The Liar

“What you do,” she continued, “is work in short strokes, with the grain of the hair. Then, if you want a good, close shave like I’m giving you today, you go back again, against the grain.” Gently, with her thumb, she pulled the skin under his sideburn tight. “Don’t feel much pressure, right? Gotta let the blade do the work. If you need pressure, you need a sharper blade.”

She worked methodically, keeping up a flow of words. He relaxed, mostly, even when he felt the blade against his throat.

“Are you aiming to marry my girl, Griffin?”

He opened his eyes, looked up into hers. He saw amusement in hers. “As soon as she’s ready.”

“That’s a fine answer. I taught her to shave a man.”

“Really?”

“She might be out of practice, but she had a good hand with it. And speaking of that, here she comes.”

He was afraid to move, could only shift his eyes. He heard the dog scramble up, heard her voice. Heard her laugh.

“Fathoms deep,” Viola murmured. “That’s what the poets say. You’re fathoms deep, Griffin.”

“And still sinking.”

“Well, look at this! I didn’t know you went for the barbershop shave, Griff.”

“It’s my first.”

Shelby stroked two fingers over his left cheek. “Mmmm. Smooth as it gets.”

“Foreplay,” Viola said again, and had Shelby snickering.

“It does make you think, doesn’t it? Granny, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I got an SOS from the hotel as it seems Miz Bitsy took herself up there even after she promised she wouldn’t. Now I have to put out a couple little fires before she gets them blazing.”

“You go right on. I told you to take the day off.”

“I thought she’d be busy right in here. She’s got appointments, for hair and nails. I’ve got to get her out of the way, smooth things down and be back here in less than a half hour to get the girls. I promised I’d take them to Story Time, and Tracey’s got plans. Miz Suzannah’s got a dentist appointment. I can’t let Miz Bitsy have her head up there right now, and I don’t want to disappoint Callie and Chelsea.”

“I’ll do it.”

Shelby gave Griff’s shoulder a pat before she hurried to the front counter for her purse. “I don’t doubt you’re good at putting out fires, but—”

“No, not Miz Bitsy. I’ll pick up the kids, take them to Story Time.”

As with the puppy, this generated a chorus of awws from bystanders.

“Griff, I’m talking about two four-year-olds.”

“I got that.”

“And don’t you have work?”

“Matt took off—he and Emma Kate were able to grab an appointment to look at this place for the wedding.”

“What place?”

“I don’t know. Some wedding place. I’ve done about all I can do on my own till about three, when we’ve got some more material coming in.”

“I’m supposed to have the girls over at Miz Suzannah’s at around three. They’re having a sleepover.”

“There you go. I’ll pick them up, take them to Story Time. We can kick around in the park or something for an hour, whatever, if you’re not back. I’ll drop them off, and be back when the material gets here.

“You can take my truck. I’ll take your van.”

“I’m not sure if Tracey would feel right about you taking the girls.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine, Shelby.” Viola flicked that idea away. “She’s a sensible girl, she knows Griff, and she knows you’ve got your plate full today.”

“You’re right. My head’s already spinning.” She dug her keys out of her purse pocket. “Thank you, Griff. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. If you’re not back by three, I’ll just give Callie a nail gun, give Chelsea a skill saw. It’ll keep them busy.”

“You’re a comfort to me.”

“Keys are in my right front pocket.”

She arched her eyebrows. “You just want my hand in your pocket.”

“Didn’t know it was an option when I put the keys there, but it’s a nice one.”

She slid her hand in, hooked the keys. “Thank you,” she said again, kissed him, said mmmm again. “Y’all pray for me,” she called out as she hurried for the door.

•   •   •

GRIFF SETTLED DOWN at Rendezvous Books, where apparently Story Time for the preschool set happened once a month. And who didn’t like Story Time? he asked himself, leaning against one of the stacks with a glass of iced coffee while about a dozen pint-sizers sat in a circle, listening to a story about a young boy and a young dragon with an injured wing.

He knew Miz Darlene—a retired schoolteacher who worked part-time at the bookstore. He and Matt had put a small addition on her house the previous fall, giving her a cozy reading room.

She deserved one, he thought. She read really, really well, doing voices, adding just the right elements of sorrow, joy, surprise and wonder.

She had the kids in the palm of her hand. And he was pretty interested in what was happening with Thaddeus and his dragon Grommel himself.

From somewhere deeper in the store, a baby began to cry. He could hear a woman’s voice softly soothing, then the sound of her steps as she walked, back and forth, back and forth, and the crying stopped.

Sunlight streamed in the front window, through the glass panes of the front door, falling in square patterns of light on the old wood floor.