She’s smiling happily, clearly pleased with her handiwork.
I stand up and move over to the long mirror above the row of sinks.
From the front and side, I look a lot more professional than I did before I sat down to let my new friend style my hair.
It also doesn’t hurt one little bit. It used to, back when Colleen used to do this kind of thing for me. That was a long time ago, I guess. I’d completely forgotten about it until Katie got started.
“Oh, wait,” Katie says, picking something up from the box by her side.
She brings the mirror over and stands behind me, moving it around slowly to show me how the braid looks. It’s so pretty. Somehow, it’s perfectly woven while still being loose enough not to hurt when I move. I can’t help but be impressed.
“Wow,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she says, beaming back at me. “It looks gorgeous. I’d kill for your length. I’m too easily bored to grow my hair out that much. I wish I could do it.”
“Well, you can play with mine whenever you want,” I offer, making her eyes light up.
“Oh, awesome! I used to kind of want to be a hairdresser, but I was awful at the cutting part when I tried beauty school. Like seriously, dangerously bad. Me and scissors do not mix, trust me. And that was probably TMI. Sorry. I’m talking too much again.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “But shouldn’t we be getting back to the kitchen?”
A glance at the clock shows we aren’t quite late, exactly, but if we take any longer, we’re in danger of going past the social event’s starting time.
Katie follows my gaze and lets out a little gasp.
“Oops! Yeah. You’re right, we should get our butts in gear. Chef Harris will be prepping the appetisers by now. He’s probably wondering where his staff are since we’re not already there.”
She picks up her box of hair supplies and I move forward, opening the door for her.
We go back to the kitchen via the ballroom, Katie taking my hand once we’re outside of the ladies’ room. I can’t say I’m used to being touched this much, but it feels kind of nice, so I don’t try to pull back, even if it’s probably not normal.
It’s not like I would know much about what’s normal.
I spent my whole life inside a bubble that only recently burst.
Katie laughs as we get to the kitchen doors, looking down at her hand before letting go of mine to push the door open. “Oh, God. Sorry! That’s force of habit. Doing hair makes me think of my little sister, Cassandra. I’m so used to holding her hand when we’re together. She’s almost ten years younger than me, so I kind of go into babysitter mode when I’m around her.”
I’m about to tell her I don’t mind, when a voice calls out from inside the kitchen, capturing my attention, and making her roll her eyes, before I get the chance to speak.
“Hello, hello! Is that kitchen mice I hear?”
Chef Harris, I presume.
Katie sighs softly as she steps into the room.
“Yes, Chef. It’s Katie and Robin. Your kitchen mice are here for our late shift.”
I follow the chatty blonde, closing the heavy door softly behind me.
“Ah, good,” the middle-aged man in the chef’s whites responds, looking from Katie to me and back again. “Put your things away so you can help plate up these appetisers. The first guests will start to arrive soon, and I don’t want anyone to have to wait for food.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katie says, heading toward the locker room that exists between the kitchen and the hallway. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. No one’s going to go hungry.”
I move toward the counter while she stashes her supplies in her locker.
The chef taps his fingers on the counter, clearly waiting for Katie to get back to show us both what he needs us to do.
The pastries on the baking tray are small and elegant looking.
