Mrs. York walked into the salon, looking like the epitome of a grandmother. With her white hair twisted back from her face and pink cheeks, she could have auditioned for a part in a play as Mrs. Claus.
“Hello, Mrs. York,” Abby greeted.
Ivy waved at her from the shampoo bowls, sending a big smile as she cleaned the sinks.
“Good morning, dear,” she said as she sat in Abby’s chair. She smiled, her blue eyes crinkling.
“You look lovely today, Mrs. York. Blue really becomes you,” Abby said.
“Thank you. I have a fondness for this blouse. It’s comfortable, but not too warm for the summer heat.”
Ivy walked toward the front door after she finished with the sinks. “I’m getting coffee. Anybody want some?”
A round of “no” was heard, so Ivy left.
Mrs. York and Abby walked to the shampoo bowls.
