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“And that hurt.” Elsie pulled out a stool so she could walk around it, eased Sloan down. “I’m sure he thought he was doing the right thing for you, but it hurt.”
She went for tissues, handed them over, then filled a spray bottle with water.
“He said I was valued, and all that. But it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been away for weeks now, and everything’s just fine without me.”
“Did you want your department to fall apart?”
“No.” She blew her nose, sighed. “Maybe a little.”
After a one-armed hug, Elsie kissed Sloan’s cheek. “I don’t blame you a bit.”
“You don’t?”
“Who doesn’t want to feel like they’re needed, even essential? And you are, baby, but why would you feel that way right now?”
“I feel useless, Mom. So what do I do? I screw up my hair. That’ll teach them.”
“You changed your hair.” After prying away the tail of hair Sloan gripped like a lifeline, Elsie set it on the counter. “And why not? I’m going to ask Aileen about donating it. It’s thick, healthy. There areplaces you can donate it to, and they make wigs for cancer patients. So a good cause.”
Sloan sighed again. “Too soon.”
Elsie just patted her shoulder as Drea came in.
If part of her hit terrified at tackling the uneven chop of a mess, Elsie didn’t show it. After draping the towel over Sloan’s shoulders, she sprayed the hair with water.
“Drea, why don’t you get us all a glass of wine.”
“I can get behind that. More a box than a bowl,” she added.
“Drea.” Elsie’s single word issued a warning.
“No, let me finish. Now that I see it, I really think short hair’s the way to go. You’ve lost weight, Sloan.”
As she spoke, she got out a bottle, glasses.
“Until you gain it back, the long hair sort of drew your face down, accentuated that weight loss. The shorter hair, and it’s a crap cut, but even with the crap cut, it’s lifting your face up. It’s bringing out your cheekbones, and adding to those weirdly wonderful eyes. Plus, pulling those bangs from the crown? I’m calling that accidental genius.”
“I didn’t want to see it every time I looked in the mirror.” Sloan lifted a hand under the bangs, rubbed at the wound.
“Now you don’t,” Drea said easily, and drew the cork. She studied Sloan as she poured. “I’m doing your makeup.”
“No.”
“Shut up. I’m getting my bag and doing your makeup.”
She handed Sloan a glass as Elsie ran her fingers through Sloan’s damp hair.
“Dad’s probably another hour, right? He and Jonah went by to see the Littlefields, talk to them about taking on some general maintenance.
“I met one of them today.” Drea sipped her wine as Elsie took out her haircutting scissors. “The younger one, Theo. He came into the offices with flyers. Cute, seriously cute. A little strange.”
“What kind of strange? Like serial killer strange?”
Smiling at Sloan, Drea leaned against the counter. “You would go there. No, not at all. He just seemed flustered. The flyers were well done, and the business cards.”
“Flustered’s normal enough,” Elsie put in as she worked. “In a new place, starting a new business, needing to connect with strangers.”
“He did, on the way out, tell me I was beautiful.”