Free The Look of Love: A Novel by Sarah Jio

year,” she says. “Honestly, I’d rather have him home than have a new kitchen.”
    “I’m sure,” I say. “But he’s on a tear with his music, isn’t he? You must be so proud of him.” When they married, Eli was an unemployed songwriter, but five years ago, he got a big break when one of his songs was picked up by a Hollywood producer and put into a movie that ended up winning an Academy Award. It injected life into his career, and last year, he signed with a major record label.
    “I am,” she replies, then bites the edge of her lip. “I mean, I sound like a jealous wife or something. It’s not that I’m not happy for him; it’s just that, well, it’s really hard to be married to a musician. Especially a touring musician. A touring, incredibly hot musician.”
    Eli is hot, yes. In Lo terms, he’s “sizzling.” The type of guy who can walk into a bar and attract the eyes of every woman in the room, even the married ones. Eli is highly aware that he possesses this ability, and for Mary’s sake, that has always given me pause.
    “I can only imagine,” I say. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”
    She sighs. “No, I wouldn’t. He’s the love of my life.” She reaches for the hair dryer and round brush. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to wondering about his life on the road, wondering about all the amazing women he meets. They throw themselves at him, Jane. I’ve actually witnessed it.”
    “
You
are an amazing woman, honey,” I say, locking eyes with her in the mirror in front of me. “He’s married to the very best one. You have nothing to worry about.”
    She shrugs. “We’ve been talking about starting a family.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful,” I say. “You’d be a great mom, Mary.”
    “We’ll see,” she says. “We’ve been trying for about six months now. No luck yet. I mean, his infrequent trips home don’t really help matters.”
    “Well, if it’s meant to happen, it will happen.”
    Mary nods. “Yes, you’re right. Eli gets home soon.” She finishes blow-drying my hair, then turns me around to face the mirror. “There.”
    “Thanks,” I say. “Perfect, as usual.”
    “Big plans for New Year’s Eve?”
    I shake my head. “My brother’s throwing one of his usual parties, and he’s hell-bent on getting me to go.”
    “Oh, how is Flynn doing?”
    A long time ago Flynn had a crush on Mary, but knowing his track record with women, I did not encourage it. “He’s all right,” I say. “Roaming from one woman to the next, you know.” I grin. “Nothing new.”
    Mary spritzes my hair with hair spray that smells like citrus. “Well, I think you should go to his party. You never know who you might meet.”
    I roll my eyes. “No, I know exactly the type of guy I’ll meet, and he’ll be an artist, probably have a sleeve of tattoos and wear skinny pants, and possibly suspenders.”
    Mary grins. “You’re too picky, Jane. Those guys can be great too.”
    Just then, the salon door opens and an older woman walks in. I immediately recognize her as the British woman who recently passed Mel’s newsstand at the market. She is so polished and proud, and yet her presence has a lonely tenor to it. When her eyes meet mine, I smile, but she quickly looks away.
    “What’s her story?” I ask Mary in a whisper.
    “Oh, Vivian,” she says in a hushed tone that matches mine. “She comes in every Thursday for a wash and blowout. She doesn’t say much. For a long time, I thought she was an ice queen, but . . .” Mary stops and shakes her head. “Do you know what happened to her husband?”
    “Her
husband
?”
    “Yeah, she was married. I had to use some serious detective skills to connect the dots. One day she paid with a check, and I noted her last name. A quick Google search turned up quite a story. Jane, she’s the widow of Alastair Sinclair.”
    I shake my head. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
    “It didn’t for me at first either,