LITMIR.BIZ

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the same situation right about now, too.”

      Barbara Montgomery, along with her husband, were definitely “old” Welleswood, like Judy, but they had been among the town elite for years, while Judy’s background was decidedly working class. Would the problems they were each encountering raising their grandchildren be enough to create a bond of friendship? Eager to find out, Judy shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

      “It’d be good for you. For both of you. Why don’t I stop by her shop this afternoon before I pick up Sarah from school? I’ll talk to her and tell her to stop in to see you on her way home from work. I think she finishes up at four.”

      “That’s all right. I’ll…I’ll make sure I walk over one day later this week. Today’s not really a good day for me. I’ve got to check the supplies and place an order. And somehow I wanted to find time to color my hair, so I may not even have time for lunch and still be at the Towers for the afternoon,” Judy insisted and switched on the blow-dryer to prevent Madge from arguing. Whether or not Judy would be able to find a friend in Barbara remained to be seen. Finding support or getting advice from someone else in a similar situation, however, was something she knew she really needed.

      Madge could understand the challenges Judy faced—to a point. But she had not walked a single day down the path that led to having a grown child abdicate her responsibilities as a parent or raising a grandchild or making the emotional and financial adjustments that had become a necessary part of Judy’s life. Judy did not know Barbara Montgomery very well at all, except to know they lived and worked in very different social circumstances. She suspected she might have more in common with another single working woman trying to make ends meet than she would with Barbara, who was married to a very successful CPA and owned her own business to boot.

      Judy finished styling Madge’s hair and met her gaze in the mirror. “Better?”

      Madge smiled. “Much better. Thank you. I’ll need another appointment for early October for a coloring, though. By then, you and Barbara might be friends,” she suggested.

      “Maybe,” Judy replied, but she was not nearly as certain about the prospect as Madge seemed to be. She removed the plastic cape, hiked up her slacks again and swept up while Madge left to use the ladies’ room.

      When Madge returned, she pressed a bill into Judy’s hand and took a bite out of one of the miniature sticky buns that had been in the lounge. “You take care of yourself, and don’t forget to go over to see Barbara,” she murmured and left before Judy could respond.

      She rang up the charge on the cash register and slipped the change, her tip, into her pocket. She was not surprised that Madge had tried to be so supportive, as well as generous. She was surprised, however, when Madge returned half an hour later. “I stopped to see Barbara. When I was talking to you earlier, I forgot that she closes the shop at three o’clock now that she picks up the girls after school. She said she’d have some time around one if you wanted to stop in to see her then. I know you said it was a really busy day for you, but sometimes you just have to leave one thing go because something else is more important.”

      “Like coloring my hair? Thanks a bunch.” Judy chuckled to herself and shook her head. “Do you ever leave anything undone?”

      “Of course not,” Madge teased.

      The phone rang and interrupted their banter. As soon as she answered the phone and heard Mrs. Hart’s voice, her heart sank. When the elderly woman canceled her appointment and scheduled another one with Ann later in the week, Judy tried to remain polite. She was more relieved than disappointed not to have to deal with this particular customer today, in spite of the fact that she needed everyone she could get these days.

      As soon as she hung up, she looked at Madge and shrugged her shoulders. “Mrs. Hart canceled her appointment for today, so unless someone walks in, I think you’re my only customer this morning.”

      Madge smiled sympathetically, then brightened. “Which means you can get started checking the supplies.”

      “True. And color my hair.”

      “And have time for lunch?”

      “Also true,” Judy admitted.

      “Good. I’ll pick you up at twelve. We’ll celebrate the start of the school year by having a quick lunch at The Diner, and then we’ll go to see Barbara together. I’ve been meaning to stop at the shop next door to order something for Andrea anyway. She and Bill are celebrating their second anniversary in a few weeks.”

      Lunch at The Diner, the quaint little restaurant that was one of the few businesses like Pretty Ladies that had thrived during the years when Welleswood was just another dying, suburban town, sounded wonderful. Judy’s purse, unfortunately, held barely enough to last for the week as it was, even counting Madge’s tip.

      “My treat,” Madge insisted, as if reading Judy’s mind. “I owe you lunch, remember?”

      Judy frowned. “You owe me lunch? Since when?”

      “Since September, 1986. We both went to lunch at The Diner to celebrate when Candy started her last year of high school. Remember? I’d forgotten my wallet, so you paid the bill. When I tried to repay you, you told me I could pay for both of us the next time we got together on the first day of school, which we never did because that was Candy’s last ‘first day’ of school.”

      Judy laughed. “You’re making that up. Your memory might be good, but it’s not that good.”

      Madge narrowed her gaze. “As I recall, you were a redhead back then. On that particular day, you were wondering whether or not to go blond or try frosting your hair.”

      “So you remember our conversation, too?”

      “Tell me you don’t remember what happened to your hair that very afternoon?”

      Judy opened her mouth to respond, but a memory flew out of the past. A painful memory that flashed a horrid mental image of the disaster later that afternoon that had left her with bright orange hair less than half an inch long over her entire head on the very day that Candy started her senior year. “Oh, that day?”

      “Exactly that day,” Madge insisted. She smiled and patted Judy on the shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at twelve,” she insisted. “In the meantime, stick to the inventory and if you do have time to color your hair, stick to dark brown. It’s more becoming, and it’s safer,” she teased before she left.

      Chuckling, Judy hiked up her slacks again. When she saw the tube of conditioner on the counter, her smile widened. She could give Madge the conditioner at lunch, free of charge, one friend to another. The phone rang again. “Pretty Ladies, this is Judy,” she said as she grabbed her pen to either make an appointment or change one.

      “Judy Roberts?”

      “Yes.”

      “Judy, this is Marsha, the school nurse at Park Elementary. It’s Brian. I’m afraid you need to come to the school immediately. He’s—”

      Judy dropped the phone, grabbed her purse and ran out the door, barely remembering to lock it behind her before charging down the avenue toward the school.

      Chapter Two

      T he nurse’s office at Park Elementary School smelled of alcohol and disinfectant and sported freshly painted medicine cabinets with shiny locks. There was a child in one of the four yellow plastic chairs that served as a waiting area for students sent or brought to the school nurse, who was sitting behind a metal gray desk.

      Judy shoved her visitor’s pass into her pocket and rushed straight to Brian. Ignoring the nurse, she crouched down in front of her grandson and ran the edge of her finger along one of his tearstained cheeks. “Feeling sick?” she asked, too concerned to waste time worrying about how she was going to salvage the rest of her workday.

      He shrugged and kept his gaze downcast.

      She heard the nurse approaching

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