She shook off her suspicions. “My folks are in town, but they’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m warming up some vegetable lasagna for supper,” she told him, taking refuge in the kitchen. “Why don’t you stay? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”
“Wish I could, but I have plans.”
If not for Justin and his family, she would have spent countless major holidays alone while her parents were on location. They’d been in Europe when she was attacked, and it had been Justin who’d spent the long hours with her at the hospital and rehab center. She couldn’t help but wonder if he really had plans, or if he’d made up the story to avoid spending time with the couple who, in his words, had been absent every time their only child needed them.
“Then what can I get you to drink while we set up for the haircut?”
He sat down at the counter. “Coffee, if you’ve got it.”
The friends launched into familiar, comfortable conversation that continued even as they moved the dining room table and covered the colorful rug with a white sheet, and while he cut and styled her hair. After he helped her put things back into place, he grabbed her hand.
“Sit down, Sums,” he said, leading her to the living room sofa. “I have something to tell you. Something really important.”
He plopped down beside her, looking more serious than she’d ever seen him look.
“Let me say this before I lose my nerve. Again.”
Again? How long had he been planning this little speech?
“Do you like wearing your hair short?”
“Sure. You do a great job. I don’t even miss the long ‘do’ anymore.”
His expression grew even more serious. “You are the only client I make house calls for. You know that, right?”
Yes, she did. Just like she knew what an inconvenience it was for him to haul scissors and combs, dryer and styling tools from his shop on East Meadow to her place. She’d always done everything possible to show her appreciation, and sent him home with generous tips, his favorite desserts and healthy casseroles that he could freeze then bake when work left him no time to cook.
“I realize it’s a hassle,” she said. “Coming over here every month for nearly two years...if you need to charge more, or change the schedule so that—”
He grabbed her hands. “Summer. Shhh. Please?”
She didn’t like his tone. Didn’t like feeling like a misbehaving child, either. It made her remember what her dad had said during his last visit: “If you keep acting like a helpless child, you can’t complain when people treat you like one.” It hadn’t been easy to hear then, and it wouldn’t be easy, hearing it from her much-trusted friend.
“You know I love you like a sister, right?”
She nodded. “And I feel the same way about you.”
Justin looked sad, and pained, and frustrated all at once. Her heart ached for the friend who’d always been there for her. If she loved him half as much as she claimed to, she’d spare him the ordeal of telling her the house calls had to stop.
She sat up straighter and forced a smile. “You know how much I appreciate all you do for me, right?”
One brow rose high on his forehead. “Uh, yeah...”
“So please don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way.”
Eyes narrowed, he studied her face.
“I’ve let you baby me for far too long. It’s time I stood on my own two feet, inside and outside of this house. So next time I need a trim, I’ll come to your shop, just like any other client.” As he’d done earlier, Summer raised a hand to silence his retort. “I’ve made up my mind, and there isn’t a thing you can do to change it.”
He pulled her into a brotherly hug then held her at arm’s length. “I’m proud of you, Sums. Really proud!”
Summer did her best to match his happy smile...while hoping that someday, she’d share his feelings.
SINCE HER PARENTS’ ARRIVAL, Summer had spent half of her daylight hours picking up things her dad left strewn about, and the other half looking for things her mom had put away. She glanced at the calendar, where her dad had used a fat red marker—it had bled through to the next page—to circle the twenty-first, the date they’d fly to Baltimore then drive to the annual Chesapeake Film Festival in historic Easton, Maryland. Summer loved them like crazy, and because she knew they meant well, she employed an assortment of coping strategies.
When the basket for her dad’s keys, reading glasses and sunglasses, neatly folded handkerchiefs and breath mints overflowed, she added another one. As she rediscovered everyday items hidden by her mom, Summer simply returned them to their proper places. Her best idea yet had been the dartboard on the back of her bedroom door, the one and only room her parents never entered. After printing each irksome peculiarity on Post-it notes, she stuck them to the board. Then, after getting ready for bed each night, Summer would fire a feathered missile at the pastel squares.
Tonight, the dart zeroed in on pancake griddle on top of fridge. Since it had chosen that same note two days earlier, Summer lobbed it again. This time, it landed on wet tea bag in dishwasher, inspiring a burst of quiet laughter.
“Are you okay in there?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Are you sure? I thought I heard thumping, and thought maybe you’d fallen.”
It was all she could do to stifle more giggles. “No, I’m fine. Must have been my dresser drawers. Sorry. I’ll close them more quietly from now on.”
Silence, and then a dubious, “All right, then. Good night, honey.”
“Sweet dreams,” she called back, “and thanks for checking on me.”
“Oh. Speaking of dreams, I met your dreamy friend in town today.”
“Who, Justin?”
“No, of course not. I’ve known Justin for years! It was that nice young man who owns Marshall Law. You know, the self-defense studio that’s right next door to the Cascade Café?”
Summer leaped out of bed and threw open her bedroom door.
“I’ve been saving some citrus-lavender tea,” she said, taking her mother’s hand. Leading her down the hall, she whispered, “Let’s have a cup while you tell me all about it. No sense waking Dad.”
After filling the kettle and turning the burner on high, she sat beside her mom at the bar counter. “Now, then. Start at the beginning,” Summer said, “and don’t leave out a single detail.”
“Well, Dad and I were sitting there at the café, looking at the itinerary for our
