Wednesday's Word: Range. An Excerpt from Small Town Secrets

 Welcome to Wednesdays where I share an excerpt from one of my books using the previous day's word from the New York Times' game. WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was RANGE. 

You can read the first three chapters of Small Town Secrets for free on the Kindle Vella platform. This is an excerpt from Episode 3. 

YOU CAN READ THE FIRST THREE EPISODES FOR FREE ON THE KINDLE VELLA PLATFORM HERE

Dr. Henderson’s mouth continued to move, but I couldn’t understand a word he said. He had somehow slipped into the lingo used by the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon.

 

“Son? Are you listening?”

 

I nodded and tried to rein my thoughts back into the office. A poodle in a crate cocked her head as if she knew and understood my problem. Her puffy fur gave me an idea.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t want you to think I’m disinterested, because I am. I really am.” I grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door beside a colorful collection of leashes. “But I have to go.”

 

I pulled open the door and nearly collided with a woman toting a fat Siamese in a cat carrier.

 

“Where are you going?” Dr. Henderson called after me.

 

“A hair appointment,” I tossed the words over my shoulder. “It’s an emergency!”

 

I sprinted down the sidewalk, barely taking note of the group of high school students attempting to string a banner over Main Street.

 

“Caden!” I recognized Phebe’s voice. My little sister pulled away from the crowd. Like the others of her kind, she wore a blue and gold Cascadia ASB sweatshirt. “Can you help?” She had a ladder braced against her shoulder. “You’re tall,” she stated as if this was something I didn’t know.

 

“Sorry, sis. I’m getting my hair cut.” I brushed past her.

 

“That’s weird,” Phebe muttered.

 

“Your brothers are so hot,” one of the girls said.

 

“Hey!” a guy complained.

 

I didn’t wait to hear anymore but pulled open the door to The Cut Above Salon. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I scanned the room. Mirrors lined the walls. Hattie stood behind her silver chrome desk and looked at me with wide eyes before scanning her appointment book. I didn’t see Simone, just the other two beauticians armed with scissors and combs beside the black swivel chairs filled by customers draped in black ponchos.

 

“I don’t have you down, Dr. Haywood.” Hattie gave me a worried frown.

 

Knowing I should have drummed up a plan before running all the way here, I struggled to control my breath and thoughts. “I don’t have one.” I swallowed. “Is Simone in?”

 

“She’s in the back. Should I ring her and let her know you’re here?”

 

“Maybe I could just go back there?”

 

Hattie’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, that should be okay.”

 

When another customer walked in, Hattie said, “Go ahead. You know where it is, right?”

 

Simone called it the gathering room—a cozy place she’d created for customers to wait while their hair was processed…or something. She’d told me about the idea years ago, long before she’d bought the salon and made it her own. Since I only came for haircuts, I had never had the need to hang out in the gathering room, but I’d seen other customers there, lounging on the sofa, reading in the chairs, and sipping herbal teas with their hair in stRANGE tinfoil hats or cotton balls shoved between their toes.

 

My steps faltered when I saw Alex and Simone cuddled on the sofa.

 

Simone bounced up. “Caden! Do we have an appointment?”

 

Alex watched me with a smirk on his face.

 

“No. I…but I wanted to make one.” I shot my brother another glance. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Consultation,” Alex said.

 

“Consultation?” I echoed.

 

Simone flashed a concerned glance between me and my brother as if trying to determine if there was something going unsaid between us. “Alex asked me if I wanted to help with the theater’s production of Twelfth Night.”

 

“With a modern twist,” Alex said. “Simone has kindly agreed to oversee the cast’s hair and makeup.”

 

“And you’re the lead?”

 

Alex dipped his head and rolled his hand as if he was the king.

 

“I’ll make an appointment with Hattie,” I said before backing out of the room.

 

Moments later, I found myself outside and balancing on Phebe’s ladder. She handed me one corner of the banner announcing the high school’s homecoming.

 

“You heard Simone broke up with Clive Henderson?” Phebe asked after I’d completed her task.

 

The banner hung above us, the pulleys tinging against the streetlights.

 

I returned to the ground with a thump. “Yes.”

 

Phebe held back her hair with one hand to keep it from blowing in her face. “Is that why you ran down there?”

 

“No.” I made a face and glanced over at the other ASB students gathering around a red pickup. I doubted any of them could overhear us, but still, this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to be having on Main Street with my little sister. Or with anyone, anywhere, at any time.

 

Phebe blew out a sigh. “You’re so lame. You came home when you heard Simone was free, but not for Chloe’s birthday?”

 

I thought about telling Phebe about Mustard’s urinary infection but decided that was another conversation I didn’t want to have for a couple of reasons. The first: I didn’t have to explain myself to my little sister. The second: Mustard died and I didn’t want to talk about that, either. “There was an emergency at the office.”

 

Phebe cocked her hip. “What kind of emergency?”

 

“A life and death emergency.”

 

That seemed to shut her up.

 

“Was it a murder?” One of Phebe’s wide-eyed friends asked. The girl wore her hair in a high ponytail and wore an oversized flannel shirt over a pair of jean shorts and a Taylor Swift T-shirt.

 

Phebe elbowed her. “He’s a vet, not a police detective.”

 

“Sometimes pets are murdered, too,” the girl said in a hurt tone.

 

And sometimes, so are little sisters.

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