Nigel paced the sidewalk a few doors down from Fawn Do, checking his watch nervously. He had spent the last fifty minutes walking the length of the main drag on both sides, wearing dark glasses and keeping his head down, hoping to avoid any more old acquaintances; he was sure that Ross would expose his presence first chance he got.

The moment the hour was up he strode quickly to the shop and opened the door just as Darlene stepped out.

"Aaah, right on time."

She smiled and slipped on a pair of sunglasses, taking his arm and steering him up the street. Nigel glanced about warily; his last memory did not include a Darlene given to such public display of intimacy.

"Where uhm, do you—"

"There's a small outdoor patio around the corner across from the theatre. It's new since you were last here, but I think ya'll like it."

"Sounds wonderful." He shot a quick look at her long bare legs striding beside him. "So you're aah, the manager back there now?"

"Yes. Serge and Antonio, you remember them, they operate the beauty salon in the back."

"Oh yes. The uh, Cosmopatorium or something."

Darlene's laugh tinkled in his ear. "The BeauTy Cosmemporium. Capital B, capital T, for Begarra and Tressore."

"And what the hell does- what is it?"

"Cosmemporium."

"Yeah. What the devil does that mean?" They rounded the corner and slipped through the opening in a wrought iron frame that ate up half the sidewalk.

"Cosmetic emporium. It was Serge's idea. Here we are, there's one in the shade." He stepped back and let Darlene go to the table first, admiring the trim waist and nicely fitting skirt.

"There's your old alma mater, hasn't changed much, has it?" He twisted in the seat and looked across at the Ashton Hills Playhouse.

"Not as much as me," he answered thickly.

"Was the big city not what you expected?"

"Not by half. I think it might have been my big head that was the problem, after our success over there," he said, tipping his head back at the playhouse. "Too much too soon, isn't that the phrase?"

"Two coffees please, Rick." She ordered, without asking, when the young man approached the table. "Sorry, did you want anything else?" She slid her glasses off and dropped them on the table, fluffing her hair then joining her hands together, thumbs up, in front of her.

"No, coffee's fine." Nigel shifted on the iron chair, "You really do look great, Darlene. Different, more . . ."

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, that's a good word. Comfortable."

She blushed slightly, her lips parting to reveal her perfect teeth. "It seems that being manager of Fawn Do has somehow awarded me more respect from the community. Being black isn't quite as important anymore; particularly when Fawn Do is the only game in town for my 'new peers' to have their hair done."

"I detect a dash of bitterness." He leaned back as Rick set two mugs of coffee in front of them.

"Not at all." She broke a packet of sugar into the mug and stirred it thoughtfully. "We don't have to socialize, just perform our services. It works quite well actually."

"We? Our?" Nigel stared at her.

"Yes uhm, Henry and I." She raised her mug to her mouth and watched him over the rim.

"Henry?"

"Henry Matute. You remember Henry, he was Antonio's assistant."

Nigel glanced down remorsefully at his coffee. "You and Henry are . . ."

"Engaged." The word hit him like a club and his eyes darted to her fingers, fixing on the impressive ring he'd failed to notice earlier. "He manages the funeral parlour all by himself now. Doing very well." She sipped the coffee and set it down again. "Nigel, what were you thinking when you came to see me?"

He swirled his mug, spilling some coffee. "Shit! Aaah, excuse me." He dabbed at the mess with his napkin.

"You didn't answer me." Her gaze held steady.

"I just wanted to- to see you. Was that improper?" He cursed himself for sounding belligerent. Darlene picked up her glasses and put them on, looking away to the street.

"No, it wasn't. And I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

 He waved weakly, letting the hand flop on the table. "I- I just- I don't know. Listen, congratulations to you and Henry. When's the big day?" His false cheer fell flat.

"Not until Christmas and thank you. Look Nigel, what happened – well that's past. I told you then that it wouldn't work. Let's leave it at that and move on as friends. Okay?"

"Certainly. Of course. Friends." His mind's theatre played a copy of Darlene riding gracefully on a swing in the park, skirt flying, head back, laughing – not all the changes in Ashton Hills were positive, he thought, disappointed. He rummaged in his pocket for some change and dropped it on the table. "C'mon, I'll see you back to the shop." They walked without speaking, each lost in thought, until they arrived at Fawn Do, and Darlene said,

"Are you staying long, with your aunt, I mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. I haven't really decided." He toed the sidewalk. "Maybe for a while, if she lets me. At least until the anniversary celebration takes place."

"Oh the playhouse, yes, I forgot. There are a lot of memories. It should be a nice reunion." She stumbled through her comment, and then manufactured a brave face, "Well don't be a stranger. I still give a pretty mean cut." She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek, smiling.

"Right. Okay, I'll keep it in mind." He touched his face and quickly moved his fingers to his hair. "See you, Darlene."

*****

"So you saw Darlene and you're moping again."

"I am not moping." Nigel accepted the two plate loads of food and carried them to the table. How did she know that? The cooking smells from the kitchen pursued him with a tantalizing aroma.

"Well your face is a good six inches longer than when you left this morning." Veronica followed with two glasses of wine, setting herself at the table. "I should have told you about the engagement, I just didn't expect you to go calling on her."

"It doesn't matter." He cut into his pork chop and set his fork down. "She was so different, Victoria. She- she seemed so . . ."

"Together."

"She said comfortable but, yes, together describes it quite well." He tried his wine. "It wasn't the same girl."

"It wasn't a girl, Nigel, it was a woman." Victoria chewed heartily, prodding him to eat with short jabs of her knife in the air. "Darlene grew up in your absence. More responsibility, more maturity, more confidence. Something that seems to have eluded you." Nigel gave his aunt a hurt look and poked at his meal. "Don't get all sulky, eat your dinner."

Where did she get this ability to touch all the flash points of his emotions? Why was it he had only questions while she seemed to have all the answers? He carved away at his chop wishing he could parse his life as easily. They enjoyed the rest of the meal in silence, both complimenting the taste of the vegetables and the pork with the wine.

When they finished, Victoria apologized for not having any dessert, offering him a bowl of ice cream, which he declined, and they carried the dirty dishes to the kitchen and set about washing and drying.

"Didn't your conversation with Ross offer any insightful relief?" She asked casually, handing him the heavy iron frying pan for drying.

"If you can call his pleasure at boffing a married woman with little interference from her husband a component of relief, I suppose so."

"Jean and Allen have an understanding. His trifles with Tiffany are equally accepted." Nigel put the pan down, tossed the tea towel over his shoulder and leaned on the counter.

"These are circumstances for which I seem to have been the catalyst." He said with annoyance, watching her profile intently, goading her for a response.

Victoria released the sink drain, swishing the suds away with her fingers before answering. "There's an old saying, Nigel; when you're in charge of the herd – make sure you keep a cattle-list."

He flipped the towel onto the counter and strode away. "For God's sake, Victoria! What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

"I'm not really sure," she said blithely, mocking his anger, "it just seemed apropos." He turned back, staring at her, surrendering gradually to her amused smirk until they were both laughing aloud and wiping back tears.