“I’ve made a mess of my life,” I shared.

“Join the club, Amelia,” she returned instantly.

I blinked and another tear escaped down my cheek.

What was she talking about?

She was gorgeous. She was the most fashionable woman I’d ever seen. She was always turned out perfectly. She had Jake, who was nice and sweet and almost as handsome as Mickey and he was so into her, it wasn’t even funny. Her son was adopted, but he clearly adored her beyond reason. And Jake’s other two kids loved her the same way.

She had everything.

How was her life a mess?

“I didn’t always have Jake and all that he brought to me,” she announced, as if hearing my thoughts. “I didn’t always have Conner and Amber and Ethan. I didn’t always have Alyssa and Junior. I used to have next to nothing. Then,” she leaned into me, her eyes holding mine, “with a good deal of help, at long last, and when I say that, I mean for me it lasted decades, I picked up the pieces.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “You’ll note, in saying that, when I did, I did not do it alone.”

Another tear chased down my cheek.

Josie watched it then looked back at me.

“Will you give me the honor of letting me help you not go it alone?”

Without the ability to do anything else, I nodded.

She squeezed my hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t mention it,” I whispered back, the only way I’d be able to speak.

She started chuckling.

“Back!” Alyssa cried, and Josie and I both jumped, Josie straightening away from me, my eyes going to Alyssa in the mirror. “Right, bringing you back to your original beauty with threads of blonde to make it exciting, just pieces throughout this mass of gorgeousness,” she stated, dumping the two bowls she had on the counter in front of me and gently pulling the ponytail holder out, my hair falling around my shoulders. “But around your face”, she flipped my hair forward, over my shoulders, then twitched some locks by my temples, “more blonde to highlight your pretty face. Sound good?”

I had no idea. I’d never had highlights. My mom thought highlights were common.

I didn’t care.

Alyssa could do anything.

Just as long as she helped me to a new me.

“Sounds great,” I said softly.

She smiled brightly at my reflection in the mirror, straightened from me and shouted to the room at large, “Ruby! We got a mission and we need to sustain that mission so we gotta get our order from Weatherby’s. I’ll owe you a bottle of tequila, you go pick it up. Tell ’em to put it on the salon account.”

“The salon has an account?” a female voice I suspected was Ruby called back.