the PTA and Little League. Maybe her plans had not been grand, but they’d been hers. More than once in the past seven years she’d spent a sleepless night wondering where she’d be if that eighteen-wheeler hadn’t crossed the center line. She would’ve finished college, gotten that job, made a life of her own. Would she have been as content with that life as she was with this one? Would things have turned out as she’d planned? She’d stopped asking those questions years ago. There was no way to know what that alternate life might’ve been like; there was no upside for her in “what-if?”
She liked her life just fine, and those old plans seemed so distant they might as well have been someone else’s.
Daisy gave Sandra’s new, shorter cut a good blow-dry with a round brush, touched it up with a spritz of hair spray and whipped off the purple cape that had protected her client’s clothing. Sandra was happy with the new style, and had just begun to gush about how much slimmer her face looked with the new cut when the door to the shop opened. Daisy didn’t have anyone scheduled for another hour. She’d planned to grab a sandwich as soon as Sandra left. But she did take walk-ins, and since business wasn’t exactly booming she’d gladly skip lunch to squeeze in another haircut. Maybe someone was dropping off a small item for repair, though if that was the case …
That was as far as her thoughts wandered before the person who’d opened the door stepped inside.
Jacob Tasker, the biggest “what-if?” of them all, looked her in the eye the way he always had, with confidence in his steady gaze. Dark brown eyes, like strong black coffee, caught hers and held on. He was bigger than he’d been when she’d last seen him. Not in a bad way; he didn’t have the beginnings of a gut, or jowls, or a double chin. All through college he’d bordered on skinny. He’d been wiry, at the very least. Since then he’d put on a few pounds of muscle, filling his expensive suit well.
Not only did that suit cost more than she made in a month, but no one wore a suit in Bell Grove unless A) They were Mayor or B) It was Sunday.
His haircut was expensive, too. There wasn’t a single hair out of place, no misbehaving cowlick or split ends. He was recently well-shaven. Damned if he couldn’t’ve just stepped out of an ad for expensive cologne or a ridiculously overpriced watch. And that smile … even though she could tell it was somewhat forced, the smile hadn’t changed at all. That smile had captured her when she’d been fifteen and he’d been eighteen. She’d fallen hard. She’d doodled Mrs. Daisy Tasker on the inside cover, and numerous pages, of every notebook and journal she’d owned, with swirly hearts over the i in Daisy. At that time he’d been too old for her, and she’d never confessed her feelings to anyone, not even to her closest friends. He’d been her secret crush, her heart’s deepest desire.
Four years later, when she’d been nineteen and he’d been twenty-two, they’d attended the same college and the three-year age difference was no longer an impediment. Since he’d taken a year off between high school and college, and he’d changed his major—twice—they’d even had some classes together. The smile had done her in again, along with other attributes she hadn’t been able to even imagine at fifteen. That had been a blissfully happy time of her life; she’d lived in a fairy tale.
And a little less than two years later it had all fallen apart, and she’d been reminded that the original fairy tales always had a wicked twist at the end.
Crap. Daisy couldn’t say she hadn’t ever imagined seeing Jacob again, but in her fantasy she’d had time to put on something pretty and freshen her makeup. She’d been ridiculously happy; she hadn’t missed him at all. In her daydreams she could barely remember what he looked like. She had no regrets, there were no “what-ifs?” On the other hand he’d been miserable, so very sorry he’d let her slip away. In her imaginings he had not aged well. Maybe there was a gut, or a softening of his features. Just enough of an unflattering change to make her glad that their relationship had ended when it had. Ah, fantasy.
But in real life she was wearing a minimum of makeup and a black smock over well-worn jeans and a sadly old Brooks and Dunn T-shirt. And he looked better than she remembered, more a man, harder. Sharper. She thought about Jacob too damn often. And he didn’t look at all sorry. No, he looked as confident as always, as if he never had a single moment of doubt about any decision he’d ever made.
Not even leaving her.
He closed the door on the bright sunshine, said hello to her and to Sandra, who—thankfully—prattled about how long it had been since she’d seen Jacob, how she’d heard about his success, and how was California, anyway? She asked about his brothers and his cousins. He had plenty of relatives in the area, so that took a while. While the Bells had dwindled—only the three sisters remained of the founders of this small town—the Taskers had multiplied and flourished. You couldn’t take two steps in the county without tripping over one of Jacob’s cousins.
While Jacob and Sandra exchanged pleasantries, Daisy took a deep breath and tried to decide what she should say, when the time for her to speak arrived. Her hands fell to her thighs, where she wiped them on her jeans. Her nails weren’t painted. She had sweaty palms. Great. He couldn’t have called first? He couldn’t have given her a little warning so she could brush up on her speech? How rude!
As Jacob and Sandra talked, the television news droned on, the announcer’s words making no sense at all. Blah, blah, blah. Yada yada yada. The air conditioner whirred. Daisy was aware of every sound that filled the room, most specifically Jacob’s voice. She’d always loved his voice; the timbre, the way she felt it in her spine.
She really should pretend that seeing him again didn’t affect her at all, but it was probably too late for that. Her jaw had dropped when he’d walked in and she’d stared at him wordlessly for too long to pull off that lie. He’d probably noticed her wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans; he never had been one to miss much. She could just light into him and say all the things she sometimes wished she’d said. For a long while all the things she wished she’d said to him had kept her up at night. None of them were pleasant.
But when Sandra put cash on the front counter, waved at Daisy and left, and Daisy and Jacob were left alone, what she said was,
“What the hell do you want?”
Well, what had he expected? A parade?
Daisy hadn’t changed much at all. She still had long pale hair, cornflower-blue eyes, long legs and flawless, lightly tanned skin. On the drive over Jacob had wondered if Daisy would look older, if sacrificing for her family and giving up her own dreams, seven years ago, had drained her.
But she looked as good as ever. Better, in fact. The years had been good to her. The girl he’d loved was gone, replaced by a gorgeous woman.
“I need a favor,” he said, suspecting that her response to that simple request wouldn’t be pretty.
“A favor.” She shook her head in wonder, and her posture changed as if she were getting ready to do battle. Maybe she was. “From me? Is this a joke?”
“Just hear me out.”
Daisy threw up her hands. Her cheeks flushed pink. “Whatever this favor is, I don’t have the time.”
Bell’s Beauty Shop and Small Engine Repair was located in the heart of downtown Bell Grove, on the square across from city hall, sandwiched between an antiques shop and a family-run sandwich shop. All the buildings in the downtown area were old as dirt. The owners did their best to keep them in good repair, but there was no way to disguise the effects of a hundred years plus of use.
Bell’s was small but clean, the walls freshly painted a welcoming pale green, the magazines neatly stacked. The chairs in the shop were mismatched, probably yard sale finds, but somehow Daisy had made it all look planned. The lace curtains and live plants pulled it all together. There was a counter in the back, just past the door to the restroom, and a dark green wooden door that he knew opened onto the area where her dad had once fixed mowers and other lawn-care equipment, as well as the occasional toaster even though there were no small engines in kitchen appliances. Business didn’t