Read Online Deadly Blessings by Julie Hyzy - Free Book Online Page B

and
textures of pale brown, looked like a tall beige sparrow, moving
her head with nervous jerks as her bright dark eyes took in my
office, one portion at a time. I could tell she wasn’t actually
seeing anything. She was trying to look at ease. Failing miserably.
But she had the look of an onscreen winner.
    Startled by the question, she shot her
attention my way and gave a small smile. “My grandmother’s name was
Wilda. It’s odd, I know, but no matter where I am, I’m always the
only one.”
    Wilda looked to me like a woman who didn’t
like to waste time. The prim way she held her French-manicured
hands atop her Chanel purse (I can recognize Chanel, even if I
can’t afford it), and her slightly forward lean, made me jump right
in. “Gabriela told me that you had some problems with a salon?”
    “ I’ll say.”
    She didn’t expand immediately, but I took it
more as a chance to gather her thoughts than an unwillingness to
talk. Rather than press, I waited. She studied her hands as they
crossed and recrossed themselves atop her purse, then gave a tiny
shake of her blond head.
    She didn’t let me down.
    “ It was the worst
experience of my life,” she said with emotion. Her eyes widened and
she pointed her index finger upward. I could see it tremble, even
as her face maintained calm. “My regular designer, Bethany, was off
on maternity leave. I swear, she picked the worst possible time to
take off. I had three formal dinners coming up. Three! And every
single one of them was key. I couldn’t afford to miss
them.”
    I glanced at my notes. “Did these have to do
with your line of work?”
    Her face conveyed the message that I’d asked
a stupid question. I get used to that with interviewees sometimes.
In this case, I hoped it meant she was becoming a bit more at ease.
“No, of course not. I don’t have a job.” I’d never heard “job” come
out in two syllables before. “I’m on the board of several
philanthropic organizations. And it was Christmastime, just when we
all have our end-of-the- year banquets.”
    I started to worry that her story wasn’t
going to play well with our viewers. “Okay, so tell me about your
hair experience.”
    “ Well.” She tugged at her
short brown skirt and shifted her weight from one cheek to the
other as she settled herself to talk. “Do you have anything to
drink? Bottled water, perhaps?”
    She was definitely more at ease now.
    “ Of course. Sorry, I wasn’t
thinking,” I said as I hit the intercom button on my phone and
asked Jordan if she could oblige.
    “ As I was
saying … Bethany was off, gone for at least three months, and I was
more than a little skittish about trusting my hair to someone else.
I’d been with Bethany for about five years, and she knew my hair. Knew it
like she knew her own. And when you find a designer like that, it’s
like finding gold. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
    I felt her glance take in my straight,
though recently highlighted tresses.
    I didn’t want to go
down that road,
so I just nodded. “So, what happened?”
    “ They assigned me to
Antonio.” The way she said his name made me want to laugh. She
rolled her eyes in sync with the syllables as she drew them out,
long and melodiously. “Highly recommended. Their top designer. Some
stylist. He was an ass. A pompous ass.”
    I had another appointment at ten-thirty. I
knew I should push Wilda to get to the nitty gritty, but she’d
warmed to the subject and I get so much more information when a
subject tells me their story in their own way.
    “ First off, he gives a
look, like I’m the bride of Frankenstein, or something. And he
tells me my color is all wrong for my face. That Bethany was a nice
girl but she didn’t have an eye for color. That if I followed his
advice, I’d look ten years younger.
    “ I didn’t like the way he
talked about Bethany, but he told me that he’d just come from a
seminar that introduced him to all new procedures, things that
other