“I’m not kidding, Libby; I know your moves.”
“Look, at the very least, let me sit under this umbrella. Redheads are not designed for Florida. Sun in May? I’m probably already blistering.”
“Ugh. You look good. Too good. You realize this is a t-shirt and flip-flop joint?”
“Thanks, and yeah, the wedges and tailored pants are overkill, no question.”
Seated across from her friend, Libby had a million things to tell and ask her, and she was ready to make her case. But seeing J.J.—different, but the same, familiar but somehow alien in this space and out of context—gave her pause.
They stopped trading barbs for a beat. Libby put her hand across the table and covered J.J.’s. She squeezed gently. They didn’t need to go on and on. She didn’t need to offer condolences or find words to tell her friend that she missed her or that she wanted to help. J.J. knew that.
Libby knew J.J. would feel the same if the roles were reversed. In fact, theyhad beenreversed when they first reconnected. J.J. had helped Libby figure out her second act. J.J. was the touchstone Libby needed.
But Libby knew that if she said any of those things in her heart right now, she’d start to cry, and they didn’t have time for that.
ChapterThree
J.J.
J.J. had been on the other side of this pitch. Libby was the queen of getting people to come to Irish Hills. And J.J. had been her enthusiastic sidekick.
J.J. put a hand up to try to stop the spiel before it got started.
“I know you want a salon. I’m the only one to do it. You need it fast, but you will help me.”
Libby’s eyes went wide, as if she’d never even considered the idea. “Well, do you want to open a salon?”
“No.”
“I will say, we’re all driving into Ann Arbor to get the works. Not ideal. You would be the best person to fill that niche in Irish Hills. Shelly is retired, so no worries there.”
J.J. inspected Libby’s hair. After thirty years of doing hair, old habits died hard. “Your hair is a little, well…” J.J. pointed to Libby’s gray roots. She was due. That was clear.
“I came here to talk to you instead of driving straight to the salon. That’s how serious things are.”
“Libby, I know your moves. Let’s remember, I’m not an expert in my field or an award-winning anything, okay?”
“I do not want to hear you downplay yourself.”
“It isn’t that, it’s just—” She stopped.
“You know, all of us Sandbar Sisters were from somewhere and then went out in the world. You didn’t. You have every right to explore, well, anything you want. Especially after what you went through. We all understand. We miss you. We want to be there for you, but we get it. Being away was what you needed.”
“Thank you. Yeah, I did a lot of exploring. I had to learn that I could. It was always me and Dean and the boys, and then me and Dean. I don’t think I ever rented a hotel room on my own until last year. Can you imagine?”
“So, how are you doing?”
J.J. paused.
The waitress approached, and Libby ordered. “I’ll have the Cuban also if that’s okay.”
“They’re spectacular. Best choice.”
The waitress left. And J.J. still didn’t have a good answer to Libby’s question.
“I’m okay. It comes in waves, but I hear that’s how this goes. I’ve seen everything from Times Square to a school of dolphins, so that’s something.”
“It is something!”
