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Goldie braced the pad against her palm and wrote as she spoke. “Soft foam rollers. Medium size. Two packs should be plenty.”

Sienna leaned close enough to watch every word appear.

“Your hair should only be slightly damp when you put them in tonight,” Goldie continued. “If it’s wet enough to drip, it’s too wet. Sleep in the rollers, take them out in the morning, and use your fingers to separate the curls instead of brushing through them.”

She tore off the page and handed it to me.

Before I could fold it, Sienna lifted the Fall Fest flyer she was still carrying. “What about the temporary hair color tomorrow? Is that hard to wash out?”

“It depends on the product.” Goldie glanced at the flyer. “Some of the temporary colors are designed to come out with one shampoo. Others can hang around longer.”

I looked from the flyer to Goldie. “What should I check before I tell her she can use it?”

“The age guidance and the removal instructions on the package,” Goldie said. “When I book a station like that, I ask to see the actual products. ‘Temporary color’ on a sign doesn’t tell you much. Lori should be able to check the directions with whoever’s applying it. And if you’re not comfortable with what they have, a colored clip-in might give Sienna the same look without putting anything on her hair.”

Sienna drew a thin section of hair over her shoulder and held it against her sweater. “I was thinking purple, just on this part. I don’t want my whole head to be purple.”

I’d pictured her coming home with dye worked into every strand. She was showing me a piece she could hide behind her ear.

“Find the product information when we look at the website tonight,” I told her. “You can show me what you have in mind.”

She let the hair fall and laid her flyer on the narrow table beside the door. “I’ll check the pictures again too. I need to get my shoes before we go.”

Sienna hurried down the hall, her socks slipping a little when she rounded the corner. A drawer opened in her room. Goldie set the notepad and pen beside the flyer, and I folded the shopping list into my pocket.

The foyer had grown dimmer beyond the pool of light over the entry table. Through the window beside the door, the porch railing cut a dark line across the thinning afternoon. I stayed where I was, near enough to Goldie that I could see the small creases in the corners of her eyes when she looked down the hall.

“Every time I think I’ve caught up with what she’s interested in, there’s something else,” I said. “I hadn’t even heard about that makeup table until today.”

“She came prepared to explain it to you.” Goldie rested a hand on the edge of the table. “She checked the age limit and made sure you knew an adult would be staying. I think she’d like some credit for that.”

I could hear Sienna moving things around in her room, followed by the thump of a shoe hitting the floor. She’d been sending me information all afternoon. I’d read it, but I’d spent more time looking for a reason to object than considering the little streak of purple she’d just shown me.

“I don’t want her trying something because her friends say she should,” I said.

“She seems to want you to help her choose,” Goldie said. “She kept showing you the flyer. You could ask her what she likes about the things she’s picked. I can explain what an activity involves, but you’re the one who knows whether she’ll enjoy it.”

I’d been braiding Sienna’s hair for school for years. She could do most of it herself now, and lately she’d been bringing me pictures of styles I didn’t know how to help her achieve. The list in my pocket meant we could try one tonight instead of putting it off again.

“That would help,” I admitted. “Especially when I don’t know enough about something to give her a useful answer.”

Goldie looked back at me. “Then let’s make a trade. I’ll help you sort through the fall and Halloween things she’s interested in, and I’ll help with the hair, costumes, or creative projects you approve. You help me salvage the specialty effects at the Factory.”

She left the offer there. Outside, the wind dragged a loose twig along the porch boards while I considered the woman standing in my foyer, still in her coat, offering something I hadn’t known to ask for when I’d opened the door.

“Sienna still comes to me for permission,” I said. “You can explain the options and help her with things I’ve approved. But I need to know you won’t promise her something first and leave me to be the one who takes it away.”

“I won’t make promises or give her permission behind your back. Anything new comes to you.” Goldie’s voice stayed as matter-of-fact as it had been when she’d explained the rollers. “I’m offering help, Duncan. You’re still her dad.”

There was still the other half of the bargain to settle. I’d heard enough about the Factory from Lisa to know how easily an assessment could become an entire weekend of trying to keep everything running.

“I’ll assess the mechanisms. I’ll repair what’s worth repairing, and I’ll rebuild or adapt a few pieces if there’s time to do them properly. Your crew can do the work I show them how to do safely. I’m not rebuilding the whole attraction, and this isn’t me taking up my old career again.”

From Sienna’s room came the sound of a drawer sliding shut. I lowered my voice enough that she wouldn’t hear the rest.

“If something can’t be ready for opening, I’m going to tell you that. Even if it’s the effect you wanted most.”

“Then I’ll change the scene.” Goldie stayed close to the table, her coat brushing its edge as she turned toward me. “I need the effects we use to survive two nights of guests. If the choice is a reliable fixed piece or a beautiful moving one that fails halfway through the first group, I’ll take the fixed piece and put a performer where the movement should have been.”