Free Banjo Man by Sally Goldenbaum

like two acrobats hurtling through the air, each one astounded and delighted by the other’s perfect timing.
    “Am I missing something?” Larry complained, staring at the two of them in amused puzzlement.
    “Nothing I could explain.” Rick grinned, and Laurie bit at the inside of her cheek, willing back her self-control.
    “Good!” was Larry’s retort. “Then disappear for about thirty minutes.” With a flourish, he resumed his clipping and snipping.
    Rick paused on his way out, bent, and picked up one lock of Laurie’s shining hair. He tucked it safely in his pocket and left.
    In less time than she’d expected, the haircut was complete, and she was spun away from the mirror for a final appraisal.
    “Perfect!” Larry confided in a grand stage whisper. “Absolutely perfect.” Then, “What do
you
think?” he asked, spinning her back to face her reflection.
    Laurie couldn’t answer, not only out of modesty, but because her breath was trapped in her throat. The girl … the
woman
there in the mirror
was
beautiful. Her hair was a lightly feathered cap of shining copper and gold, thick and rich with highlights, shaped so that it followed the lovely curve of her brow and cheek and neck.
    “Well?” Larry prompted, obviously proud of his handiwork.
    Laurie nodded her silent agreement. A small smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. “Yes,” she said, finding her voice. “It’s wonderful. You did a beautiful job! Oh, thank you, Larry.” And then, already out of the chair, she added, “I’m going to get dressed before Rick comes back, and surprise him.”
    “Why don’t you go look in our boutique, find something luscious, and
really
surprise him?” Larry suggested, remembering her prim blue blazer.
    “Oh, I wish I could, but I don’t have time today,” she answered wistfully as she picked up her pocketbookand the bill he had written and turned away. But then she hesitated, looking over one shoulder and touching her hand to her hair as if to convince herself that what she saw in the mirror was real. With a shaky laugh, she hurried to the dressing room.
    Her clothes were gone. Vanished. And in their place were a soft, silken swirl of a skirt and an apple-green silk blouse.
    She dressed in the tiny room, slipped her feet into ivory sling-back sandals that were exactly her size, and turned slowly in front of the mirror. Tears stung her eyes. That man. That crazy, wonderful man. He shouldn’t be doing all this; she shouldn’t be letting him. But, oh, the sweetness of it! The kindness. The pure dizzying pleasure of being looked at the way he looked at her. How could she resist?
    Nothing in her whole life had prepared her for Rick Westin.
    And nothing had prepared
him
for the way she looked when she stepped out of the dressing room. Lovely. She glowed with a shy, mysterious awakening that had nothing to do with the haircut or the clothes or anything he had done, and yet he had everything to do with them. Rick felt his heart slam to a stop against his ribs. Something hit him hard behind the knees and smack between the eyes. So this was what had sent the troubadours and minstrels wandering through the countryside with tales of love and maidens fair. This was the secret he had held in his heart as he roamed the Appalachians from spring until fall every year, alone, waiting for someone. Her.
    “You look lovely,” he said softly.
    “Thank you,” she said with a shy laugh. Then she shook her head. “I say thank you, and yet I really can’t thank you enough. There’s no way—”
    “There’s no need. It’s my pleasure. Truly.”
    He stood looking at her another moment, and she turned slowly before him, suddenly not shy at all. Just happy.
    “All right,” he said, drawing a deep breath, as though he hadn’t breathed for a long time, “all right, let’s go get some lunch.” He handed her a shopping bag with her old clothes and took her arm, guiding her to the door.
    “The bill—” she