Chapter Thirty-five
CropMelissa’s easy snort of laughter lightened the mood and Hana smiled. “Sorry,” Melissa acknowledged. “There’s nothing funny about a hairdresser becoming a police officer. I just didn’t expect the punchline.”
“Amy is lovely,” Hana affirmed. “My daughter won’t let me cut her hair anymore, not after an accident with her fringe. Either I drive to Hamilton every couple of months or Amy visits us. Logan takes the boys to the local barber.” She watched as Melissa fitted a floppy, wide-brimmed sun hat over her crown and wished she’d also planned ahead and brought a hat.
“I’m in a support group,” Melissa said. She slammed the rear door of her Landrover and pushed the keys into the patterned pocket in the front of her dress. “As you perceived, visits to hairdressing salons
