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Chapter Two

An emergency call came when he was finished with Karen’s car. The early ’70s model with a rusting olive-green paint job managed to start after several attempts. There was no doubt about it—the car needed serious help.

He shut off the ignition, tucked the spare key back into place behind the visor and climbed out into the scorching sunshine.

Karen’s scent from her car seat—a combination of baby shampoo and vanilla—clung to his shirt. A sharp ache of longing speared through him, old and familiar, and he ignored it. Over the years he’d gotten good at ignoring it. The scent tickled his nose as he ambled across the gravel lot. He ignored that, too.

The coffee shop looked like it was quieting down. The group of tourists must have headed out, now that their bus was as good as new. He didn’t have time to step inside and wait for Karen to get back from her errands, not with an elderly woman’s radiator boiling over in this heat.

There was nothing else to do but to hop into his truck and let the air-conditioning distribute the faint scent of vanilla and baby shampoo.

Great. That was going to remind him of Karen for the rest of the afternoon.

When he’d been patching up her cut, he’d been close enough to see the shadows in her dream-blue eyes. He hated that there wasn’t a thing he could do to comfort her.

Anyone could see a woman as fine as Karen belonged with a man like Jay, a man with a big future ahead of him. And even on the off chance that Karen didn’t marry Jay, it wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.

He took a ragged breath, vowing to put her out of his mind. He checked for traffic on the quiet street and pulled out of the alley.

As he drove down the main street, he saw Karen coming out of the town’s combination florist and gift shop. His pulse screeched to a stop at the sight of her. She didn’t see him, walking away from him the way she was, so he could take his time watching her. Karen was fine, all right, and as beautiful as a spring morning. Head down, long light brown hair tumbling forward over her face, she carried a live plant that was thick with yellow blossoms.

No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.

Some things weren’t meant to be.

Zach headed the truck east away from town and did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.

Karen watched as her gramma’s spotless classic Ford eased slowly into the cemetery parking lot. The rumble of the engine broke the peace of the late afternoon.

She stood, squinting against the brilliant sun, and left Allison’s flower-decorated grave. She waited while her grandmother parked her car and then emerged, clutching a bouquet of white roses.

“I recognized your rattletrap of a car in the lot.” Gramma held her arms wide. “How’s my girl?”

“Fine. I’m just fine.” Karen dodged the bouquet and stepped into her grandmother’s hug. More warmth filled her, and all the worries bottled up inside her eased. “I shouldn’t have left you with the shop like that. I shouldn’t have let you bully me.”

“You were powerless to stop me.” Gramma stepped away, squinting carefully, measuring her with a wise, sharp-eyed glare. “Don’t try to fool me, young lady. You don’t look fine. You look like you’re missing your sister.”

“She was my best friend.”

“I know.” Gramma’s voice dipped, full of understanding. “Let me go set these on her grave. She loved white roses so much.”

Tears burned in Karen’s throat, and it hurt to remember. She remained in the shade of the oaks, so that her grandmother would have time alone at Allison’s grave.

Karen watched as the older woman ambled across the well-manicured grounds, through lush green grass and past solemn headstones.

Sorrow surrounded this place, where bright cheerful flowers and a few colorful balloons decorated graves. At the other end of the cemetery, she could see another family laying flowers on a headstone in memory.

Time had passed, taking grief with it, but Karen didn’t think anything could fix the emptiness of Allison’s absence in her life or in her family. Not time, not love or hope.

She waited while her grandmother laid the flowers among the dozens of others. She waited longer while the older woman sank to her knees, head bowed in prayer.

In the distance, a lawn mower droned, and overhead, larks chirped merrily. It was like any other summer afternoon, but this day was different.

“Now that I’ve given thanks for the granddaughters I still have, I’m ready to go.” Gramma took Karen’s hand. “I closed the shop for you, so there’s no sense hurrying back this late in the day just to open it for an hour. Why don’t you come home with me and give me a hand?”

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Good, because I promised your mother that I would make sure supper’s on the table tonight, not that anyone will feel much like eating. But since she’s my daughter, I’ll do whatever she’ll let me do. And if that’s to make my famous taco cheese and macaroni casserole, then so be it.”

“What about Mom? Dad’s busy with the harvest. Maybe I should run home first and see how she is. Make sure she isn’t alone.”

