She gave one small laugh, then wiped her face with the heel of her hand. “Was it stupid?”
Jonathan had lost his hair in clumps across a pillowcase. Letty had never forgotten. I had not forgotten either.
I crossed the bathroom, took the scissors from her hand, and drew her into my arms. “No,” I whispered. “No, sweetheart. Your dad would be so proud of you. I know I am.”
She cried against my shoulder for a while, then pulled back. “Can we fix my hair? I look like a founding father.”
One hour later, we were sitting in Teresa’s salon, Letty wrapped in a cape while Teresa examined the damage and released one quiet sigh.
Teresa’s husband, Luis, walked in halfway through and stopped short when he noticed the ponytail on the counter.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
Before I could explain, Letty said, “A girl in my class needs a wig.”
He truly looked at her then, and smiled at me through the mirror. “Hi, Piper. That’s Jonathan’s girl, all right.”
My daughter sat a little taller beneath the cape. “You knew my dad?”
Luis nodded. “Yes, sweetie. I worked with him for eight years.”
She touched the blunt ends of her newly shortened hair. “He would’ve liked this haircut?”
Teresa gave a snort. “No decent man would support a bathroom haircut, my girl.”
“Mama,” Letty whined.
“But,” Teresa added, her voice gentler, “he would’ve loved the reason for it.”
Luis rested against the station and looked at Letty. “Your dad couldn’t stand seeing people suffer alone. It drove him crazy.”
Letty lowered her eyes to her hands. “Millie tried to act like she didn’t care, but she did.”
