Flirting with Fireworks. Teresa Carpenter
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Keeping life on track meant keeping his loved ones safe.
He set the picture down, pulled the door half-closed and made his way down the hall to his room.
He dated, more out of expedience than for romance. But the women knew the score, and he had no desire for entanglements. Especially not a sultry brunette with a talent for riling his temper. And for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
Just to prove her wrong, he went to the nightstand to the right of his bed, and lifted it away from the wall. Fully prepared to find nothing.
Almost hoping to find nothing.
No such luck. Gold sparkled against the dark blue carpeting.
Bending, he scooped up his wedding ring, flung in guilty rage the first night he went out with another woman and had more than dinner with her. He’d gotten over the guilt of living when Diane died. Yet losing the symbol of their love had stuck with him.
Finding the ring helped.
Being attracted to the sexy gypsy that helped him find it was another thing altogether.
Two days later, after making arrangements for Carlo Fuentes to drive her rig into Blossom when the troupe came to town in a few days, Cherry walked into the Cut N Curl.
No better place to jump into the thick of things in a small town than the local beauty parlor.
The bell over the door jingled. Orange, yellow and pink bright enough to require sunglasses greeted her along with a cheerful hello from a tiny woman with a big voice and big hair the same color as the orange seats.
“Welcome to the Cut N Curl. I’m Wanda Mae.” A blast of hairspray accompanied her words.
“Do you take walk-ins?” Cherry asked. As she’d hoped, the place was packed with women in the process of beautifying themselves.
“Well, of course we do. Hang on just a sec.”
Cherry took a seat and absorbed the scene. Besides Wanda Mae, two other women worked on hair while another three did nails. A posted sign advertised everything from waxing to tattooing.
Tattooing? My, my, weren’t they progressive in Blossom?
Wanda Mae whipped the protective cover from the lap of her customer, an older woman with decidedly pink hair piled into a helmet of curls. “All done, Miss Ellie. You’re all set to turn Big Al’s eye at bingo tonight.”
The woman had to be close to eighty, yet she twittered like a teenager. “Do you have any of that peppermint pink lipstick? Peppermint pink drives Big Al wild.”
“’Course we do.” Wanda Mae rang up the order, then sent Miss Ellie on her way with a few wise words. “You practice safe sex, you hear?”
Progressive indeed.
Cherry bit back a grin and put in her request for a pedicure. Wanda Mae warned Cherry there was a wait, then directed her to a massage chair with a basin at the foot.
She didn’t mind waiting. It gave her a chance to observe and get acquainted. Smiling easily, she introduced herself as Lady Pandora to the woman next to her. Minnie Dressler, plump and past sixty, wore her gray hair held back by barrettes. They chatted, Cherry making sure to mention how sad she was not to be performing at the fair.
Then she sat back and opened a magazine. Sneaking a glance over the top every once in a while.
She saw suspicion, she’d expected that, but she also saw curiosity and interest in the glances sent her way.
Twenty minutes later, the whispers about her had faded away. The door opened, the bell jingled and a very pregnant blonde with a cranky toddler in tow entered the shop.
The women went into full cluck mode.
The expectant mama, Tammy, received a rush of attention. The crying baby plucked from her arms, she was helped into a seat, her feet lifted.
The toddler calmed down under the immediate barrage of attentiveness, but after being passed from woman to woman his mood began to suffer.
Cherry’s heart went out to little Jimmy. Within the troupe, she was known to have a talent for healing, for having a special touch with babies.
Some day she hoped to have a career as a midwife. She hadn’t spoken of that particular dream in a while. It upset Nona to think Cherry hesitated because of her. In truth Nona was only part of the problem. Cowardice accounted for the other part.
Cherry preferred not to dwell on either.
She longed to cuddle Jimmy, to ease his distress, but felt that would be pressing her luck.
He had other ideas. He looked at Cherry from the lap of her neighbor, his brown eyes dewy with tears. She smiled at him, and he slid down to stand in front of Cherry.
“Hello, Jimmy.” He had fine blond hair and couldn’t be more than eighteen months old. She leaned forward. “My name is Cherry.”
He tugged a lock of her hair. “Pretty.”
“Thank you.” She carefully removed her hair from his chubby little fist.
“Up.” Jimmy held his arms up.
Cherry’s heart melted. She met his mother’s gaze. “May I?” she asked. “I’m good with kids, and I’d like to help.”
Tammy studied her for a moment, then nodded.
Smiling gently, Cherry lifted the boy into her lap. He immediately went exploring. He pulled her earrings, fiddled with her watch and the crystals in her bracelet. She did enjoy her baubles.
Eventually, he laid his head on her shoulder and fell asleep.
“Poor little tyke, he’s tuckered out.” Wanda Mae started the water in the whirlpool. “Do you want the massage? I recommend level three.” She winked. “We call it the Erogenous Zone.”
Mmm. Sounded tempting. Her erogenous zones could certainly use some attention. Now why did that bring to mind the dark hair and blue-gray eyes of Jason Strong?
“I’d better not. It might disturb Jimmy.”
“Oh, Miss Pandora.” Tammy pushed to her feet. “You need to do the massage. I’ll take Jimmy.” She arched her back.
She stood close and Cherry felt her tension, her exhaustion, her pain. More, Cherry felt the baby’s readiness to be born. Tomorrow morning, Tammy would be holding her little girl in her arms.
Tammy reached for Jimmy. “I’m just glad he got a bit of a nap.”
Cherry waved her away. “He’s fine. Let him sleep. Have a manicure. It’ll be a while before you get another chance.”
Both Tammy and Wanda Mae gave Cherry odd looks.
She simply smiled serenely. “Trust me, when it comes to predicting births, I’m never wrong.”
Not at this anyway. She always knew when an expectant mother would deliver. Even as she appreciated the gift, she recognized the cosmic joke. She’d lost her mother because she’d gone into labor in the middle of nowhere. Cherry had not come easily into the world. By the time they got her mother to Blossom, it was too late to save her.
Yet her daughter had the talent to make sure the same thing never happened to anyone she knew.
To Tammy, Cherry said, “You’d better pack your suitcase when you get home because you’re going into the hospital tonight.”
The announcement shook the rafters. Everyone started talking at once. “Cherry, you need to ante up for the baby pool,” someone suggested.
“What’s the pool up to?” Cherry didn’t believe in using her talents to gamble, but if she won, the word of mouth would really help her cause.
“Two hundred twenty-two dollars. It’s two dollars a guess. Tammy knows it’s another boy, so you just