“One of your sisters is with her—Kirby, I think. I called from the shop before I came here.”

Karen felt the sun on her face, the wind tangling her hair and the disquiet in her heart. So many responsibilities pulled at her, but she could feel her grandmother’s love. Because they were standing in a cemetery with both life and death all around, she nodded, unable to say the words.

There was never enough time on this earth to spend with loved ones. It was a truth she couldn’t ignore, not after losing Allison. Time was passing even as she let Gramma lead her toward the parking lot where their cars waited in the shade.

“Do you need me to stop by the store and pick up anything?” Karen asked as she opened her car door.

“I already did. No grass grows under these feet,” Gramma answered, her blue eyes alight with many emotions.

Karen’s throat tightened, and she climbed into the driver’s seat. Even with the windows rolled down to let in the temperate breezes, she could still smell the scents of mechanic’s grease and Old Spice, evidence of the man who’d sat behind this wheel only hours ago.

A rumble of a powerful engine drew her attention. In her rearview mirror she caught sight of Zach’s blue-and-white tow truck rolling up the driveway.

She turned the key in the ignition and gave the gas pedal a few good pumps, and the engine started and died. Started and died. Started and coughed to life. Gramma was parked at the edge of the lot, patiently waiting.

Karen put her car in gear and pulled around, having only enough time to wave to Zach as he rumbled into one of many empty parking spots. He lifted a hand in return. The tips of yellow blossoms waved above the dash, and she sped away, somehow touched beyond words.

She knew without asking that he’d brought flowers for her sister’s grave.

“Is this why you asked me over?” Karen turned to her grandmother the minute she stepped foot inside the kitchen door. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up Mom and Dad’s cause?”

“What cause, dear?” Gramma set her purse and keys on the nearby counter.

“Trying to show me how wrong I am to call off my wedding.” Trying to control her anger, Karen pointed at the sunny picture window. Over the top of the short cedar fence, she could see Jay mowing his mother’s lawn next door. “I’m not going to be pressured about this.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you.” Gramma circled around the polished oak table and headed for the refrigerator.

“No, but silence speaks volumes.” Karen turned her back on the window. She wouldn’t let the guilt in. “You think I’m going to forgive him and marry him anyway, just like Mom does. Like everyone does.”

“I respect your choice, either way.” Gramma set two cans of diet cola on the counter. “Of course, Jay is awfully handsome. He’s dependable and easy on the eyes.”

“He doesn’t love me, Gramma.”

“Then why on earth did he propose to you?”

Karen didn’t answer. She couldn’t admit the truth. If Allison were alive, she would have been able to confide in her, but who else would understand?

Karen watched as her grandmother calmly scooped ice into two glasses. She worked methodically, easily, content with the silence. Tall and slim, she looked comfortable in her usual flowered dress and low, sensible shoes.

“Sit down.” With a clink Gramma set the glasses on the round oak table and looked through her glasses perched on her nose. “Tell me all about it.”

“About what?”

“What’s taken away my favorite granddaughter’s smile.”

“I don’t want to talk about Jay.” Karen pulled out a chair and settled onto the cushioned seat. “Or how I’m looking thirty in the face and don’t have any better prospects.”

“Fine. Then we won’t talk about Jay.” Gramma took a sip of soda, understanding alight in her eyes. “Most of my friends have great-grandchildren by now. Nora was one of the last holdouts. Then her granddaughter married Matthew and got those triplet boys. I don’t suppose I’m going to be that lucky.”

“Don’t count on it. I see where you’re going with this. You’re trying to get me to talk about my breakup with Jay.”

“Not at all. I’m just sharing some of my troubles with you for a change. At my last Ladies’ Aid meeting, Lois had new pictures of her adorable great-granddaughter.”

“You’re feeling left out. Is that it?”

“Yes, but you don’t look very sorry for me.”

“Sure I am. I’m hiding it deep inside.”

Gramma’s eyes twinkled, full of trouble. “If you went ahead and married Jay, then in a year or so I’d have my own great-grandbaby to show off. I’ve got to keep up with my friends.”

“I see. It’s a status thing. Like having a new car or the right house?”

“Exactly.”

Karen ran a finger through the condensation on the outside of her glass. “Jay has one semester left at seminary, and then he wants me to sell the coffee shop.”

“Why is that?”

