“Calhoun might have meant well, but what he thought happened, didn’t. The truth is that Mason and I are farther apart than ever. I don’t even know why I say ‘Mason and I’ in the same breath. Separate is what we have to be.”
The women looked at her. There were nineteen stylists who’d come to Union Junction several years ago and stayed through the night of the big storm that had nearly leveled the town. They’d worked for a while in Lonely Hearts Station before Last’s girlfriend, Valentine, accidentally burned down the salon. Now they were all back here. The only missing “sister” was Annabelle Turnberry Jefferson, who lived in a different city with her husband, Frisco Joe. Over the years, all the women had grown close, a family who had learned to be strong despite whatever bad circumstance had originally brought them here.
Mimi felt certain she shouldn’t complain about her life, when it was as wonderful as it was, but one too many people had asked about Mason. Mimi had replied that she wasn’t in charge of his social calendar, which had gotten the girls to gossiping.
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