The Liar

Here was art and pretty things as well, a sweet chair with curvy legs done in deep blue, and a wonderful old desk refinished so the oak shone gold. A vase of red roses and baby’s breath stood on it, along with a computer and a phone.

It took her only a moment to focus in on the woman behind the desk—and understand the abrupt change in the clerk’s demeanor.

“Why, hello, Melody. I had no idea you worked here.”

“I manage the gallery. My grandmama bought it just about a year ago and asked me to get it in shape for her.”

“Well, from what I see, you’ve done a wonderful job of it.”

“Thank you. You have to do what you can for family, don’t you? And look at you.” She rose then, a curvy woman in a fitted dress of rosy pink. Her blond hair fell in a long, soft wave to her shoulders, sweeping around a heart-shaped face with poreless skin glowing from an expert hand with bronzer or a good self-tanner.

Shelby knew Melody would never expose her face to the sun and risk lines and spots.

Her eyes, a chilly blue, flicked over Shelby as she walked over, moved in for a cheek bump.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you! My goodness, this humidity that’s moving in must play havoc with your hair.”

“It helps to have easy access to good salon products.” Yours could use a root touch-up, she thought, as no one made her hackles prickle faster than Melody Bunker.

“I’m sure it does. I heard you were back. It’s just tragic about your husband, Shelby. Just tragic. You have all my sympathy.”

“Thank you, Melody.”

“And back where you started now, aren’t you? Living back with your mama, aren’t you? Oh, please, have a seat.” Melody leaned a hip back on the desk, holding the higher ground, the position of power. “And how are you, Shelby?”

“I’m fine. I’m happy to be home again. How’s your mama, Melody?”

“Oh, she’s doing fine. We’re going to Memphis in a couple weeks, having a few days, doing some shopping, staying at the Peabody, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You know how hard it is to find decent clothes around here, so we try to get into Memphis every season. I have to admit, I never thought to see you back in the Ridge, but being a widow, you must need the comfort of family.”

“They are a comfort.”

“But I sure was surprised when Kelly came up and said you were downstairs and asking about work, what with all the talk about how well off you were, landing yourself a rich husband. And you have a daughter, don’t you?”

Those blue eyes sparkled now, but it wasn’t with friendship or camaraderie. “Some say that helped with the landing.”

“I’m sure they do, as some will say all manner of unattractive things just to hear their own voice. I’d like to work,” Shelby said simply.

“I’d sure like to help you out, Shelby, but working here at The Artful Ridge takes certain requirements. I don’t suppose you’ve ever worked a cash register in your life.”

Melody knew very well she had, at the salon.

“I ran one since I was fourteen, weekends and summers at my grandmother’s salon. I was assistant manager of the bookstore in college—University of Memphis, if you can’t recall. That was a few years ago, but I’m sure I could get references if you need them. I know how to work a register, a computer, I know most of the basic softwares.”

“A family beauty parlor and a college bookstore don’t give you much of a foundation for an upscale showplace of arts and crafts. And do you know how to sell? Working a bookstore in college? Why, that sort of thing sells itself, doesn’t it? We carry a superior range of art, a lot of it exclusive to us. We’re a landmark in this town now. In the county, come to that. And we’ve got a reputation.”

“I’m sure the reputation’s earned, considering what you showcase here, and how you display it. Though I’d have taken those cane-back chairs from the front and put them at that burl wood table in the back, done something interesting on the table with the pottery dishes and some wineglasses, some of the textiles.”

“Oh, would you?”

She only smiled at the frigid tone. “I would, but that’s me. And I can say so because you don’t have any intention of giving me a job.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

With a nod, Shelby rose. “That’s your loss, Melody, because I’d have been an asset to your grandmother’s business here. I appreciate the time.”

“Why don’t you go over to Vi’s? I’m sure your grandmother could find you work there, suited to your skills and experience. She has to need someone sweeping up and washing out the sinks.”

“You think that’s beneath me?” Shelby angled her head. “I’m not surprised, Melody, not at all surprised. You haven’t changed since high school, and still holding a grudge because they put that Homecoming crown on my head instead of yours. That’s awful sad. It’s just awful sad your life hasn’t gotten any richer or more satisfying since high school.”

She walked out, head up, started down.

“I was second-runner-up Miss Tennessee!”

Shelby glanced back, smiled at Melody, who stood, hands on hips, at the top of the stairs. “Bless your heart,” she said, and continued down, and straight out.