brought a wig catalog home from the clinic but
I’m not quite ready to look at it. Supposedly I get to keep my hair for a few
more weeks. And then…I guess I’d better have a plan B.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’m your plan B,” said Paige.
“Honey, you want to see this,” Jezebel said, motioning Paige
over to Nina’s side. “Take a look at her pictures.”
“Here’s my grandmother before she lost her hair,” Paige said,
offering a photo of a middle-aged woman with a nice head of nut-brown hair. “And
here she is with her wig.”
Nina frowned and motioned Sonnet closer. “She looks virtually
the same, just shorter. You do beautiful work.”
“Thanks. Gran was my first client.” She showed them a few more
pictures of women and men. “You can see I got even better with practice.”
“Check this one out.” Jezebel handed over another
before-and-after shot of herself.
Sonnet frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m a cancer survivor, Creampuff,” said Jezebel. “Couple of
years ago.”
“Jezebel, really? I had no idea.”
“I kept it quiet. The tabloids put it out that I was in rehab
or some nonsense like that.”
Sonnet readjusted her thinking. Jezebel…a cancer survivor. It
explained so much—Jezebel’s knowledge and compassion, her interest in Nina.
“Thanks for sharing that,” Nina said. “You’re very
inspirational. And the wig looks incredible. When the time comes—”
“That’s why we’re here tonight,” Jezebel said. “It’s time now.
See, the reason Paige’s clients look so good is that she makes the wigs out of
the patient’s own hair. That’s the good news. The bad news is—”
“You need the hair now,” Nina said, comprehension etched
starkly on her face.
Sonnet gaped, looking from Zach to Jezebel to Paige.
“Seriously?”
Paige explained the process. They’d take Nina’s hair tonight,
leaving only enough to cover her scalp—the k.d. lang look, Jezebel explained.
Paige would weave the hair, strand by strand, into a wig modeled after Nina’s
natural look. Sonnet nearly forgot to breathe, listening to Paige, whose eyes
lit as she talked about her work.
“Anyway,” she concluded, “it’s an option. Would you like some
time to think about it? There’s a gel on the market now that sometimes prevents
hair loss. Maybe your doctor told you about it?”
“Yes, but it hasn’t been approved for use in pregnant women,
and it’s not always effective.” Nina pressed her hands to her face. Sonnet
rushed over to the sofa and put her arms around her. Since she’d been back, she
hadn’t seen her mother shrink with terror, not even before the surgery. It felt
as though someone had snatched a rug out from under her, and she was unsteady,
disoriented. Yet at the same time, it felt right to put her arms around her
mother and simply hold her close. “Mom, you don’t have to do this at all—”
“I know.” Nina brushed her sleeve across her face. “I could
always just let my hair fall out in tufts and throw it away, right?” She smiled
through her tears. “But what good would that do? I say we get started, if that’s
okay.”
“It’s great,” Jezebel said.
“On one condition. I want Zach to film the proceedings.”
“Really, Mom?” Sonnet squeezed her hand.
“Someday I’m going to look back and say, ‘I can’t believe I did
that.’ Zach?”
“Sure, no problem. I had a feeling you’d want to.”
It seemed so natural for Zach to be present for this very
personal matter. He was far more than a friend, Sonnet reflected. He was
family.
“I brought all my gear with me. Maybe on the back porch?” Paige
suggested. “It’s a nice night, and being outside makes cleanup easy.”
Nina nodded in agreement. “Let’s do this thing.” Despite the
brave words, her voice wavered.
Now it was Sonnet’s turn to tear up. She caught Jezebel’s eye.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Greg was tidying up the kitchen when they all trooped through
en route to the back porch.
“Brace yourself,” Nina said, a glow of excitement in her eyes.
“I’m about to get all my hair cut off.”
“Um, okay. Mind if I watch?”
“Of course not.”
“Mind if I drink while I watch?”
“That’s fine,” Nina said. “By now, I’m used to you drinking
without me.”