Claire had been in a hair salon three times in her adult life, only when her hair would get too long to control and she needed a couple of inches taken off. She went to Mavis Adler’s Salon of Style on the highway. Mavis used to make special house calls to cut Claire’s grandmother’s hair, and if Mavis was good enough for her grandmother, she was good enough for Claire.

Claire didn’t consider herself a rube, and she’d passed by the White Door countless times, but when she walked in and found leather couches and original artwork and a gaggle of some of the more wealthy women in town, some of whom she’d catered brunches, lunches, and teas for, she suddenly felt frighteningly out of place.

She spotted Sydney in the back, sweeping hair from around another stylist’s chair, looking beautiful and self-contained. She looked so alone, which was all well and good for Claire, but not for Sydney.

Sydney saw her and immediately walked to the reception area. “Claire, what’s wrong? Where’s Bay? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. I asked Evanelle to watch her for an hour or two.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to cut my hair.”

A crowd of stylists and patrons gathered around Sydney and Claire. Rebecca, the owner of the White Door, stood like an instructor, waiting for Sydney to begin. Whispers of Claire’s beautiful long hair and Sydney’s untested abilities floated around like dust motes.

“Do you trust me?” Sydney asked as she pumped up the chair after she’d washed Claire’s hair.

Claire met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “Yes,” she said.

Sydney turned her around, away from the mirror.

Over the next few minutes, Claire’s hair felt lighter and lighter as wet chunks of dark hair fell onto the smock she was wearing, looking like thin strips of molasses candy. Every so often, Rebecca would ask Sydney a question and Sydney would answer confidently, using words like beveled cut and wisps of bangs. Claire didn’t understand what it meant. It made her think of bevel-cut crystal bowls and wisps of steam rising from curried rice.

When Sydney finally turned the chair back around, the people around her applauded.

Claire couldn’t believe what she saw. Sydney had taken off at least twelve inches of length. The cut angled down so that it was longer in the front, but high and full in the back. The thin bangs made Claire’s eyes look beautiful and sparkling, not flat and judgmental. There in the mirror was someone who looked like Claire had always wanted to be.

Sydney didn’t ask her if she liked it. There was no question. It was a transformation performed by a master. Everyone was looking at Sydney with such awe, and Sydney was shining like polished silver.