“Have you heard?” Polly took her by the arm and whispered as they walked down the hall to the conference room.
“No.” She really hoped that Don had baked something delicious for them to eat, because she was hungry.
“Margie is not a natural red head.”
Seeing as how Margie was in her eighties, that was not difficult to believe. “I’ve seen her get her hair dyed at the salon.”
“I know.” Polly’s voice dropped even lower. “But before she went white, her natural hair color was light brown.”
She stared at Winnie, waiting for it to settle in. Margie loved to talk about how she had bright red hair growing up, and she couldn’t bear to part with it. Many of her stories involved how long and luxurious it had been, and how it had been the first feature her late-husband had fallen in love with.
Winnie scrunched her nose. “Why would anyone start a rumor like that? She had red hair.”
“No. She didn’t.” Polly showed Winnie a picture of a young mother with light brown hair on her phone. She looked a lot like Margie, but it didn’t necessarily mean it was her. But Polly swiped her screen to another picture, this one clearly Margie with light brown hair.
“Maybe she dyed it light brown when she was younger,” Winnie said. But Margie claimed that dye had never touched her hair until she went completely white. “Where did you get these pictures?”
“Someone pinned them to the socials bulletin board.” The socials bulletin board was where all the activities for the week were posted.
“Who would do that?”
“No one knows. Samantha took them down, but I got a picture first.”
“Why would someone target her?” Winnie asked.
“It’s not just her.” She swiped again to reveal a picture of a printed list of at least ten names, along with natural hair colors beside it.
“My name is on there,” Polly said. “But I don’t care if everyone knows I dye my hair black.”
Winnie studied the list, not surprised by any of the names. At least half the women at The Palms dyed their hair. Some liked to pretend it was their natural color, but it was like one of those well-known secrets. Of course their hair wasn’t naturally platinum blond, but what was the harm in pretending?
“Weird,” Winnie said.
“Right?” Polly chuckled. “It makes you wonder what other secrets people are keeping.”
“Are you talking about the list?” Rosa sidled up to them. “I just heard about it. And this, after the whole age thing.”
“What age thing?”
Both women looked at Winnie incredulously. “Lorin lying about his age? Being twenty years older than his wife?” Polly said.
“News to me.” Wedding sewing and matchmaking had kept her extremely busy these days.
“It makes me wonder who’s spilling all the coffee,” Rosa said.
“It’s tea,” Polly corrected.
“But I don’t like tea,” Rosa argued.
“Yes, but the phrase the kids say is spilling thetea.”
Rosa let out an irritated huff. “Whatever people are spilling, I wonder if there’s more.”
“And who’s next.” Polly squeezed her arm before they went into the conference room, Winnie frozen in place.
Chapter 17
"Nothing is impossible to a determined woman." —Louisa May Alcott
