A Mother's Homecoming(37)
“Business has doubled since you’ve been here,” Dawn whispered in between blowing steam off the top of her mug. The two of them were stealing a few moments’ respite in the gi-normous storage closet that served as break room.
“Ah.” Pam stirred vigorously. “So it’s not just my imagination, then?” She used obscene amounts of sugar in her coffee, but she figured that, as far as vices went, that one was pretty innocuous. Life with Julia—who never met a sweetener she liked—was making Pam’s habit even worse.
“You know,” Dawn said sympathetically, “not everyone’s here to gawk. Some people generally—”
“I realize the two of you are superbusy gabbing,” Nancy announced from the doorway, enunciating her words so clearly that people down at Granny K’s could probably make out what she was saying, “but there’s someone out here who’s specifically requested Pamela Jo.”
“Coming,” Pam called cheerfully. She enjoyed being cheerful to Nancy; it seemed to tick off the bitter woman. Dropping her voice, she turned to Dawn with a sigh. “You were saying, about how not everyone’s coming to gawk?”
Dawn smiled sheepishly. “Look at it this way, most of the gawkers stick around as paying customers. You’re like a one-woman boost to the local economy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Pam took one last sip of her coffee and poured the remainder into the sink. “Got a mint?”
“Sure.” Dawn fished a plastic container out of her apron pocket, although if the person here to see Pam was only showing up to get good gossip, they probably deserved her rank coffee breath.
Nah. No one deserves that.
Pasting a cordial smile on her face and reminding herself of the latest batch of supplies she planned to purchase after work, she emerged into the main room of the salon. And found all eyes on her—some through surreptitious, sidelong glances, other gazes nakedly curious. Let them goggle, she didn’t care. The only pair of eyes she was concerned with were the hazel ones staring back at her, filled with equal measures uncertainty and youthful bravado.
“Faith!”
The girl tucked her hair back behind her ear. “H-hi, Mom.”
Pam flinched. “Don’t call me that.” Not here, surrounded by these vultures.
Cosmic irony. When Pam had been Faith’s age, she hadn’t want anyone to link her to Mae Wilson in public because she’d been embarrassed, felt she was better than her mother. Now Pam didn’t want anyone to pay close attention to her relationship to Faith because the kid deserved better. Far better.
Rather than timidly retreat, Faith scowled, demonstrating a spark of temper. “Why not? You are my mother. Everyone in town knows it already. Pretending otherwise won’t change anything.”
“Fair enough.” Pam didn’t have much practice defusing angry tweens, but she figured proceeding with caution was her best bet. “How did you get here?” Mimosa was too small to sustain public transportation, but not so small that the girl could have walked to the salon from where she lived.
“Doesn’t matter,” Faith answered. “I just wanted to come say hello. And … and get my hair cut!” She tacked this last part on rather desperately, as if it were a spontaneous bid to keep Pam from sending her away.
Seeing the girl’s vulnerability immediately after her anger made it all the more striking. Despite Faith’s bravado, she was as fragile as Nick had worried she’d be when it came to her mother. Pam’s heart tripped over itself, the beats erratic and her mood conflicted. She wasn’t used to thinking of herself as a mother. She shied away from the title, knowing she hadn’t earned it.
“You don’t have to get a haircut,” Pam said, wondering if her father gave her money for stuff like that or if she was dipping into her allowance, literally paying for the chance to spend a few minutes in Pam’s company. That possibility caused another pang. “Come on. We can go for a walk or something.”
If they stayed in the shaded parts along the sidewalk, it might even be a pleasant day for it. September was just around the corner, and some mornings there were hints of fall in the air. October and November were when it really started to turn pretty, with cooler breezes and colored leaves and—
With a start, Pam realized she would be gone before then. Surely even a handywoman with her inexperience could have the house in passable shape before October!
“I don’t want to leave, I just got here,” Faith said mulishly. “I want to get my hair cut. I don’t mind waiting my turn if everyone’s busy.”