“He needs me to help him with his career. A pastor’s wife belongs at her husband’s side, he told me. Then he asked how much equity I had in the building.”

“I see.” Gramma nodded sagely. “You and Allison opened that shop together. It would be hard to sell just for the money.”

“I got angry and so did he. He said some harsh things—” She took a deep breath. “He told me the real reason he wanted to marry me. Because I was someone he could count on. I work hard, I know how to run a business and I’m comfortable, like an old friend. He needs someone dependable to help him with his career.”

“I see.” Gramma lowered her glass to the polished table. Ice cubes clinked in the silence between them. “Those words must have been hard to hear from the man you loved.”

“I was in love with him.”

“Not anymore?”

“How can it be love, if he doesn’t love me back?” Anguish filled her. “Everyone tells me I’m wrong. I should be lucky to have a man like Jay who wants to marry me. He’s going to go far, and he’ll be a good husband.”

“They don’t know the real story, do they? You haven’t told this to anyone but me.”

“Not even Mom.” Karen let out a shaky sigh. She’d never felt so confused in her life. “I don’t know what to do. Am I wrong? I love Jay—at least a part of me did—and is that enough? Do I settle for friendship? Or am I throwing away something good? It feels as if I’ve done the right thing and the wrong thing all at the same time. You were married to Granddad for thirty years, so tell me what you think.”

“I know one thing.” Gramma reached across the table and her warm, caring hand covered Karen’s. “Love without passion is like lukewarm water. It’s not good for much.”

“Then you think I did the right thing?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy. Forever is a long time with a man who doesn’t love you the way you want to be loved.”

Some of the weight lifted from her chest, and Karen managed to take a sip of soda. “I thought you wanted great-grandchildren.”

“I want my granddaughter to be happy. That’s more important to me than anything in this world, even keeping up with Lois.” Gramma’s fingers squeezed gently, a reminder of the love Karen had known her entire life. “It’s tough when the man you’re interested in thinks you’re a cup of lukewarm tea. I have the same problem with Clyde.”

“Clyde Winkler, the man you’ve been seeing?”

“You look surprised.” Gramma took a long sip of her cola. “What? You don’t think a woman my age can have a love life, is that it?”

“I’m speechless.”

“And do you know what I’ve figured out? Men are all the same. They haven’t changed a bit since 1940. Still as thickheaded as ever.”

“Surely not every man in existence.”

“The one I’m interested in, at least.” Gramma stared out the window, where the drone of Jay’s mower grew louder, then began fading away. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told a living soul. Once, I was in the same situation you’re in.”

“You called off a wedding?” Karen leaned closer. “With Granddad?”

“I almost did. I was younger than you are now, but back then, girls married much younger. All my friends from school had husbands, and I desperately wanted to get married. More than anything. Oh, what plans I had! I wanted a house of my own, children to raise and a man to take care of.”

“Which you did. Granddad was wonderful.”

“But he wasn’t the love of my life.” The confession was a quiet one, hardly loud enough to be heard above the hum of the air-conditioning.

Karen dropped her glass. Ice cubes and soda sloshed over the rim and onto the table.

Gramma calmly reached for the napkin holder and began mopping up the mess. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

“But you loved Granddad. I know you did. I saw you together.”

“I did love him in a hundred different ways. As my husband, as the father of my children, as my best friend. But not in the most wondrous way. He never said, but I know that he felt it, too. He tried and I tried. While we made a life together, we lacked something important.” Gramma rose and dropped the wet napkins in the garbage container. “We didn’t have a deep emotional connection. That was something we couldn’t make together, no matter how hard we tried.”

I don’t believe it, Karen thought. Denial speared through her. Her grandparents had always been happy together.

No, seemed happy together, she corrected herself. And as she watched her gramma’s shoulders slump and felt the truth in the air, Karen realized the pain her grandmother must have silently lived with every day of her marriage.

When Gramma straightened, what looked like sadness and regret marked her face. “Your granddad told me once that he was glad to be with such a reliable woman. That out of all the women he could have married, he’d been lucky to wind up with me.

“Reliable.” Her voice shook a little. “I loved Norman deeply, but not deeply enough. Just as he could never love me. Even now I wonder what it would have been like for us if we’d managed to figure out what we were missing. We were never really happy. We were never truly unhappy. Lukewarm.”

