Texan for the Holidays. Victoria Chancellor

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СКАЧАТЬ Monday, though, she was having her car repaired and getting back on the road to L.A.—come hell, high water or Christmas parades.

      LATER THAT DAY, Scarlett stood on the front steps of Clarissa’s House of Style and watched the Brody’s Crossing Christmas parade pass by. So far she’d seen little girls in red tights and sequined leotards twirling their batons; cute little cowboys leading saddled pinto ponies; the high school marching band belting out a stirring rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”; and a beautiful vintage Thunderbird with the mayor of Brody’s Crossing, a surprisingly young, pretty blonde who waved like a beauty queen. She’d probably been a holiday princess a few years back, Scarlett theorized as she huddled in her hoodie.

      And now, the holiday princess float came into view, pulled by a man in a Santa suit driving the McCaskie’s Service Station tow truck. That must be Claude, former Santa and absent mechanic. Darn him for being so civic minded. Her poor car was dead and Claude didn’t care.

      Scarlett shook her head to clear the negative thoughts. The float appeared to be a flatbed trailer of some type wrapped in white paper and fluffy imitation snow. Blue snowflakes and hand-painted candies adorned the sides. Above, the princesses waved and smiled to the crowd lining the street, their fake-fur-trimmed white dresses blowing in the breeze. There was even a hint of sparkly blue eyeshadow.

      Scarlett smiled and waved at Ashley Desmond, whose hair she’d worked on this afternoon. She looked wonderful in her loosely twisted curls. Ashley smiled back, and Scarlett hugged her arms around herself, pleased that although she was stranded in middle America, she’d made a small difference today.

      At least Ashley appeared age-appropriate, in a style suited for her face and stature. She had her own “look,” which was just about the most important asset a teenage girl could possess. After all, not everyone was the same, inside and out.

      Scarlett wished her parents and siblings understood her point of view, but they thought everyone should be satisfied to model their virtues—namely, success, stability and respectability.

      Well, she didn’t want to be a banker or a doctor or a lawyer, then marry well, produce two or three children on a timetable, and live in the suburbs. She wanted to see the world, meet interesting individuals and be appreciated for her talent with hair.

      As the holiday princess float moved slowly down the street, Scarlett hoped the teenager would pursue her own dreams, wherever they led her. Even if you sometimes landed halfway to where you were going.

      ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON, after Scarlett had slept as long as possible on the slightly lumpy sofa bed in the back room of the salon, Clarissa surprised her. The cheerful blonde bustled into the shop, bringing some cold wind and a whiff of the season. Someone must be cutting evergreen branches, Scarlett thought, as Clarissa placed her purse on the counter.

      “I’m going to the drugstore down in Graham, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to get out.”

      “I might need some things, depending on how long I’m going to be here.”

      “I imagine it’s going to be a few days, and I don’t mind saying, I’m glad. I’m really happy for your help, Scarlett.”

      A feeling of warmth flowed through her, but then reality hit. Scarlett didn’t want to feel wanted here in Texas. That was the whole point of leaving Georgia—she needed to get to L.A. She’d come to the realization that even if Claude towed her car later today, it wouldn’t be fixed immediately.

      “Let me get my shoes on and fluff my hair, and I’ll be ready to go.”

      Clarissa drove them to Graham, where they shopped at a chain drugstore. Graham was quite a bit larger than Brody’s Crossing.

      “Why don’t you come to the community center with me?” Clarissa asked as they drove back to town. “We’re putting together some gift bags for the children’s Christmas party next Saturday.”

      “Oh, I don’t think—”

      “We’d love the help.”

      Scarlett didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the trade-off of the free room and even the trip to the store, but she didn’t want to get pulled into the activities of the town, even if the idea of spending time with other people was far more appealing than sitting alone. Today it would be gift baskets, then tomorrow something else, until she was committed to serving as Santa’s elf on Christmas Eve!

      “I really appreciate it, Clarissa, but I’ll pass. I…I won’t be here long enough to get involved.”

      Clarissa seemed surprised, glancing away from the road just a moment. Then she said, “Well, if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just thought you might rather be over there than all by yourself.”

      “I’ll catch up on my reading. And if you need anything done at the shop—inventory, cleaning, stocking—just let me know.”

      “Oh, we’re fine. If you change your mind, the community center is just two blocks away. Ask anyone for directions.”

      “Sure.” But Scarlett knew she wasn’t going to the center on Sunday afternoon. Doing hair was one thing, but packing gift baskets was way too friendly for someone just passing through.

      “I WANT TO SUE THAT NEW hairdresser at Clarissa’s House of Style,” the voice coming from the reception area insisted. “That red-haired, young, weird-looking one that just got into town.” The rather unpleasant, strident tones were directed at James’s mother, who worked part-time as his receptionist.

      “What happened, Delores? I didn’t know Clarissa had hired a new hairdresser,” James heard his mother ask.

      “She’s a menace! This was the first time Ashley was a holiday princess, and her parade was ruined!”

      “Ruined? That’s just terrible.”

      Don’t encourage her, Mom, James thought as he pushed away from his desk and walked toward the reception area. His mother was too sympathetic to be a good screener, but she had a big heart and people did trust her. The problem was that a few of the citizens of Brody’s Crossing had become a bit lawsuit crazy since he’d moved his practice back home last year.

      Especially whenever one of the television network “in-depth” reports featured some evil-doing, money-hungry, corporate giant who was out to get the little guy. Last week Myra Hammer had wanted to sue the grocery for selling her bruised bananas. The week before, Sam Gibson had insisted that he should sue the used car dealer in Graham because the pickup he’d just bought had a blowout, so obviously the tire was defective.

      The citizens of Brody’s Crossing did not need encouragement in the lawsuit department.

      “Hello, Mrs. Desmond.” Demanding Desmond. That’s what everyone called her behind her back. Not him, but he’d heard waitresses, clerks and other workers complain. So far, though, no one had tried to sue her for unreasonable demands or poor tips. “What’s the problem?”

      “As I was telling your mother, that new red-haired hairdresser at Clarissa’s ruined my daughter’s hair for the holiday princess float and lunch at the community center.”

      “When you say ruined, do you mean permanently?”

      “No! But you know how СКАЧАТЬ