“It’s gorgeous.” Nina flipped the magazine open, situating herself in the chair.

“She wanted to get it cut for some charity. I told her I’d write them a ten-thousand dollar check before I let her cut her hair.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Rachel said faintly, really realizing for the first time just how big of a deal it was going to be when this woman found out what she’d done to her daughter’s hair. Maybe she won’t have to know it was me personally, Rachel thought as she swept past the stations and rounded the corner. Then she saw Emma, sitting back in the chair, laughing at something her father had said.

You’re a coward, Rachel Lange.

She was. Here was this young girl who had given up her mane of beauty as a sacrifice for a friend, who was going to have to face Nina Malden at the breakfast table every day with that fact, and Rachel was worried about one little confrontation with the woman?

She touched her wig, checking the adhesive-she did this obsessively all day long-and put on a professional smile. “Are you ready to get your style on?” Emma’s returning smile was radiant, making her even more beautiful, and Rachel got to work, spraying her hair down to wet it and picking up her scissors. The girl’s hair was a joy to cut, thick and healthy and truly, as her mother had remarked, just gorgeous.

“I bet you feel lighter,” Rachel remarked.

“Loads. For so many reasons,” Emma agreed, glancing over at her father. He sat back in the stylist chair, arms crossed, just smiling. Rachel wondered if he was gloating, if this was some sort of payback to his wife. Ex-wife, she reminded herself.

“Your mother is going to kill me,” Jake said, crossing one very expensive Prada shoe over the other as he watched more of his daughter’s hair fall to the floor. “But I’m pretty sure my life insurance is all paid up, so you’re set, Em.”