Karen stood and paced to the window. She could see Jay in his mother’s backyard, pushing the mower. Tall and dependable, he was a handsome man with golden hair and sun-bronzed skin. The faint growl of the engine rumbled through the glass, and looking at the man whose ring she’d worn made sadness weigh on her heart. “Granddad wasn’t your true love.”

“I made a life with him and it worked out fine. I was blessed. I won’t say otherwise.” Gramma paused, letting the silence fall between them. “But a woman yearns to be something more than ‘reliable’ or ‘comfortable’ to the man she loves.”

Karen turned from the window, relief filling her. “That’s the real reason why I broke the engagement. It wasn’t only about the coffee shop. He doesn’t really love me, so how will he feel about me in ten years?”

“Love can grow and deepen with time.” Gramma slipped an arm around Karen’s shoulder. “But there are never any guarantees. Are you having regrets?”

“I know I hurt him. He’s a fine man, but he’s not the right one. I’ve prayed and prayed over it. Mom thinks I’m being foolish. But you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. Did the Lord answer your prayers?”

“No. No confirmation either way.”

“You’re a good girl. God will answer you. Be patient.”

“See, that’s my problem. I’m not good. I’m just average.”

“Average? My granddaughter? Nonsense.” Gramma marched Karen to the table and gestured for her to sit. “You are a bright, beautiful young woman and as good as can be. I ought to know, since I’m your grandmother. A woman my age is wise about these things.”

“You’re biased.”

“I guess love will do that.” Gramma ran her fingers through Karen’s brown hair. “Do you know what I think?”

“I’m afraid to guess.”

“You might look good as a blonde. Ever think of that?”

“What do you mean? Color my hair? What does that have to do with this conversation?”

“You’d be surprised.” Gramma looked up into the mirror on the wall behind the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking about getting rid of this gray hair. Maybe that’s my problem. If I dyed my hair red and bought a sports car, I wouldn’t be the same old reliable Helen.”

“You wouldn’t be the grandmother I know and love.”

“I’m not getting any younger, so why wait? And at my age, what am I waiting for? I want something different than spending most of my days in this lonely house. I want to know passion in my life. That’s what I want.”

Karen twisted around in her chair, surprised at the unhappiness etched on her grandmother’s face.

“You and I have the same problem, Karen. We’ve been good girls all our lives and in my case, it’s been a few decades too long.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been living a lukewarm life for sixty years now, and that’s not how I want to be remembered. I don’t want people to say, ‘Helen was nice,’ at my funeral. I want them to say, ‘Remember the fun we had the day Helen drove us through town in her new convertible.’”

Karen’s hand trembled, and she didn’t know what to say. Today at the cemetery, she’d felt the same—that time on this earth was too short to spend with regrets.

Sympathy for her grandmother filled her. “If you want, I’ll go with you to the beauty shop. We’ll get your hair done so you’ll look beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear. I knew you’d understand.” Gramma held her close, and Karen hugged her long and hard, grateful for this grandmother she loved so much.

Chapter Three

Karen was placing fresh flowers on the tables in the quiet hours before the lunch rush started when an engine’s rumble on the street outside her shop caught her attention. A gleaming black motorcycle pulled into an empty parking spot out front, ridden by a man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.

“There’s trouble,” matronly Cecilia Thornton, Jay’s mom, commented over her iced latte.

“With a capital T,” Marj Whitly agreed.

With the way Zach’s muscled shoulders and wide chest stretched out that T-shirt, there was no word other than ‘trouble’ to describe him. Karen watched him swing one leg easily over the bike’s seat and unbuckle his helmet. Shocks of thick brown hair tumbled across his brow.

Zach might look larger than life, but she knew at heart that he was a good man.

He strolled down the walk in front of the row of windows and winked when he caught sight of her. Eager for the sight of a friendly face, Karen quickly set the last little vase in the center of the last table.

The bell above the front door chimed. Zach strode through the door. Her pulse skipped and she didn’t know why.

“Working hard on a Saturday, as usual. Don’t you know you’re missing a fantastic morning out there?” Zach raked one hand through his tousled locks, rumpling them even more. He lowered his voice. “I’d offer you an escape on my bike, but I don’t think Jay’s mom will approve.”

“You noticed her glaring at you?” Karen circled around the counter.

