Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(34)

“What about Dad?” Matthew asked.

“He can fend for himself.”

“But…”

“He’s going to be late,” she informed her sons.

“Again?” both boys chimed.

“Get your coats.” Emily made an effort to sound excited. She grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes, which had begun to brim with tears.

This would never do. She squared her shoulders and determined then and there that she wasn’t going to cry. She would hold her head up and give the performance of her life. Her husband had lied. He might well be with another woman this very moment, but Emily would see to it that anyone looking at her, including her sons, would never guess. She refused to act devastated—or worse, humiliated.

“Hey, boys,” she said, collecting her coat and purse. “What would you think of me as a blonde?”

“You mean your hair?” Matthew asked.

“Yes, my hair. I’m going to have it dyed blond.”

“How come?” Mark studied her inquisitively.

“Because blondes have more fun.”

The boys turned to each other and Matthew shrugged.

“I’m going down to the mall to see if Get Nailed can squeeze me in.” On Thursdays the shop was open until eight. With luck one of the stylists had a cancellation.

“I’ll get you each a roll of quarters and you can play at the video arcade while I’m in the beauty salon.”

“Okay.” Neither boy seemed enthusiastic, however.

“Would you rather stay with Mrs. Johnson?” she asked. The woman served as their babysitter on the rare occasions Dave and Emily left their sons for a night out. It’d been weeks since they’d last had a “date.” No wonder, she thought bitterly. Dave was apparently dating someone else these days, while his wife sat home, cooking lasagna for him and ironing his shirts.

“I’d rather come with you,” Mark said.

Emily looked at her oldest son. “What about you?” she asked.

Matthew shrugged again. “Me, too, I guess.”

“You guess?” she said with a flippant air.

The boys silently followed her to the garage and slid into the backseat of the SUV. Christmas music was playing on the car radio but none of them sang along the way they usually did. The boys’ mood seemed to reflect hers, and their skepticism was all too apparent. Impulsive spending wasn’t normal behavior for Emily and they knew it. She wanted to reassure them but couldn’t. She felt as if her entire marriage had been a sham.

“We’ll check to see if I can get a hair appointment first,” she told them.

“Okay,” Mark murmured.

They stopped at Kitsap Bank for quarters, then drove to the mall. Everyone at Get Nailed was busy and Emily had to wait at the counter for several minutes before the receptionist reappeared.

“I was wondering…” Suddenly she wasn’t so certain anymore. Her anger, which had kept her determination alive, had begun to dissipate and she felt deflated.

“I realize it’s last-minute and everything, but is there anyone available to color my hair this afternoon?”

The young woman checked the appointment book. “Rachel had a cancellation earlier. I can ask her.”

“She did?” Emily took this as a sign. “Please check. It would be great if she could fit me in.”

The receptionist returned a moment later. “She said that would work.”

“Wonderful!”

Emily handed each of her sons a roll of quarters, with instructions to make the money last until her hair was done. They tore off for the video arcade across from the salon as the receptionist led her to Rachel’s station. Fortunately Emily could keep an eye on them from her chair.

“I’m Rachel,” a dark-haired woman introduced herself, draping a plastic cape around Emily’s shoulders.

“Emily Flemming,” she said. “We haven’t met before. Teri did my previous cut—” she frowned “—sometime this summer.”

Rachel ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. “So you want to be a blonde?”

“Yes. I hear they live life to the fullest and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” It was a flimsy reason, at best, and a silly one at worst, but at this point Emily didn’t care.

Soon she was at the shampoo bowl and her hair was lathered and rinsed twice. While the water sprayed her hair, Emily closed her eyes, trying not to think but unable to stop the thoughts from tramping through her brain, one after the other.

It didn’t hit her until the coloring process was underway that she’d forgotten a crucial part of the conversation with Judge Griffin.

Dave didn’t own a gold watch.

At least not one that she knew about. Since it was unlikely he’d purchased it for himself, that left only one other option. Someone else had given it to him.

A woman.

Fine, she decided furiously. She’d ask him about it. She was through letting her husband ruin their lives. Through with pretending nothing was wrong. Through with turning the other cheek. The pride, the pretense of indifference, was for public consumption. But Dave—she was going to confront him with the truth. Demand answers. Then she’d figure out what to do next.

When Rachel was finished, Emily barely recognized herself. Her straight dark hair was gone, replaced with a shorter, more stylish do. She was blond, all right. Very blond.