Her Unexpected Hero. Cheryl Harper

Duncan’s reelection campaign will answer my calls, so that shoots my whole ‘make a difference in Tennessee politics’ plan in the foot. My engagement to a perfect man from a wealthy family destined for the White House is... Yeah, if you can read a newspaper or blog, you already know all about that. The smell? It’s lavender. My mother insists that I use the shampoo she makes herself from the organic ingredients she grows in her garden. Does it smell nice? Yes. Does it lather? No. Does it do anything other than strip every bit of gloss and shine from your expensive haircut?” Winter poked the frizzy fall of dark hair over her ear. “Hard to say. I’m still only a month into the experiment. It may totally remove every hair from my head. That’s the way life is going right now.”

       You’re griping about shampoo. Your whole life is wrecked, but what you complain about is the state of your hair.

       Yes. I deserve to complain.

       Oh, poor baby. Rich husband fell through, and all that schooling and job experience have left you at the mercy of... What, again?

      Angel on one shoulder, self-doubt and pity on the other. That was why she was exhausted.

      For half a second, Winter was relieved to let off some of the pressure of the worries boiling in her brain. Then regret washed over her. Letting people know she was struggling was an un-Kingfisher thing to do. Her family handled their own problems.

      Christina’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, you do have a lot going on right now, up there in your brain, anyway.” She pointed a french fry around the table. “But Winter Kingfisher can spin all that on a dime. You know it. We know it. Some of us have halfheartedly resented you for it for decades, ever since they stood in your ‘most likely to succeed’ shadow.” Christina nudged her burger closer. “Take a bite. Take a breath. We can help. Some of us are professionals at picking up the pieces after everything falls apart.”

      Christina had nailed her problem right on the head. Winter should be above this...floundering. The fact that the bad girl of Sweetwater was giving her a pep talk took some consideration, but Winter appreciated it. She picked up her drink and took a sip because she couldn’t decide whether to agree or disagree, and that ambivalence was irritating. She’d never hesitated in her life.

      Now, having someone order her dinner for her was a relief.

      “When Astrid and I first started planning this get-together, I had a much rowdier vision in mind. Young, single women. On the town. A bar with real choices other than beer and light beer. With all the excitement over the showdown with the Callaways about the proposed lodge at Otter Lake and the...” Breakup. That was the missing word. Macy shot a worried glance at Winter before straightening in her seat. “Holiday. Christmas slowed us down, but I’m glad everyone could get together tonight.” She jammed her straw three times to loosen the ice in her drink and glanced toward the bar. “When we get on a regular schedule, we can move this out of town. The Branch is our starting point, not where we end.”

      The petite blonde seated across from Astrid, Leanne Hendrix, said, “I’m happy to have a chance to get out.” She tugged on the shoulder of her T-shirt, the hot-pink uniform of Sweetwater Souvenir, the shop she’d been asked to run. “I’d rather sit here quietly with you guys than clean my apartment and binge-watch some television show.”

      More awkward silence stretched over the table, but Winter silently agreed. She’d had to come to terms with the fact that she needed new friends. More friends.

      “That’s it. We aren’t going to let gossip keep us apart, not anymore.” Christina slapped her hand on the table. “In fact, let’s come up with a name. It’ll be like our little club then. We could do jackets.”

      “Have you lost your mind?” Macy drawled. “Let’s start small. Dinner. A successful dinner.” She pointed at Winter. “This girl is half a second from bailing on us, and we haven’t even eaten our burgers yet. Let’s make it through one night.”

      Christina rolled her eyes. “Fine. You want to start small, we’ll start small.”

      Something about her exasperation amused Winter. She wasn’t alone. Finally, their booth’s atmosphere was closer to being a party than an interview going badly. How long had it been since she had giggled like that?

      When everyone turned to look at her again, Winter said, “You guys would be off to a better start without me. I’m not in the mood to party lately. I should get my burger to go.”

      Before she could stand, Macy grabbed her hand and held tight. “You are staying. You’re eating. And if you want to talk about everything that has gone wrong or could go wrong or will go wrong or how you’re going to conquer the world next, we are here to listen to it. You may have been too cool for all this before, but I am not. I want to be able to call someone when I need to talk about things. This is why we need girls’ nights out.” She shook her finger at Christina. “That is not the name of our group.”

      “Eat your burger. Burgers make everything better.” Christina waved hers and took a big bite, staring around the table until everyone followed suit.

      “You could smuggle your own shampoo into the bathroom.” Macy pressed a hand to the center of Winter’s back and ran it in small circles, her expression one of extreme concern. “Before I got to know you so well, I was pretty sure you were too cool to notice my existence. A lot of that had to do with how amazing your hair was. Sleek. Shiny. Every day. Like magic.”

      It took Winter a second to realize they’d returned to her shampoo challenges, and the good hair was in the past tense. She understood the impulse. On the list of problems she had, it should be the easiest to solve.

      Winter’s whole life had fallen apart, and Macy was ready to cry over her hair. That was how well her mother’s shampoo was working. Every time Winter stared in the mirror now, she was reminded that life had taken a fuzzy, out-of-control detour.

      “I could, but it’s pretty clear when I use my own stuff. The fact that I can run a brush through it gives me away. The lectures you get for bringing plastic bottles into my mother’s house, and on the expense of salon shampoos, and the devastating research some companies perform on animals, although not mine, because I did my own research and paid twice what I needed so I could use it with a clear conscience but whatever, Mother... All that together?” Winter snatched the butterfly clip holding her bangs back out of her hair. “Nobody has time for that every day, not even the unemployed.”

      Clearly, her new friends were not quite certain how to react, but their small smiles and twitching lips were another reason to laugh.

      And that felt good.

      “I never appreciated the small things before,” Winter said, “but the small things have gotten much, much larger lately.” The tiny pinch of the butterfly clip she’d stolen from her mother’s stuff was easy to focus on.

      “Any idea how long you’ll be staying with Mom and Dad?” Macy asked. “Ash has room in his cabin and there’s a couch in my living room. The space isn’t much, but you’re welcome to it. And there’s no way I’ll lecture you about your shampoo.” Macy lowered her voice, and added, “Unless you won’t let me use it, too.”

      Christina elbowed her in the side affectionately.

      “What? She has good stuff. Her hair was legendary.” Macy held both arms out to the ladies as if to say no one in town would blame her. “Before all this, I could hardly talk to Winter because she was so...together.”

      Before. Macy didn’t have to explain before what.

      That was something else everyone at the table knew.

      Before the governor had read the environmental-impact report of the new lodge being planned for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and decided to attack his political opponent, Whit Callaway, Jr., over the damage to Tennessee’s resources and history.

      Before the lodge, which the Callaways were pushing through on the land they owned