Page 10 of Beck & Coll

I didn’t hold back at breakfast—not on food…

or drinks. After ordering a meal that consisted of salmon croquettes and home fries, I followed that up with a short stack of pancakes on the side.

My drink of choice was a bellini flight, featuring four of the flavored cocktails.

There was, of course, the standard peach bellini, there was the Rossini made with prosecco and strawberry puree, there was the Puccini, a combination of prosecco and mandarin orange puree, and the Tintoretto, which paired prosecco with pomegranate puree.

The conversation was lively, and the food was delicious. I was thankful to Beckham for suggesting the restaurant. After we ate, he signed for the check and walked me through the entrance of the restaurant back into the lodge’s lobby.

I turned to him. “Thanks, Beckham. The food was delicious.”

I found the room spinning just a tad. I knew it was from the drinks, but I knew that the feeling would pass quickly.

He eyed me suspiciously. “You okay?”

“It’s the liquor.”

“Yeah.” His head nodded in agreement. “For someone who claims to be in a beef with fish, you were definitely drinking like one.”

That made me bend over while roaring with laughter. “Shut up,” I told him. “I was traumatized. I needed something to take the edge off.”

“Seems like you needed four somethings to take the edge off.”

I waved him off with a toss of my right hand. “Whatever. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Aren’t there some clients that want you to take them up a mountain or something?”

“There are. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I have a light buzz. That’s all.”

“What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

“I really want to go into town and see what Jackson Falls has to offer. Is there a company that offers tours?”

“There is. Stop over at the concierge desk, and Malena can set you up with something.” He checked his watch, then glanced down at me. “Be careful, Collins. Stay on your feet.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully. “I will.”

“I’m serious. Stay focused.”

I nodded before repeating, “I will.”

He pulled me into a hug before I could react. I returned the gesture and couldn’t help noticing how good he smelled and how muscular his body was underneath the athletic gear he wore.

Malena, the concierge, was a twenty-something, multi-racial young lady with a big smile and a sweet personality. She also possessed a wealth of knowledge about not only the lodge but also Jackson Falls in general.

“I grew up here,” she shared conspiratorially when I commented on her prowess.

“It seems like a very idyllic place to grow up.”

“For the most part it was. When I graduated from high school, I couldn’t wait to shed my small-town experience for one in the big city. I got my bachelor’s from Hughes-Hurston University in D.C. Thought I would make a life there?—”

“Just like Beckham Strong, huh?”

She blushed. “Yeah. Beckham’s my cousin.”

That little piece of information caught me off guard. “You don’t say?”

“Yeah. His mom is my aunt. Since our family is from D.C., I thought it would be a good fit… and it was,” she added quickly. “I liked it—loved some parts of it, but I missed the Pacific Northwest.”

“Just like Beckham.”

“I guess it’s just in our blood.”

“I guess so.”

“Anyway, there are several tours of Jackson Falls. How did you want to see it? There’s a tour bus, a helicopter tour that flies over the various mountain ranges, there’s a horse and carriage tour, there’s a train tour, there are river tours, and there’s even an ATV tour.”

The four bellinis had my mind muddled because I felt overwhelmed by all of the options.

Malena must have sensed my distress. “You don’t have to make a decision right now, Ms. Kingsley. You can take these brochures with you and read over them. When you’re ready to book, just come see me.”

“Okay,” I agreed thankfully.

“If you want to do something right here at the lodge, Mrs. Strong herself will be leading a tour of the property in about fifteen minutes. It’s free to guests and takes you all over the property on a small open-air trolley.

There are only two seats left on that tour.

Would you like me to secure one of them for you? ”

“Yes. I would love to take a tour of the resort.”

The property at Manor at Sienna Sunset Resort was gorgeous.

The 386 acres were covered with every variation of the very best that nature had to offer.

There was lush vegetation, flower gardens, ponds, streams, a river, and the property had the nerve to back up to a mountain range.

