Do You Hear What I Hear?

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So here he was.

Dr. Joshua Gardner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Footloose and fancy-free, and utterly unsure of what to do with his loose ends.

He’d readily agreed to Mabel’s request because chairing the Christmas party gave him something to do, and gave him a way to ease into the community he had joined. His agreement had nothing to do with the fact that the very bristly Ms. McGuiness would be working with him.

No. It had nothing to do with her at all.

She was his neighbor. This was just an excellent way to get over the hurdle of their first, inauspicious meeting.

That’s all it was.

Chapter Three

A business meeting.

That’s all this was.

People had them all the time.

The phrases ran through her head all day, and yet not one eased the raging case of nerves Libby had developed. It was only a meeting, and Libby didn’t know why it was bothering her so much. But when she accidentally dropped her scissors for about the hundredth time of the day, she knew it was useless to deny her anxiety any longer.

She was nervous as hell about this little meeting.

“Would you stop fluttering around the shop like some sort of drunken butterfly?” Josie asked, exasperation in her voice. “He’s only a man, sweetums. And men are a dime a dozen. You can take my word for that.”

“He’s not a man, he’s a business associate. That’s the only reason I’m seeing him tonight. Business.”

“If you say so,” Josie said with a sly smile.

“I do.”

“Well, then settle down.” There was more than a hint of indulgence in Josie’s voice.

“I’m not nervous,” Libby said with as much force as she could muster.

“Hey, my appointment just canceled,” Pearly called as she came in from the back room.

“Why don’t you just take off early?” Libby offered.

“That’s one idea,” Pearly said slowly.

Libby sensed a trap, but asked anyway, “What’s the other?”

“You could let me have a go at that hair. It’s getting so long, and it’s such heavy hair that carrying around that weight all day can’t be comfortable.”

Libby grabbed her braid. No way was she going to let Pearly start trimming. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Pearly asked innocently. Much too innocently.

“Of course I trust you,” Libby reassured her, even while she silently added, As far as I can throw you. “But I don’t have time to get my hair cut. I have a meeting in an hour and have to close up the shop and—”

“We’ll close up the shop for you. And I’m not talking a cut, just a small trim,” Pearly pressed.

“You really need one,” Josie said, blatantly choosing Pearly’s side as she joined the skirmish.

“Well…”

“Come on, Libby.” Pearly sensed the kill was at hand and pounced. “You just sit yourself in this chair and let me give your hair a quick rinse. We’ll have it all trimmed, smart and proper, before your date—”

“It’s not a date, it’s a business meeting,” Libby said again. Exactly who she was reminding she wasn’t sure. She’d had meetings in the past and had never felt this jittery about any of them.

“Who’s Libby meeting?” Mrs. Kane asked from Josie’s manicure chair.

“The new doctor next door,” Josie said.

“It’s just a meeting,” Pearly soothed. “Well, let’s get this done before your meeting shows up.”

Reluctantly Libby sat. The wash went fine, and Pearly led her to the chair, had the cape whipped over her shoulders before Libby could blink an eye. It wasn’t until Pearly picked up the scissors that the trouble started. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what?” Libby asked, craning her head to peek in the mirror.

“I slipped with the scissors,” Pearly cheerfully responded.

“How did you slip with the scissors when you’ve only just started?”

“It was easy. But don’t you worry. You’re going to just sit here and let me fix up this mess I created.”

Knowing that her hacked hair was no accident, Libby resigned herself to a real cut—a cut she hadn’t asked for and didn’t necessarily want.

“Pearly, what are you doing?” she asked as the snipping seemed to continue for an inordinately long time. Libby cut hair for a living and knew that this was taking longer than a trim—even a trim with slipping—should take.

“You just sit back and relax. You don’t relax nearly enough.” Clip. Clip.

“And it doesn’t appear I’m going to get much relaxing done tonight.”

“Yeah, meetings aren’t very relaxing, are they?” Pearly asked. Snip. Snip.

