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“We want to donate to you and your salons too. I hear you have to pay your technicians overtime for the clients from the shelter.”
“Not necessary. All I do is what I can.”
There’s a knock on my door. Amy pokes her head in and mouths, “Someone is here to see you.”
I nod. “I have to go, but I can’t wait to see you and all the ladies tonight.”
We hang up.
I lean back in my chair, my heart ballooning with excitement. The gala doubles as a fundraiser for the women’s shelter and it’s always been my dream to drum up more support.
Although I’ve been doing Nova’s hair for years, she never seemed to like me and I was always wary about bringing up donations, fearing she’d think I was begging for money.
All in good time, Gran likes to say.
And it seems this is the time.
I can already see Clarissa crying with joy when she gets Nova’s call. Even if it’s only Nova and Adam Harrison who donate this time, their connection to the Alistairs, the Hastings, the Stintons, the Mulliezs, and the Sazukis is opening the door to an Atlantis-level treasure trove. So many women can receive help with their support.
My office door opens suddenly.
I feel a cold, icy wind blow in.
“Island Hayes?” The voice is crisp and dry.
I raise my eyes and then gasp and shoot to my feet.
It’s Clay’s mother-in-law.
“Genevieve Vanderweih.” She tips her hand to me like a queen expecting a kiss from her peasant. Or maybe she just wants to show off the ice-cold diamond the size of a Ring Pop on her finger.
“Miss Vanderweih.” I blink in shock. “What are you doing here?”
Her blue eyes slide from the corner of my office—stacked with Regan’s coloring books and toys—to the boxes of hair products and the assortment of knickknacks thrown in like storage.
“I’m here to talk. Obviously.”
My back tightens. “I don’t think you and I have anything to discuss.” Gesturing to the door, I add, “I’m very busy today, so I’m afraid I can’t squeeze you in on such short notice. If you make an appointment, I can check my schedule and—”
“Oh, don’t worry. This won’t take long.” She plunks into the chair in front of my desk. Her lace skirt pools to the ground and she snatches it off the floor as if everything in my office is toxic waste.
I inhale deeply.Island, if you drag her out by her hair, you’re going to jail. And you do not have time to deal with the police and lawyers right now.
Sensing that the fastest way to get her out of my sight is to humor her, I suck in all my objections and plunk into the seat behind my desk.
Fingers interlocking, I smile grimly. “How can I help you, ma’am?”
It burns to call her ‘ma’am’.
Especially knowing the lengths she’d go to take Abe and Regan from Clay.
“Tut, tut.” She wags her pointer back and forth. “You’re asking the wrong question, dear.” The chair creaks as she leans forward. “The real question is how canIhelp you.”
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“Yes, I suppose you’d think that.” Her smile is as fake as my favorite wig. “Island Hayes—a proud independent woman who started out filming makeup tutorials in her grandparents’ tiny bungalow. Now the owner of several salons. The youngest, in fact, to start her own franchise.”
My jaw works. “I’m aware of my history.”