There were trails, a working horse ranch, and a discreet area featuring tee-pee style tents that housed the outdoor spa treatment rooms. Not to mention the twelve distinctive glamping cottages that were scattered around the development.

The lodge itself offered fifty-five well-appointed guest rooms, ten high-end suites, four upscale restaurants, an intimate auditorium where they hosted live entertainment, an indoor spa, a small conference center where guests could complete “wilderness workshops,” and a currently defunct but once state-of-the-art hair salon.

Mrs. Strong was funny, informative, engaging, witty, and personable during the tour. She fielded questions from all of the tour participants during and well after the tour had ended. When the last of the tour group attendees finally drifted away, I moved over to her.

“Collins Kingsley.” She offered me the brightest of smiles. “Did you enjoy the tour?”

“I definitely enjoyed it. The property is more beautiful in person than it was on the internet.” I took a deep swallow. “One of the things that intrigued me the most was the hair salon. What happened to it? You host weddings here. It seems like a hair salon would be a moneymaker.”

“Oh, it was.” She assured me with a glint in her eyes.

“When Brad and I got this place to not only turn a profit but become lucrative, every member of both of our immediate families wanted to pursue a new life in the Pacific Northwest. Because my family is in the haircare business, most of my people, the women in my family, were naturals at hair styling. The salon opened, and we were off and running.”

She sighed, before continuing. “The problem came when those nieces and baby cousins of mine wanted to settle down and start families. Jackson Falls is a lot of things but diverse? At that time, it was not. It was very rural, and the only Blacks here were either Sumners or Strongs. Nobody, male or female, could find a love interest that was the right shade of brown that they weren’t related to.

The white men and women were interested, but it was more of a fetish thing.

Some went ahead and took up with the white suitors, and to a lesser extent, the Native or Hispanic ones.

Most of the women from our families ended up heading right back to D.C.

and Massachusetts with promises of returning once they married. It didn’t happen.

“I had to hire replacement stylists. It was so difficult keeping the salon staffed… not in general but with enough stylists that were proficient in doing Black hair. They say that white stylists can do Black hair nowadays. Not the ones coming out of the local beauty schools. Enough Black brides and lodge guests were displeased that I couldn’t justify keeping it open. I closed it about seven years ago.”

“Does the population still lack diversity now?” I probed. I hadn’t made it into town yet. I had no idea what the racial make-up of Jackson Falls, Oregon was.

“Interesting thing. As Jackson Falls and our neighboring town, Chinook Woods, have grown, this has become probably one of the most diverse enclaves in the entire state. I think Black people come to visit the lodge, fall in love with the surroundings, and relocate here. The more Black faces that move in, the more comfortable other Black people become with considering a move here. Jackson Falls is about 30 percent Black, 30 percent white, and 30 percent Native. The other 10 percent is probably Hispanic. Chinook Woods is about the same.”

“That’s fascinating. I can’t wait to venture into town and see what you all have going on in Jackson Falls.”

She chuckled.

“Is there a hair salon that caters to Black women in town?”

“There isn’t. Not yet. I would love to get my salon back up and running before that happens.”

“How many stylists does it take to run the salon here in the lodge?”

“I could run it with a good floor manager and three to four dedicated stylists. How many stylists did you have at your salon?”

“Five… and the most awesome floor manager in the city. I also had a receptionist.”

She nodded slowly. “I would need at least two girls that knew Black hair. One that could do wigs, weaves, and such. Somebody who could do… event hairstyles. You know… weddings, baby moon photoshoots, milestone birthdays… stuff like that. And one who could do natural hair and maybe braids.” She cut her eyes at me.

“I haven’t thought about what it would take to reopen the salon in ages. I wasn’t sure I would ever reopen it.”

My eyes bugged. “Why not? That place has everything. The salon by itself could be a destination. Offering Olaplex, balayage, keratin treatments, low-level light therapy, scalp treatments… I mean, the list is extensive. Any of those services could encourage people to visit the lodge.”

