Dale looked at me as if the floor had shifted beneath him.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Ashley was the first to move.
She took her phone out of her handbag and looked from Dale to me.
"Wait. You two know each other?"
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because she had spent months telling me intimate details about my marriage while I stood behind her with scissors in my hand.
Dale rubbed his forehead.
"Carol, this isn't what you think."
I had heard that sentence before.
Usually, it came after a bill I hadn't expected or a phone call he had taken outside.
Sometimes he said it before I had even asked a question.
For years, I had accepted it as an invitation to stop asking.
Not that afternoon.
"Then tell me what it is."
He glanced at Ashley.
She was staring at him now.
"You told me your wife never cared about the business," she said.
Dale shook his head.
"That's not the point right now."
"It was the point every Thursday when you talked about her."
I stood behind my counter and watched them discover each other in a way I never had.
Ashley had believed she knew Dale.
I had believed I knew him, too.
Neither of us had known the whole man.
He reached toward the folder.
I moved my hand onto its cover.
"Don't."
It was a small word.
I had never spoken to him that way before.
He stopped.
His face reddened.
"Carol, can we please discuss this privately?"
"No."
I heard my own voice and was surprised by how steady it sounded.
"You came here for a professional service. You brought documents that may affect my life. We can discuss them with the people who need to be present."
Dale looked toward the entrance.
He seemed to be calculating how quickly he could leave.
Then the curtain behind the shampoo area moved.
Patrice stepped out.
She carried her handbag in one hand and her phone in the other.
Dale stared at her.
"Who are you?"
"Patrice Moody. I'm Carol's attorney."
Ashley went pale.
Dale looked back at me.
"Your attorney?"
"Yes."
He laughed once, without humor.
"You hired a lawyer behind my back?"
I looked at the folder.
"You brought paperwork behind mine."
He had no answer.
Patrice moved beside me.
She did not touch the documents.
She did not raise her voice.
"Mr. Dale, I recommend that you leave the papers here for now while we determine what they are and what authority you have to sign them."
Dale shook his head.
"These are company documents."
"Then there should be no problem identifying their purpose and the people authorized to sign them."
He looked at her as if he wanted to argue.
But he had come expecting an easy appointment.
He had not expected questions.
Ashley stepped away from the counter.
"Tell me you didn't lie about everything."
Dale turned toward her.
"Not here."
"Where, then?"
Her voice had lost its sweetness.
"You told me she knew the business was struggling. You said she didn't care what happened to the company."
I watched her fingers twist around the strap of her handbag.
She had believed him because she wanted to.
I knew what that felt like.
Dale lowered his voice.
"This is between me and my wife."
Ashley looked at me.
"You're his wife?"
I nodded.
She pressed her lips together.
For a moment, she looked like the woman who had sat in my chair every Thursday, telling me about her condo and her ring.
Then she looked like somebody who had just discovered that the stories she enjoyed telling had a real person on the other side.
"Miss C, I didn't know."
"I believe you didn't know who I was."
She swallowed.
"I never would have said those things to you if I'd known."
I thought about all the times she had laughed at my expense without realizing it.
I thought about how easily she had described Dale's wife as a woman who didn't care.
"You said them because you believed them," I replied.
She looked down.
I wasn't going to comfort her.
Not then.
Dale reached for his sunglasses.
Patrice spoke before he could put them on.
"Please don't remove or alter any documents that may be relevant to this matter. Carol has not agreed to sign anything, and no notarization has taken place."
Dale's jaw tightened.
"I wasn't asking her to do anything improper."
"Then the documents can be reviewed properly."
I looked at the folder again.
I wanted to open it and read every page.
I wanted to know exactly what he had intended to do.
But Patrice had already warned me not to rush.
I had spent years letting Dale set the pace.
I didn't need to prove anything by hurrying now.
Dale picked up his sunglasses.
"I'm leaving."
"That's your choice," Patrice said.
He looked at me one last time.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
I almost answered.
Instead, I stepped away from the counter.
For once, I let him walk out without trying to make the situation easier for him.
Ashley remained near the door.
Her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying.
She looked at the ring on her finger.
Then she slipped her hand into her handbag.
I did not ask whether she intended to keep wearing it.
She followed Dale outside.
Through the front window, I watched them stand beside the white Lexus.
They were speaking, but I couldn't hear the words.
Dale gestured toward the truck.
Ashley shook her head.
For the first time since she had started coming to my salon, she did not look as if she knew what would happen next.
I turned back toward Patrice.
My hands were trembling.
She pulled out a chair.
"Sit down, Carol."
I sat.
The folder remained on the counter.
My notary stamp was beside it.
I looked at the two ordinary objects and understood something I should have understood years earlier.
A signature could be written in a second.
The consequences could last for years.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Patrice Asked Me Not to Guess What the Documents Meant, So We Began With the Pages Dale Had Expected Me to Stamp
The Woman Who Kept Coming Back Every Thursday, Never Knowing How Much Her Casual Stories Were Costing Me
Part 9 of 24
