Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

"Sounds about Missy," I said. "Zero work, full credit. I remember her doing the same thing with group projects in high school."

"Yeah, not all of us matured after that milestone. I've tried to buy her out numerous times, but she won't budge. My stupid fault for trusting her back in the day," Kelly said as she snipped away at my hair. I hoped her anger didn't manifest on my head.

Kelly continued her rant. "The stupid part is she doesn't even have to work. Her husband has enough money for both of them."

"Who'd she end up marrying?" I asked.

If Missy still lived in this small town, chances were she'd met her husband here. Which meant I knew him too. I chanced a glance in Missy's direction. The shampoo girl had joined Missy and her friend behind the counter. Who'd want to marry her?

"Mike Vandenburg," Kelly answered. "He graduated my year."

"Oh, I remember him. Wasn't he the one Missy dated right before she went to study abroad?" I asked. Rumor had it she cheated on Linc with Mike. Among others.

"Study abroad, my butt. I have it on good authority that she went to fat camp. Remember how she packed on the pounds sophomore year?" Kelly asked with a chuckle.

"I honestly didn't pay that much attention to her. I tried to avoid your group as much as possible."

"Can't blame you. We were awful. Missy hasn't changed. In fact, it's gotten worse since Mike became acting mayor. She struts around like the first lady. But between you, me, and this hair dryer, he's as worthless as she is. He has a job at Daddy Vandenburg's seafood distribution company, but it’s only an excuse for an allowance."

"Sounds like a great family," I scoffed.

We lapsed into silence as Kelly blew out my hair. I observed the room in the mirror. My photographer's eye homed in on the light bouncing off the colored-product bottles, so I framed shots in my mind since I couldn't do it with my camera.

Next, I moved to the people; my real interest. My mother sat on the edge of her seat at the manicure station—poised for action, never really still. Her mouth moved as fast as her free hand. The manicurist gently took the newly polished flailing appendage and placed it back under the dryer. It stayed there for all of three seconds before my mother continued the story she told.

Behind the counter, Missy droned on about her kids, not really talking to anyone in particular, just liking the sound of her own voice. The two girls with her had given up on trying to look interested. The shampoo girl twirled a piece of hair, chomped gum, and scrolled through her phone. Occasionally, she'd give a little nod to acknowledge Missy's words, but Missy might as well have been talking to a brick wall. The epitome of the generation gap, I thought. If I were to shoot this moment, I'd use Missy's back as foreground and focus on the half-closed eyelids of the girl. I'd wait until the girl blew a bubble, or maybe just as it popped, to snap the photo.

"All done," Kelly said a few moments later. I wrenched my eyes away from the scene at the counter and ran my fingers through my newly cut and styled hair.

"Nice job!" I said, genuinely surprised. My hair actually had a little volume and some shape. No small feat given its thinness. Stupid Polish genes.

"Hope you don't mind. I added some layers. It's easy to maintain and gives you some movement and style."

"I love it," I said and meant it. "Thanks, Kelly. Hey, who's that girl with Missy? The one who shampooed my hair," I asked as Kelly removed my apron.

The girl's expression had changed slightly from dismissal to annoyance as Missy continued to talk. Something about her seemed familiar.

"That's Jodie. Missy's little sister."

"That's Jodie?" I asked in disbelief. The last time I saw the kid was when Jodie was a toddler. Nothing like a grown child to personify the passage of time. I really had been gone a long time.

"Yup. All grown-up and annoyed at the world. Like all teenage girls," Kelly said. "She works here sometimes whenever she can be bothered. Which isn't very often." She gestured with the scissors toward the counter. "As you can see."

"She must be what? Eighteen?"

"A little over twenty actually," Kelly said.

"Shoot. Time flies," I murmured. As I met Mom at the counter to pay, I gave the girl another cursory glance. I could see the resemblance now that I stood closer. Jodie looked a lot like teenaged Missy. I nodded in her direction when she caught me staring.

"Careful driving home, Alex," Missy called, sarcasm dripping from her honeyed voice as Mom and I walked out the door. "There are a couple more signs still left standing in town."

I closed the door on her laugh.

I got almost to the car before my embarrassment turned fully into anger and annoyance. Who did Missy think she was? We were supposed to be adults.

I turned on the scuffed heel of my boot and marched back toward the building.

"Alex! What are you doing?" Mom called a little desperately. I ignored her. I'd handled vipers in the Sahara and a troop of monkeys in the jungle. Surely, I could handle Missy Poledark.

When I pushed through the door, I heard Missy's loud, clear voice saying, "... never live this one down. She should just pack up and go back to the jungles of Brazil or whatever. She'd fit in there better anyway. I mean, did you see her boots?"

I cleared my throat and glared. Missy looked startled for a half second, then glared right back at me like a mongoose looks at a mouse. Well, this mouse wasn't going down quietly any longer.

"If you have something