“Especially not when you’re meeting with a handsome man like Joshua,” Josie added.

Clip. Clip.

“I haven’t met the new doctor yet.” Mrs. Kane looked interested. “Is he that good-looking?”

“Better,” Josie assured her.

“Worth getting an eye exam,” Pearly added. Snip. Snip.

Clip, clip, clip.

“It sounds like a lot of cutting for just a small trim.” Libby tried to turn and catch a glimpse in the mirror of what Pearly was up to, but Pearly grabbed her head.

“Well, there was that slip, remember.” Clip. “But don’t worry, you’re going to love it.” Snip.

“I already do,” Josie piped in.

Libby groaned.

And when Pearly finally turned the chair so she could look at her trim, she groaned even louder. “Pearly!”

“I told you I slipped.”

Muttering about scissor-slipping stylists, Libby toyed with her now-shoulder-length hair. It wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t about to tell her sneaky, snipping, conniving employees that. She gave her head a small shake and watched in delight as the brunette curls, freed from the weight of her hair and her ever-present braid, bounced.

Despite the fact she didn’t hate the cut, might even like it a bit, she wasn’t about to admit a thing. She was just about to read them both a riot act when the bell over the door chimed merrily.

“Ready?” Dr. Gardner, the hunky reason for Pearly’s slippage, asked as he walked through the door.

“Just let me get my coat.” She grabbed it off the hook in the back room. Before she walked out the door she turned to the two haircut cohorts. “And don’t forget to get in an hour early tomorrow for that little meeting we’re going to have.”

“What little meeting?” Pearly asked.

“The one where we discuss professionalism, honesty and nonslip scissors.”

The phone rang and Josie practically vaulted over the chair to get it and escape the lecture.

“Nonslip scissors?” Dr. Gardner—Libby refused to think of him as Joshua—asked.

“Snips and Snaps,” Josie said into the receiver.

“Private joke.” Libby trudged after him toward the door. “Where are we going?”

“My place? I’ve got an apartment at Lovell Place, so it’s close.”

There was no way she was going to Joshua Gardner’s home, no way at all. This was a professional association, and professional associations didn’t get all chummy at each other’s homes—dates did. And this wasn’t a date.

“I was thinking maybe a restaurant, or—”

“Libby,” Josie called. “It’s Mrs. Henderson.”

“Meg?” A sense of dread crept into Libby’s heart. “Is something wrong with Meg?”

“She said there was a small accident.”

A helpless feeling washed over Josh as the color totally deserted Libby. She raced for the phone, and he followed. Who the hell was Meg? A sister? A friend?

As she spoke in hushed tones to this Mrs. Henderson, some of the color returned to her face. By the time she hung up she looked better, though obviously still concerned. “Listen, I hate to cancel on you, but I’ve got to go.”

“Who’s Meg?” he asked.

“My daughter.” With that she was gone and all Joshua could do was watch her leave.

Her daughter?

A hand touched her shoulder. “There’s no husband to go with that daughter, if that’s what you’re wondering, boy.”

He turned and looked into the graying stylist’s warm eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No, you won’t be if you stick around. Libby’s a woman no man would be sorry to have. And I said, she doesn’t have a husband, leastwise, not anymore, so you don’t have to look so puppy-dog sad.”

“Miss—” Joshua left the word hanging, realizing he didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Missed a man, that’s the only Miss I’ve got. And the name’s Pearly. Pearly Gates. You see, the day I was born my mother—God rest her soul—took one look at me and said she was looking on a piece of heaven. She named me Pearly, Pearly Gates, to remind herself—and me, too—what I was.”

Josh couldn’t help but smile. Before he could make his escape, Pearly added, “And Mama used to say it was a good thing she named me Pearly ’cause she needed all the remindin’ she could get. Seems I might have come from heaven, but the devil put his two cents in my makeup. I was always gettin’ in one piece of trouble after another. Mama said the gray hairs on her head were all mine. I figure this—” she ran her fingers through her short gray hair “—is her way of getting even with me.”