Golden Girl(18)

Or…maybe JP was concerned because Amy’s relationship with the kids had always been iffy, at best. (Willa was polite and formal with her, Carson ran hot and cold depending on what she needed from JP and Amy that day, and Leo was indifferent.) Amy usually took JP’s lead when it came to his kids, which meant dinners once a month, showing up at their home games and staying for at least one quarter, and making plans for whichever holiday was JP’s that year. It finally occurred to Amy that she should make an effort on her own. In the spring, she told both girls that she would give them free beauty services anytime. Willa had sniffed at the offer, but Carson jumped at the chance to come to the salon after hours. Carson was so pretty already that she was hard to improve upon, but Amy went all out, giving her a trim and a blow-dry, plus a tint and wax for her brows. Afterward, Carson asked Amy if she wanted to grab a drink at Petrichor, the wine bar.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” Amy told Lorna later.

They each had two glasses of wine and shared the charcuterie platter. Carson talked about her bartending job at the Oystercatcher, which would start in a few weeks. Amy asked Carson if she was dating anyone and Carson said, “No. Yes. Maybe. I can’t talk about it.” Which felt like a confidence. Amy had tactfully switched the topic to Euphoria, the show they were both binge-watching.

With that success under her belt, Amy moved on to Leo. She brought cupcakes to his final lacrosse game and offered to throw him a graduation party at the house. Leo made a squeamish face and then informed Amy that his mom was hosting a party.

“I’m sure you and Dad can come,” Leo said.

“Of course we’ll come!” Amy said.

Amy had never been invited to Vivi’s new house (named Money Pit for the obvious reasons). She had mixed feelings about going, but JP double-checked with Vivi and confirmed it was fine, they were more than welcome. Amy promised herself she would act like a normal human being and not like a sociopath who stuffed the coats in the trash. Amy wore a new dress, black with white polka dots, and she bought Leo a graduation card and stuck one of her own hard-earned hundred-dollar bills inside. At the party, Amy tried to match Vivi’s graciousness, even though Amy was uncomfortable and overdressed (Vivi wore white jeans and a University of Colorado T-shirt). She praised Vivi’s hot bacon-and-blue-cheese dip (it was delicious); she offered to take a picture of JP, Vivi, and Leo together; she chatted with the few people who didn’t turn their backs or drift away when they saw Amy coming.

I am finally fitting in! she telegraphed to JP. I’ve gotten the hang of it. Marry me!



She might be imagining it, but it seems the more headway she makes with the kids, the more distant JP becomes. Amy feels him pulling away; she’s been tempted to check his phone. JP has a lot of young women working for him at the Cone, some of whom wear cutoffs even though the Cone is kept at a brisk sixty-five degrees.

Another fear she has is that she and JP will get engaged but they will never get married because if they did, the money from Vivi would dry up. Vivi’s money is like a noose placed lovingly around Amy’s neck. There are times when Amy’s jealousy of the woman gets so bad that she wishes Vivi would just disappear—move off-island or spontaneously combust. Then all of Amy’s problems would be solved.



The good thing about Saturdays in June is that everyone is out of the salon by four o’clock. Amy finishes her last bride at quarter to four—the wedding is at six at the Sconset Chapel—and a hush comes over the place, which is nice, though Amy feels a little bit like Cinderella after the stepsisters leave for the ball. Her clients are off to pose for endless pictures, drink cocktails, eat hors d’oeuvres, listen to toasts, cut into beef Wellington, drink more cocktails, do the Electric Slide, and shamelessly hook up with the groom’s third cousin or the bride’s college roommate.

Amy takes a paper cup from the watercooler and fills it with the dregs of a bottle of champagne that is sitting in a bucket of melting ice near her chair. Amy hasn’t had a thing to eat all day (which feels good) and the champagne goes straight to her head (which feels even better). Her top drawer is overflowing with manila tip envelopes.

Lorna comes over as soon as her last client leaves and says, “How are you holding up?”

“Great, but that was a hell of a day.”

An incredulous expression washes over Lorna’s face. “You didn’t ring JP, did you?”

“No,” Amy says. “I didn’t have a second.”

Lorna sighs. “Come outside, let’s have a cig.”

They step out onto the deck facing the back parking lot and light up. There’s a table and chairs; Amy eats her lunch out here when the weather is nice and she has time. The first drag of her cigarette is a balm. She throws back what’s left of the champagne and crumples the cup in her hand. “Should I sit down?”

“Yes.” Lorna is so serious that Amy thinks for the first time that maybe she should be afraid.

“Is everything okay?” Amy says. She wonders if Willa miscarried again or if something happened to JP’s mother, Lucinda. A stroke or a broken hip.

“Well.” Lorna eyes Amy and blows smoke out of the side of her mouth. “No, not really. But jeezy, Pigeon, I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”

“Take what?” Amy says. Her stomach squelches.