‘Especially when it turns out that we have the same romantic woes. Her diary says that she found herself torn between two men for years. The son of a wealthy business owner and her childhood sweetheart.’
‘Who did she choose?’ asked Pandora, twisting a towel around my hair and rolling me back towards the mirrors.
‘I don’t know,’ I said with a groan. ‘She just stopped writing her diary right when she started getting to the good bit. And there’s no record of a marriage or anything like that. And the other pair of initials is scratched out on the Heart Tree.’
‘Ah,’ said Pandora. ‘I know the set you mean. JL.’
I smiled. ‘We call her J.Lo. But it turns out she was Josephine. Josephine Lovell?’
I said it like a question, in case the name was familiar to Pandora. But she shook her head.
I hesitated. I hadn’t confessed this to anyone else yet, but Pandora had magic. She’d understand.
‘But I think she’s talking to me through the diary,’ I said. ‘Last night, some text showed up on the blank pages, like she was writing to me.’
Pandora considered this. ‘Maybe you should try writing back.’
‘That is … actually really good advice.’ Who needed a therapist when you had a witchy hairdresser?
Pandora winked. ‘I’m not just a beautifully made-up face.’
Wrapping a cape around my shoulders, she pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket, then tapped the handles to her cheek as she considered.
‘So, do you trust me to work my magic?’ she asked, shaking out my hair, which was already starting to look better.
I trusted Pandora’s perspective more than I trusted mine, that was for sure. Long, short, curly, straight, side part, centre part, long layers or a shag – they all sounded equally appealing to me right now.
If only I could have someone make all of my decisions for me. Namely, the Finn and Noah decision.
And my next coffee order, if I were being honest.
Pandora went to work, snipping away with a practised hand. We chit-chatted about the Summerween Festival, Pandora’s plans for a trip to the West Coast, and an article of mine on an up-and-coming baseball player that Pandora had read via the monthly newsletter we emailed out.
‘I don’t even follow sports,’ she said. ‘But Soraya is a huge fan of yours, especially after the write-up you did for Ernie. Every time you have an article come out, she texts it to everyone to read.’
I blushed, feeling flattered that my work had such a cult following in Whisperwind Cove. Especially since I only spent a month or so here each year.
Then I swallowed, thinking about the offer Lara had dangled in front of me. While hiding in my bedroom this morning, I’d read over the job description she’d sent, drawing in a breath when I’d seen the salary and benefits. It ticked so many boxes that my current role atEasterly Sportsdidn’t – a living wage, for one – but would it reach people in the sameway? I couldn’t imagine anyone laminating a PR piece and putting it up on their wall. Or sharing an ad campaign across an email chain.
But I owed it to myself to move up, didn’t I? Lara certainly seemed to think so. And Mom and Tiff had been clear about what they thought.
The cat at the door meowed, and I turned. There at the door was Noah Tucker. From the look on his face, he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I glanced in the mirror, then winced. Even with the help of Pandora’s ultra-flattering mirrors, I was still at the drowned rat stage of my haircut. Haircuts were like doing a deep clean of your house: everything got worse before it got better.
But drowned rat was better than giant magical puffball. Especially since it meant that I didn’t have to explain said giant magical puffball situation to Noah, and how he just might have been behind it.
‘Noah!’ said Pandora warmly. ‘Why don’t you take a seat over on the chaise. Molly and I are just finishing up.’
My ring crackled on my finger, growing so hot that I almost tried to yank it off. Every time I snuck a look at Noah in the mirrors, I realized that he was looking right back at me. With each look, my cheeks grew redder and redder, until I was a veritable fire engine beneath the drowned ratness of my half-finished haircut.
Had Noah always been so handsome? It was a thought I kept having, and I couldn’t quite figure out the answer. Either he’d changed, or I had, because there was something to the intensity of his dark eyes and the way he held himself that utterly fascinated me.
Even though I’d agreed to go on a date with Finn.
Although Ihadn’tgone on the date in the end, had I? I’d cooked dinner with Noah instead, even if that had mostly been because I’d been trying to do something nice for Rosie. But still, on some level, I’d chosen Noah.
Until I’d gone running into the house with Finn, anyway.
Why was this so difficult?
