My mouth pinches toward a grunt, but she’s wrong. My eyes soften and crinkle on the edges at a memory of Bran and me causing havoc in our lakeside neighborhood.
A woman with dark hair greets us. Her nose wrinkles as she looks me up and down. “Well, we have a situation, don’t we?”
Yeah, I may resemble a guy who just came ashore after weeks on a long boat, traveling from island to island, raiding and pillaging, but I bathe and don’t smell bad. At least I don’t think so.
Everly introduces me to Shonda, the resident stylist at Blancbourg.
She clutches a football...and her stomach?
I grunt in greeting.
“I was wondering if you could sign this.” She thrusts the football into my hands and then turns away.
I tense, unsure if there’s a problem.
The woman pales, looking ill.
“Are you okay? Can I do anything—?” I ask, alarmed.
She waves her hand in front of her face. “I’m fine.”
“You sure, Shonda?” Everly asks. “Water? Fresh air? Ice cream?”
Shonda approaches and then halts, swallowing thickly. “We have a real Beauty and the Beast scenario here.” Her smile makes me worry she accidentally consumed one of Declan’s mayonnaise concoctions.
I glance at Everly for a clue as to what’s going on. She barely reaches my shoulder and whereas she’s petite, I feel like an overgrown oaf. There’s no mistaking that I’m a beast andbellemeans pretty in French. Haven’t seen the movie, but Beauty and the Beast is accurate.
Shonda coughs lightly and presses her hand to her belly again. “Karma’s going to get me for that comment. No offense meant.” She rushes toward the door.
“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?” Everly asks, echoing my questions from moments before.
“I’m expecting. First trimester. This never happened with my previous pregnancies. Please, just do it. Don’t tell Cateline.” Shonda makes a scissoring motion with her two fingers and then hurries off.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“Maggie, whom I just met and who also works here, used to be a Disney princess. She was joking that I look like Belle from the movieBeauty and the Beast.”
“Never seen it.”
“No surprise there,” she says.
Still holding the football, I grunt. “I meant I was wondering why Shonda ran out. Is she ill?”
“She’s pregnant. Probably morning sickness.”
“But it’s afternoon.”
“That’s just what it’s called. It can strike any time, day or night.”
“What did Shonda want you to do?” I ask.
“Get you in a salon and you open right up, huh? Mr. Chatty, all of a sudden,” Everly says, circling me. “She wants me to give you a makeover.”
“Are you qualified?”
“My best friend Heidi is a hairstylist. I think I can manage. Let’s just say anything would be an improvement,” she mumbles the last part.
I grunt and reluctantly get in the chair, but only because my brother wouldn’t recognize me. I worry my rough appearance caused Shonda to become ill.
