“No, on the contrary. Sometimes you act all tough. But really I think you’re a lot softer than you let on. You’re kind of like that pinecone there,” he said, nuzzling her playfully. “Hard on the outside with the tender meat inside. ”
She pulled away. “Tender meat? Um, ew. ”
“Sure, nature girl. Didn’t your grandfather tell you on your walks?” He pointed to the pinecone. “You can eat those, you know. ”
She thought about those petit fours she’d had with the Kidd sisters, and their talk of how the hard shell masked the sweetness inside. She’d been told the same thing twice now. Did she really act that tough? Might she really have a tender side? She guessed both were maybe true.
People always saw just one thing with her. Commenting on how rigid she was. How disciplined. How controlling. How thin or how fit. How this, how that. So how was it Eddie Jessup saw past all that? It was unsettling but comforting, too.
“You can really eat these?” She plucked the pinecone from her dresser, and even after all these years, the hard, sharp ridges poked her. “Wouldn’t you hurt yourself?”
“No, goof. Where do you think pine nuts come from?” He pointed to the tips. “If you’re ever stuck in the woods, find a pinecone. ”
“How do you get the nuts out of there?”
“You can’t do it with your bare hands. I’ll show you sometime. ” He carefully took it and put it back in its exact place. “You deny it, but I think you really are nature girl at heart. ”
She almost said no. She wasn’t this secretly soft, nature person he was talking about, and there would be no next time besides.
But instead she heard herself say, “Yes. Show me. ”
Twenty-five
Laura sat in the chair at Claire’s Cuts studying herself in the mirror. She and her sister had taken a break from the lodge for a little personal maintenance. It’d been Sorrow’s idea, and Laura had acted resistant, but really, she didn’t mind the idea of a little prettying up. She told herself it was just for her, that she liked looking good for herself.
It certainly had nothing to do with any Jessups.
“It’d be easy to brighten it up. ” Claire ran her fingers through Laura’s freshly trimmed waves as they discussed adding some highlights. “Conceal the grays. ”
“Conceal the whats?” She spun in the chair.
“Some grays. ” Claire caught her eyes in the mirror. “Don’t worry, it’s just a few. ”
She darted her eyes to Sorrow, seated in a neighboring chair. “Can you see them?”
“Yeah. No. ” Her sister gave her an apologetic shrug. “Maybe. ”
“Damn,” she whispered as she peered at herself in the mirror. “I can’t believe you found gray hair. ”
“You should do it,” Sorrow said. “Why not?” She was in a neighboring chair where she was flipping through an old InStyle magazine. She shut it, looked at the cover, then opened it again. “Claire, this is two years old. It’s not even ‘in style’ anymore. ”
“It’s the ‘Best Of’ issue and it has Carrie Underwood on the cover. ”
Sorrow displayed the cover. “Hey, Laura, you can learn Ten Ways to Reduce Stress. ”
She was still stuck on the gray hair sighting and shot back, “How come you don’t have any gray?”
“There’s not a lot,” the stylist said reassuringly.
“I didn’t even see it till she pointed it out. ” Sorrow traded the InStyle for a more recent Us Weekly. “This is more like it. ”
Claire riffled through her hair, bouncing it in her palms. “My advice? We take the highlights up a bit, but”—she put her hands on her shoulders to stress her point—“then you need to relax more. That’s the only thing that’ll stop the premature aging. ”
She slouched in her chair, grumbling. “Premature aging. ”
Sorrow held up a photo spread. “Hey, ladies, who wore it better?”
She only needed to give it a quick glance. “Easy. Kate Middleton. Duh. She’s always going to win that one. ”