“Always.” His eyes sparkled, holding no ill will toward the woman who frowned at him from the far corner of the dining room.

“Is it too early for lunch?”

“Not in my shop.”

“Then I’ll have a bologna and cheese with mayo and mustard, on white.” Zach nodded in Cecilia’s direction. “Good morning, ladies.”

The two women’s eyes widened in surprise. Cecilia managed a polite response, even though it was clear she didn’t approve of the likes of Zachary Drake.

See? With that kind of attitude in Jay’s family, it was a good thing she’d broken her engagement.

Zach leaned over the counter, a mischievous grin curving across his mouth. “I don’t think they approve of my mode of transportation.”

“It’s not the bike, Zach.”

“Are you saying those woman don’t approve of me?”

“You’re crushed, I see.”

“Devastated. Is Cecilia’s death-ray glare of disapproval getting to you?”

Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, Karen donned clear plastic gloves. “Cecilia’s death-ray stares aren’t hurting me any. I missed you this morning. You didn’t come in for coffee. Are you two-timing me over at the diner?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a devoted man. Not even the diner’s full breakfast menu can tempt me away from your charming shop.”

“A loyal customer. Just what I like to hear.”

“I have to confess I made my own java and took a thermos of it fishing with me this morning.”

“I didn’t know bachelors could make coffee.”

“You see, there’s this little scoop that comes in the can. It’s easy to measure.”

“A can? You didn’t even grind your own beans?” Karen unwrapped a loaf of fresh bread. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I know, but I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I’ll bring my thermos over and let you fill it for me.”

How did he do it, she wondered. With that dazzling smile and his melting-chocolate voice, Zach could chase away her troubles and leave her smiling.

“How’s that car of yours?”

“Still running, and don’t look so surprised.”

“Only prayers are keeping that heap going, believe me. When it finally breaks down for good, give me a call and I’ll help you out.”

“Unlike you, I have complete faith.”

“Unlike you, I’ve looked under the hood, and that car’s doomed, Karen. I’m telling you this as a friend. I’ve already ordered a used engine.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“We’ll work something out or we can barter. Car parts for sandwiches?”

“That’s a lot of sandwiches.”

Zach sent Cecilia a brief, imposing glare. “Mrs. Thornton still hasn’t forgiven you for dumping her son?”

“Does it look like it?”

“If she’s upset, what’s she doing in your shop?”

“This is the only place in town to buy a latte.” Karen sighed.

“You’re doing the right thing, giving it time.” He meant to be comforting. “Everyone knows you and Jay will get back together.”

“Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.” Karen concentrated extra hard on her sandwich making. “I suppose that’s what you think, too, isn’t it? That good, dependable Karen will do what’s sensible. And why not? It’s what I’ve always done.”

“That’s the problem with a small town. People make up their minds about what kind of person you are, and it doesn’t matter how honest you try to be when it comes to their repair bills, they still see what they’re used to seeing.”

“I know what you mean.” Karen’s pulse skipped again. Had Zach’s eyes always been so blue? “Have a good afternoon.”

“Good luck surviving Cecilia’s death-ray stare.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter and took the paper sack from her.

His hand brushed hers and burned her like a hot flame.

Why was she feeling like this? Confused, she watched Zach push open the door, causing the bell to jangle overhead. For a brief moment he glanced at her, his eyes dark with unmistakable sympathy.

Then he turned and was gone. The bell chimed again as the door snapped shut, and Karen felt as if all the warmth had gone from the room. What was wrong with her? What was going on?

She didn’t mean to be watching him, but there he was. Striding down the walk with the wind tousling his dark hair. He looked as rakish as a pirate, and yet as dependable as the earth. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and then he disappeared from her sight.

Caffeine, that’s what she needed. Karen reached for the pitcher of iced tea and poured a tall glass. The sweet cool liquid slid down the back of her throat, but it didn’t ease the confusion within her.

The bell chimed again. Zach—had he come back? Karen held her breath as the door swung open to reveal not her handsome mechanic but someone just as welcome. Her grandmother swept into the room wearing a red T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts and tennis shoes.

Karen nearly dropped her glass. “What happened to you?”

“I raided Michelle and Kirby’s closets. I’ve been wearing dresses all my life. It’s time for a change.” Gramma set her purse on the counter. It was a neat slim red pocketbook instead of the sensible black handbag she always carried.

