“Oh, you’d look cute with a perm!” Margaret blurted out with enthusiasm.
“I’m not looking for ‘cute.’ I want chic. Cool.”
“Aren’t you getting a bit old for cool?” Margaret, the fifty year old, goaded her.
“And cute is okay?” Theresa grimaced. “Let’s go inside and see what a professional recommends.”
When they entered the salon, a tall, soft-spoken Vietnamese gentleman greeted them. “Welcome to Victoria Salon. I am Leo. How can I help you?”
Theresa and Margaret were impressed by the calm nature of the place. The space was divided into sections depending on the service you wanted. Softly lit signs hung over different archways:The Color Bar, The Clip Joint, andLet’s ‘Do’ It. All the sinks and dryers were also in a separate room, calledWash & Dry, so that customers didn’t have the noise of a blow-dryer in their ears the entire time of the service.
Theresa explained that she wanted to update her look. “Not too short, definitely no perm.” When he asked about the color, Theresa took it as a hint that she should also consider something different. “Nothing too extreme,” she said, then added, “but I’ll listen to suggestions.”
He showed her a few swatches of dark blond. “Will this be easy to maintain?” she asked.
“It won’t be any more difficult than what you are doing now,” Leo responded. “And we offer a client appreciation program. Every fifth service is complementary.”
Now that was an offer she couldn’t refuse. But the biggest bonus was how she looked. The dark blond pageboy bob took ten years off her face and put a new spring in her step.
Tonight six months later she had to put some juice in her caboose. Frida looked quite fit. During lunch, she told Theresa how much she loved snowshoeing and would miss her frequent jaunts. Henry played tennis when the court wasn’t melting, or he’d engage in a short round of golf. Theresa wasn’t sure who was the fittest of the three of them. She chuckled; they had twenty years on her. It was going to be a litmus test for her physical fitness, stamina, persistence, and determination. She snickered at the irony. She was going to trespass and spy on a company in the middle of the night, with a couple she had just met the same day, all for someone she never knew. This should cure any sense of boredom.
Theresa recently retired as an executive director of human resources at a telecommunications company. She started out as an assistant in the installations division, scheduling new jobs. After a few years, she moved up to higher levels of management, and eventually was put in charge of the eastern region of the company. Theresa enjoyed the work, especially guiding new employees to help them flourish in their roles and succeed.
But over the last few years, something changed. It seemed like she was dealing with spoiled adolescents. There was a different sense of ambition and drive among the new batch of employees. The complaints employees filed ranged from someone “stealing yogurt” from the refrigerator in the break room to being allergic to the toilet paper in the bathrooms. So much of it was petty. Theresa grew tired of it. She was unmotivated and started to resent the time she had to spend in the office. And it started to affect her health. She was having trouble sleeping; her diet was terrible, as she tried to drown her unhappiness with sugar and a nightly glass of wine—or three; and she was too exhausted to exercise. Brian recognized that she was miserable and encouraged her to leave her job. He said they’d be fine without her salary, and that her well-being was more important than money. Theresa resisted at first, but when she finally agreed, it was as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She decided it was time to step aside from her job and follow her bliss. The challenge was figuring out what her bliss was. That was when she decided to do something about the way she looked. Time for a refresh.
The new hairstyle and color propelled her forward. Then she joined a book club. Not a big leap, but a foray into meeting new people, reconnecting with friends. And now this adventure. Theresa was happy she took on the Aunt Dottie mission. She was doing something totally out of character, and slightly naughty. Or was it a felony?
When she finished drying her hair, she plopped on the bed and tried to fall asleep, but she was overstimulated. She knew she had to get some shut-eye. A couple of hours, at least. She started the same breathing technique she’d used earlier in her car. Her body began to relax, and she fell into a deep sleep.
She jolted upright when the phone alarm went off. She blinked several times, remembering where she was and what she was about to do. Next came a knock on her door announcing, “Room service!” Theresa shook the haze from her deep sleep, opened the door, and gladly made room for the trolley with a covered dish holding a juicy hamburger and crispy fries. Her rational mind told her it was okay to bulk up on fat and carbs, given the project ahead. If anything happened, at least she would die knowing her last meal was something she loved. After she signed the check, she noticed the indicator on her phone alerting her to a text message. It must have arrived while she was napping. It was from Lizzie.
Working on your project but info is scarce. Also have associates checking on them. Sit tight.
Theresa wondered if she should let Lizzie know about her plans to do some research on her own, with the help of her two new friends. She didn’t want to worry Lizzie; plus, it was two o’clock in the morning on the East Coast. She decided she would respond tomorrow.
Theresa splashed some water on her face to get rid of the remaining cobwebs in her head, then dove into the rare meat. She didn’t realize how hungry she was, but it had been ten hours since her last meal. She flicked on the TV to watch the local news. Nothing except more heat on the way. She stuck her head out of the sliding door that led to a small patio. It was still hot, but not sweltering. Once again, she faced the dilemma of what to wear. She decided on a pair of jeans and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt, in case crawling through bushes was required. She took another quick shower to thoroughly wake up, got dressed, and went to the lobby. The place was empty except for an older gentleman sitting at the concierge desk.
He greeted her with a smile. “Hello, miss. How can I help you?”
Theresa was happy he referred to her asmissinstead ofma’am. She noticed his name tag. “Hello, Norman. Is it possible for someone to bring my car around?”
“Where you off to this late at night?” He grinned. “Just being nosy.”
“Meeting up with some friends,” Theresa said, and smiled back. “They’re night owls.”
“Ah. As am I.” He picked up the desk phone and made a call. “It will be a few minutes. Please take a seat.” He gestured to a mission-style club chair.
“Thank you, Norman.”
“My pleasure.”
Theresa tried to control her excitement. Or was it anxiety? She had a habit of tapping her foot when she had to wait for something. Everything. It wasn’t as if she were impatient. She simply had a lot of excess energy when she was stimulated. The tapping of her foot caused an echo in the empty lobby. “Oops. Sorry.” She sheepishly grinned at Norman.
“No worries, miss. He should be here shortly.”
The lights of an SUV shone into the lobby as it rounded the porte cochere. Theresa bounced to her feet, said good night to Norman, and dashed out the door. She didn’t know why she was in such a hurry. She had well over an hour to reach her destination. Nervous energy, she supposed.
The temperature in the car was bearable. She wondered if she should punch the address into the GPS. Would it make a difference if she did? Wouldn’t the rental company have some kind of tracker on the car? She realized she was beginning to think like a criminal, then chuckled.
