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Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “He hit on you?”
“No, not like that. Anyway, UPS Pete dropped off a package, and said he’d dropped one off to Moose at the library, and Moose said he’d met the older brother, and they were going to take a look at the bathroom Maisie wants fixed up.”
“They were making the rounds.” Elsie kept snipping. “I ran into Kate Burkett this afternoon, and she’d met the younger one. She said he seemed very sweet.”
“Did he hit on her, too?” Sloan wondered.
“She didn’t mention it. And telling your sister she’s beautiful is just stating a fact.”
Drea sipped her wine, fluttered her lashes. “I see where you’re going, Mom. It’s going to work. I’m getting my bag, and Mom’s hair dryer.”
“Bring a mirror!” Sloan called out.
“No! Not until it’s all done.”
“Your hair’s beautiful, Sloan. Every color of blond, right up to a bit of soft doe brown. It’ll be easier for you to take care of short, and when you’re all better, if you want it long, it’ll grow.”
“It looks like I’ve got until next year to look like an idiot anyway.”
“Next year’s only a few weeks away, and I didn’t birth or raise any idiots.”
“You know how impulsive I am, Mom?”
“You mean not at all?”
“Exactly. I think through, calculate, weigh, self-debate pros and cons. But my hair? Whack! I think getting shot’s made me stupid.”
“Stop.”
Elsie said it with enough feeling to lift Sloan’s shoulders into a hunch.
“Getting shot made you feel vulnerable, which you dislike. It made you feel weak, and that you hate. You’re not weak, baby. I’ve watched you deal with what happened, day after day. Get up every morning, face it, and work toward putting it behind you.”
She came around the stool, took Sloan’s face in her hand. “But it’s never going to be behind you. It’s part of you now. You’ll get through it, and you’ll get the life you want back. But it’s always going to be part of you. I’m proud of you.”
“You have to be.”
“No, I don’t. I have to love you, but pride’s a choice.”
She stepped back, picked up her wineglass, sampled. Nodded.
“I see where I’m going, too. I’d actually go shorter.”
“Shorter?” When Sloan lifted a hand toward her hair, Elsie slapped it away.
“No looking, no touching. I would go shorter, but I won’t—no more than necessary. Drea’s right about it lifting your face and the rest.”
“Drea’s always right,” Drea said as she walked in with a brush, comb, hair dryer, and some styling gel. Along with her makeup bag.
“I can’t believe you carry that entire bag of makeup in your purse every day.”
“Be prepared. What if I was somehow trapped in one of the cabins during a blizzard, then was dug out and rescued by Mr. Gorgeous? Wouldn’t I want to look my best? I raided your makeup, and you have this excellent eye shadow palette, so I’m combining yours and mine.”
She began to set out palettes, brushes, tubes, compacts. “This is fun. Oh, I didn’t mention it before, considering, but you really need to invest in a good face serum. I’ll send you a link to what I use. You’re pretty good at this, Mom.”
“I’ve been trimming your dad’s hair for years. Not the same, of course, but I know the method. Did I ever tell you about the first time he asked me to trim his hair?”
“No.” Sloan lifted her wine again for a slow sip.