What was going on?

Gramma faced the dining room and clapped her hands. “Ladies, Karen sure appreciates your business, but she’s going to have to close up shop for a few hours. I know you understand. Here, Cecilia, let me get a paper cup so you can take your latte with you.”

Cecilia’s disapproving glare gained new intensity. “Helen, whatever have you done to yourself?”

“What? A woman can’t wear shorts in the heat of summer?” Her grandmother looked nonplussed as she transferred Cecilia’s latte from the mug to the paper cup. “Now, head on out so I can lock the door.”

“Gramma!” Karen stepped forward before her grandmother took over completely. “You can’t do this. It’s nearly time for the lunch crowd.”

“But you have to leave right now.” Gramma flipped the sign in the window so it read Closed. “It’s the only time Dawn over at the Snip & Style could fit us into her schedule.”

“What do you mean by ‘us’? You’re the one getting your hair colored. I’m going for moral support. That’s what we agreed to.”

“That’s not how I remember it. Come on, get your keys. I’m not about to be late, not when Dawn has promised me a whole new look.”

“Gramma, I’m glad you’re doing this. I’m thrilled, really. But lunch brings in the biggest sales of the day. I can’t miss it. Maybe Michelle can—”

“Your sister has a client scheduled—you. I mean it, ladies, out of those chairs. Hustle.” Gramma gave a good-humored clap, looking as if she were herding reluctant deer from her rose garden. “Thanks, ladies. Karen sure appreciates it.”

“Anything for our Karen,” Marj Whitly said warmly. “That’s just the thing she needs, Helen. Time for herself at the beauty parlor, a complete shampoo and facial. Restores the spirit, it does. Then she’ll be over her wedding jitters and can get down to the business of marrying your son, Cecilia.”

Karen opened her mouth to protest, but Gramma winked at her, so she offered Marj a lid for her cup instead.

Gramma locked the door after the women departed. “Leave your purse. This is my treat.”

“What treat? I’m going to say this one more time so you understand. I’m going along for moral support only.”

“Of course you are,” Gramma said indulgently. “Now get a move on, because I don’t want to be late for my new life.”

See? This is what always got her into trouble. In the end, she hadn’t been able to disappoint her grandmother. Look what that had gotten her.

“It wasn’t supposed to do this,” Michelle, her youngest sister, apologized. “Working with hair is always tricky. You have a lot of naturally gold highlights in your hair, which was a surprise considering it’s such a dull brown—”

“I never should have agreed to this.” Karen wished she had Cecilia Thornton’s knack for a death-ray glare. “I should’ve never trusted you.”

“I guess I left the color in too long.”

“You guess?” She could only stare in the mirror at her wet, scraggly hair. It hung in limp, ragged strands and shone perfectly gold. Except in about ten or twelve places. “Look what you did to me. My own baby sister.”

“Sorry. This is the first time I’ve ever turned someone’s hair green. Honest.”

“Fix it. Whatever you have to do, do it now.”

Michelle grabbed a fresh towel. “I know what to do. I think.”

“You think? What did they teach you at that school anyway?”

“They warned us never to work on our own relatives. Now I know why.” Michelle dashed away and disappeared from sight.

“It’s certainly different, I’ll grant you that,” Gramma said from the neighboring chair. “With those green streaks, you could be in the latest fashion. Anywhere but in Montana.”

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” Karen peered at her reflection, her heart sinking. What if Michelle couldn’t fix it? “I didn’t mind being mouse brown. At least my real color wouldn’t glow in the dark.”

“That’s the spirit. Don’t worry. We’ll turn you into a dazzling blonde yet. Michelle might be new at this, but Dawn here has decades of experience. She can work wonders. Why, look at me.”

“I’m looking.” Karen couldn’t believe her eyes as the other beautician switched on a blow dryer and began styling Gramma’s hair.

No more gray curls. Rich auburn locks fell in a short, feathery cut. She looked beautiful. Infinitely beautiful.

“I’ve always wanted to be a redhead,” Gramma confessed above the hum of the dryer. “It’s a whole new me.”

“You don’t need any improvement.” By contrast, Karen’s hair looked like a cosmetology school disaster. “Look at me. I could sure use something. Michelle, I want you to put this back the way it was.”