“I like the way you think, Ms. Kingsley. Any chance I could talk you into considering a move to Jackson Falls to get that set up? I’d let you buy into the salon.” She held up a hand. “Not into the lodge but into the salon.” She gave me a winning smile.

I chuckled. “It is beautiful here.”

“It is.”

“But I haven’t seen anything but the lodge and the mountains so far.

I don’t even know what Jackson Falls has to offer besides Manor at Sienna Sunset .

And I have to be honest. I’m like your nieces and baby cousins.

If I start considering getting a husband, I would really want me one of those Black husbands. ”

“Well, I have four Black sons. Go ahead and claim you one. We’ll start working on him together.”

We giggled.

After my tour of the lodge’s property, I decided that it was time for me to see the town of Jackson Falls.

My GPS led me to Second Street. It seemed to be the main thoroughfare in town with lots of businesses and foot traffic.

I pulled into the parking lot of Mountainside Market .

It billed itself as a sustainable grocery store.

When I looked up what that meant, I knew I needed to stop by and check it out.

The store was modern and cute with a vibrantly colorful produce section as soon as you came through the door.

I wanted to pick up a few snacks for me to keep in my cottage. I headed straight for the produce. From my research on the store, I knew that the best prices would be on the fruit that was both in season and that they could get from a local grower.

I grabbed some fruit before I made my way through the store.

They had plenty of things that I could snack on between meals or late at night when the lodge restaurants were closed.

Leaving the grocery store with my bag, I strolled down Second Street people watching and taking in the local businesses.

When I came upon a bakery, Second Street Sweets , I dipped in.

The bakery wasn’t crowded, but there were patrons inside.

I noticed a Black woman, probably a little younger than me, with two little girls.

They sat at a table happily eating their treats.

Both girls wore intricately designed French braids.

I stepped toward the lady and the girls. “Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but the girls’ hair is beautiful.”

She smiled the wary smile of a person who wasn’t sure of what was coming next. “Thank you.”

“Do you get it done somewhere around here locally?”

She chuckled a little. “No. We don’t have any place around here that braids like this. I’m from Philly, so luckily I knew how to braid before we moved out here. I do it myself. Some of their little friends even ask me to do theirs, and I do a few women from church.”

“Do you have a card?”

“Oh no. I don’t work in a shop or anything. I do it in my living room.” She hesitated. “And I don’t do strangers.”

“I like your green hair,” one of the little ones said to me.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I was just saying how much I like your braids.” I turned back to the woman. “My name is Collins Kingsley. I’m from Chicago, but I’m staying at Manor at Sienna Sunset for the next few days.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out one of my business cards—an old habit. She took it from my hand.

“I owned a hair salon for years. Anyway, the owner of the lodge mentioned to me that she was thinking about maybe reopening the salon up there. She was saying that she would need a braider.”

“Oh, I don’t have a license or anything like that. Like I said, I just do my girls and a few of their friends and stuff.”

“Would you be willing to get one?”

“I doubt it. Seems like a lot of time and money for not a lot of benefit. This is the Pacific Northwest, baby. We’re an outdoorsy, nature-loving group of people.

We own farms, ranches, and small businesses.

We’re not going to galas or fundraisers.

We don’t really have much need for getting all dolled up. ”

I nodded slowly. “I get that. But do you know who does have a need for getting all dolled up? The Black women who can afford to have their weddings, honeymoons, baby moons, bridal showers, and bachelorette getaways at Manor at Sienna Sunset Resort . They have money to spend and hair on their heads. These are typically upwardly mobile women that take their own self-care seriously and tip well. Just think about it. If you ever decide that you want to know more, you can call the number on the card, and I’ll put you in touch with Mrs. Beverly Strong, or you can call the resort directly yourself. Have a great rest of your day.”