Husband In Harmony. Sharon Swan

‘N Curls beauty salon. “Are you sure he’ll be back?” she asked, her lips curving with clear amusement.

      “Yeah, he’ll be back.” Folding her arms over the front of her well-washed white T-shirt, Jane propped one denim-clad hip against the round work island holding her sister’s tools of the trade. “He called this morning and said he and his son should get to Glory Ridge shortly after lunch tomorrow.”

      “I remember Adam Lassiter as a boy,” Ellen’s current client offered from her seat in a high chrome swivel chair.

      Neither Ellen nor Jane expressed any surprise at that news. Unlike many people born and raised in the area, the sisters had never been members of Hester Goodbody’s first grade class at the biggest of Harmony’s elementary schools. Nevertheless, it was far from a secret that the now-retired teacher recalled her past students with a memory still sharp at the advanced age of eighty-plus.

      “What kind of boy was he, Miss Hester?” Jane’s curiosity had her asking. She’d used both the courteous title and the respectful tone most people summoned when talking to this woman.

      “A charmer,” Miss Hester didn’t hesitate to reply. “But intelligent, as well. I’m hardly amazed that he went on to achieve success.”

      Jane couldn’t honestly say she’d seen the charm. But the intelligence? Yes, she had no doubt that her new consultant was smart and shrewd. “We’ll see if he can put all that brainpower to good advantage and come up with something that will help the resort.”

      Miss Hester’s blue eyes, framed by gold-rimmed glasses, sparkled with good-natured humor. “It should be interesting to see how you two get along.”

      Ellen gave her customer’s wispy silver hair a final pat. “We’re done,” she said, removing a cream-colored cloth cape that fit right in with the peach and cream décor chosen by the salon’s original owner. Although the shop hadn’t been around as long as a few of the oldest businesses in downtown Harmony, it had nonetheless occupied its prime location on Main Street for some time.

      Miss Hester viewed her reflection in the mirror. “A wonderful job, as always,” she told Ellen. The petite woman, who was inches shorter than even Jane’s slight height, hopped nimbly off the chair.

      “Best of luck on your project,” she added to Jane before following Ellen to the front desk to pay her bill.

      Jane’s nose wrinkled at the smell of the permanent-wave solution another operator was using on a customer farther down the room. The long-ago summer she herself had earned extra money as a shampoo girl in this very place had been pure torture, Jane recalled. Her sister, on the other hand, was at home here, pursuing a career she was both good at and genuinely enjoyed.

      “You messed with your bangs again, didn’t you?” Ellen accused as she returned, sliding tip money into a pocket of her bright peach smock. A frown of exasperation marred a smooth forehead topped by a shiny crown of frosted blond curls.

      “I whacked a little off last night,” Jane admitted. She glanced at her handiwork in the mirror. “They don’t look too bad.”

      Ellen’s sigh was long and heartfelt. “They’re crooked.”

      Jane shrugged. “They’re out of my eyes, and that’s what counts.”

      Shaking her head, Ellen said, “Why do I even bother caring?”

      “Because you love me,” Jane replied with a smile, sure of her words. She had no doubt that she’d loved, and been truly loved by, three women in her life: her gentle mother, her straight-talking great-aunt and her only sister. She’d lost two of those women, but Ellen, who now had a husband and a growing son, could still be counted on to care—always.

      Confirming it, Ellen dipped her chin in a quick nod. “Which means I’m not going to stop trying to whip you into shape.” She picked up a bottle of styling mousse. “If you’ll just let me fluff your hair out a little and put some spray on, it’ll help.”

      Jane took a swift step back and held up her hands. “I hate that stuff. It makes me sneeze.”

      Ellen stepped forward. “Sometimes you have to suffer in the name of beauty.”

      Again Jane backed away, her boots scraping softly on the checkered tile floor. “I wouldn’t wind up anywhere near a beauty if you sprayed the whole can on me.”

      Her taller and curvier sister raised a well-arched brow. “As I’ve told you I don’t know how many times, you could look better—a lot better—if you’d take some pointers from me.”

      “I’m happy as I am,” Jane said firmly. Maybe there were times she couldn’t help but wish she bore at least a passing resemblance to some of the models featured on the covers of glossy magazines like those strewn about the salon’s waiting area. But seeing a model’s face in her own mirror was a fantasy, she realized. The reality of the situation—her reality—was that nature had dealt her a far different hand.

      Ellen set the can down. “Defeated again,” she grumbled.

      “You’ll survive,” Jane told her in a bolstering tone.

      “Uh-huh.” Ellen met her sister’s gaze. “But how will you fare tangling with a good-looking consultant?”

      It was Jane’s turn to frown. “I didn’t say he was good-looking.”

      “You didn’t have to,” Ellen said with a knowing glint in her deep green eyes, “because I remember what you told me before you even got a glimpse of him—that he’s related to one of Harmony’s founding families. His last name might be Lassiter, but he’s also part Hayward, and all the Haywards are attractive.”

      “Maybe he’s the exception.”

      “Is he?”

      “No,” Jane had to concede. “He’s attractive enough…if you like the dressed-for-success type.”

      “The type you’ve never had much experience dealing with before,” Ellen pointed out.

      “Which doesn’t mean I can’t handle it—and him.”

      “Mmm-hmm,” Ellen murmured, her expression becoming thoughtful. “I do believe Miss Hester was right. It’ll be real interesting to see how the two of you handle each other.”

      Privately, Jane thought so, too, and despite her outward show of bravado, inwardly she wasn’t quite so certain of being able to hold her own. It was a good thing—a double-darn good thing, she told herself—that she had one big advantage. However much time she and Adam Lassiter spent together this summer, they would spend it on her turf. Not his. Still, for as much comfort as that brought, her worries remained centered on one question.

      Would Glory Ridge survive?

      Chapter Two

      Adam flicked off the air conditioner and rolled down the windows of the blue hatchback sedan he’d rented. “Smell that pine-scented air,” he said in a hearty tone. It sounded a little forced, but at least he was making an effort to hold a conversation, which was more than his son had done since they’d left busy Phoenix behind them.

      “Uh-huh,” Sam said, and scrunched lower in his seat.

      Even then Adam noted that his son’s head, topped by short, light-brown hair, came up higher than it had a year earlier. That was the first thing he’d recognized on picking Sam up at the airport less than two weeks ago—how he’d grown. Not long afterward, the second truth to hit was that their mostly long-distance relationship was taking its toll. He and Sam were losing the connection that had been uniquely theirs from the day Adam had first held a red-faced baby in his arms.

      That realization had shaken him badly. He could still recall the chill it had sent sliding down his spine.

      “I know you’re not thrilled about postponing Disneyland to come up here,” Adam said,