The Liar

She’d been twelve, and from that point on, in charge of cutting everybody’s hair in the family, and styling the girls—her mama included—for special occasions.

When she’d been carrying her first, she’d worked for Miz Brenda, and had done some side business out of the tiny kitchen in the double-wide where she and Jackson had started out. When Grady had been born—with her still four months shy of her seventeenth birthday, she added on manicures, and worked exclusively out of the two-bedroom house they rented from Jack’s uncle Bobby.

By the time her second followed close on Grady’s heels, she squeezed in cosmetology school with her mother minding the babies.

Viola MacNee Donahue had been born ambitious, and wasn’t afraid to give her husband a few prods in the same direction.

By the time she was twenty, with three children and the loss of one that had broken off a piece of her heart she would never get back, she had her own salon—buying Brenda’s place when Brenda ran off on her own husband with a guitar player from up in Maryville.

It put them in debt, but while Viola wasn’t one to agree with the preacher saying how God would provide, she believed He’d look kindly on those who worked themselves sweaty.

She did just that, spending often eighteen hours a day on her feet while Jack worked just as hard and long at Fester’s Garage.

She had a fourth child, worked herself steadily out of debt, then dived right back into it when Jack started his own car repair and towing service. Jackson Donahue was the best mechanic in the county, and he’d been carrying most of Fester’s business as Fester was stumbling drunk by noon five days out of seven.

They made their own, raised four children, and bought a good house.

And with the nest egg Viola tucked away, she bought the old dry goods, expanded, and had the town talking when she put in three fancy pedicure chairs.

Business stayed steady enough, but if you wanted more, you figured out how to get it. Tourists wandered through the Ridge here and there, looking for quaint or cheap, or picturesque in a quieter setting than Gatlinburg or Maryville.

They came to hike and fish and camp, and some to stay in the Rendezvous Hotel and ride the white water. Those on vacation tended to be looser with their money, and more apt to take a few indulgences.

So she took the leap, expanded yet again. And yet again.

The locals called her place Vi’s, but the tourists came into Viola’s Harmony House Salon and Day Spa.

She liked the sound of it.

The latest—and, Viola claimed, the last—expansion added on what she billed a Relaxation Room, which was a fancy name for waiting area, but fancy it was. Though she enjoyed bold, rich colors, she’d kept the tones soft, added a gas-burning fireplace, banned all electronic devices, and offered specialty teas made local, spring water, deep-cushioned chairs and plush robes with her logo embroidered on them.

Since the expansion, this latest and last, had been in the works while Shelby had been moving from Atlanta to Philadelphia, Shelby hadn’t seen it all done.

She couldn’t say it surprised her when her grandmother led her through a locker room/changing area and into the room that smelled lightly of lavender.

“Granny, this is amazing.”

She kept her voice down as two women she didn’t know sat in oatmeal-colored chairs paging through glossy magazines.

“You try some jasmine tea. It’s made right here in the Ridge. And relax some before Vonnie comes to get you.”

“This is as nice as any of the spas I’ve been to. Nicer.”

Amenities included shallow dishes of sunflower seeds, a wooden bowl of sharp green apples, clear pitchers of water with inserts holding slices of lemon or cucumber, and hot pots for tea clients could drink out of pretty little cups.

“It’s you who’s amazing.”

“It’s not enough to have ideas if you just let them sit around. You come see me when Vonnie’s done with you.”

“I will. Would you . . . could you just check with Mama? I just want to be sure Callie’s behaving.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Easier said than done—or so Shelby thought, until Vonnie, who couldn’t have been more than five-three, had her on a warm table in a dim room with soft music playing.

“Girl, you’ve got enough rocks in these shoulders to build a three-story house. Take a deep breath for me now. And another. That’s the way. Let it go now.”

She tried, then she didn’t have to try. She drifted.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“What?”

“That’s a good answer. I want you to take your time getting up. I’m going to turn the lights up a little, and I’ve got your robe lying over your legs.”

“Thank you, Vonnie.”

“I’m going to tell Miz Vi you could use another next week. It’s going to take a few times to get you smoothed out, Shelby.”

“I feel smooth.”

“That’s good. Now, don’t go getting up too fast, you hear? I’m going out and get you some nice spring water. You want to drink a lot of water now.”

She drank the water, changed back into her street clothes and made her way out to the salon area.