"My prices are fair. Here's your wedding band. Can't do much with that."

Gloria turned her palm up. He placed it in the center. It was already cold. She'd forgotten they weren't attached. Hadn't thought about that. And now she wasn't sure what she was going to do with it. Maybe put it with other keepsakes. Maybe. She didn't know. She slid it inside the zippered part of her purse. Outside the shop she snapped the kids into their car seats and got behind the wheel. As she drove, Gloria kept staring at her ringless finger. Her entire left hand felt naked. Cold. Despite how hard the sun was trying to warm it up.

As soon as they arrived at Oasis, the girls waved hello and dashed straight to the area where two empty pedicure chairs awaited them. They opened their bags and started eating those McNuggets and fries like they were about to disappear. One of the new hires-Ming Su-would paint flowers on their fingers and toes. Probably pink and blue ones.

Today was Old School Saturday, which was why Jackie Wilson's "Baby Workout!" had just finished playing. After the first few bars, Gloria recognized Barbara Mason's "Hello Stranger." It was one of her favorite songs. "Hi, everybody." Instead of the usual enthusiastic "Hey, Ms. Glo," everybody just nodded and said hello with their eyes. Something was going on in here. Gloria felt two different kinds of vibes at work. There was a stillness in here she wasn't used to. And despite the music, it was too quiet. No one was talking.

Sister Monroe was tapping her feet and rolling her eyes at Twyla, who looked like she might have a good forty-five minutes to go before she'd be finished doing a weave. This wasn't it. Joline was talking on her cell phone with an ear piece, chewing gum and putting individual blond braids on a woman who was darker than an espresso. Nothing unusual about this.

There were quite a few regulars, some asleep, some under hot hooded dryers. Others were reading Jet Jet and and Essence, Black Enterprise Essence, Black Enterprise and and People. People. There was, however, one woman Gloria didn't recognize. She reminded her of somebody. She was sitting on the sofa, clutching a tissue in each hand. It was obvious she'd been crying. Her wig was balled up in her lap. Inside out. A knitted skullcap sat tightly on her matted gray hair. There was, however, one woman Gloria didn't recognize. She reminded her of somebody. She was sitting on the sofa, clutching a tissue in each hand. It was obvious she'd been crying. Her wig was balled up in her lap. Inside out. A knitted skullcap sat tightly on her matted gray hair.

Joseph stopped cutting his male customer's hair and gave him an "I'll be right back" tap on the shoulder. He motioned Gloria with his finger and headed toward her office. He abruptly stopped, pivoted and pointed to a stack of photographs: "Don't let anybody touch those until I come back, okay?"

"You let everybody else look at them, why not me?" Sister Monroe asked.

"I didn't mean to be rude. I didn't think you'd be interested." He walked back and handed her the photos.

"Who are these cute little boys?"

"Those are me and my husband's sons. We just adopted them."

Gloria gave Joseph a great big hug then took some of the pictures from Sister Monroe. "You guys finally did it! I'm so happy for you, baby! We all know this was a long process. But now you're proud parents! Congratulations, Joseph."

"Wait a minute, now," Sister Monroe said. "You mean to tell me they let faggots adopt little boys?"

Everybody in the salon stopped doing what they were doing and gave her the evil eye. It was Gloria who decided to handle this before Joseph could. She walked right over and stood so close, Sister Monroe could probably smell Gloria's breath. "You know what, Sister Monroe? I've been tolerating you for years. But you've pushed the envelope this time. This is it. I would appreciate it if you would take your business elsewhere. We cannot nor do we want to do your hair anymore since you don't seem to know what respect means or when you're making a complete fool out of yourself, not to mention being rude as hell."

"All I said was . . ."

Gloria turned to the patrons and her stylists. "Does anybody see any faggots in here?"

Every single person in there-including the woman who'd been crying-either shook their head no or came out and said, "Hell no!"

"For somebody who's supposed to be so full of the holy spirit, you are one of the biggest hypocrites I've ever met. Now please, go. I mean it. And read the sign on your way out," Gloria said, putting her hands on her hips.

Sister Monroe didn't say a word. She did exactly what she was told. Everybody, but no one more than Twyla, was tickled pink. She didn't have to have that woman in her chair, telling her how to do her job.

Joseph gave Gloria a high five on the way to her office. "Thank you, baby," he said. "And good riddance, Johnnie Lee. This was a long time coming."

"Johnnie Lee my foot."

"Anyway, you see the woman sitting on the sofa?"

"Yes."

"She's here without an appointment but somebody close to her has apparently passed on and she needed to get her hair done to go to the funeral. She said your friend Dottie recommended that she come see you."

"Did she really?" Gloria said, looking out into the salon. The woman looked lost, like she needed more than her hair done.

"I'll go talk to her. I just need a minute to make a quick call. Would you mind telling her I'll be with her in a few minutes?"

"Of course I don't mind. Oh. You just missed Savannah. She was in here at the crack of dawn and none other than Miss Blond Sleep-In herself was on time! Joline gave her some kind of new twists and added a little hair for body, and girlfriend is ready for what is apparently a hot blind date tomorrow, not to mention the fact that she's on her way to Paris. She is too tough! I've got one more surprise for you."

Gloria wanted to say she'd already had two that made her day. Her granddaughter had said two words. She didn't know how or why and she wasn't about to question it. And now Joseph and Javier were finally daddies. She didn't feel like waiting for the third surprise. "Tell me what it is now, Joseph? Come on, baby. It's been a long day."

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure I found us the perfect space! I e-mailed you about twenty pictures, plus the floor plan, which you will not believe. Check them out as soon as you get a chance. If you like what you see we can go take a look. Like tomorrow!" He held up his sons' pictures and Gloria winked at him. She dialed Tarik's cell phone. "Hey, Ma. How's it going?"

"Tarik, when did Nickida go to jail? And for what?"

"Let me put it this way, Ma. She's been busy in more ways than I ever imagined. Which explains a lot."

"Could you get to the damn point, Tarik? I have a customer who's not in the best shape and I can't talk. The girls are getting their nails and toes polished. Wait a minute! I heard Diamond talk! Have you ever heard her speak?"

"Yes, I have."

"Well, why couldn't somebody tell me she could talk?"

"Because she doesn't do it very often. What did she say?"

"Thank you. She said thank you. I almost had a heart attack when I heard her. Anyway, what did Nickida do and what does this all mean for you and the kids? That's all I want to know."

"Well, she's been helping Luther do a little distributing of his goods and she's been fired by the IRS and is being investigated for purportedly creating her own little repayment plans on the side."

"You mean she's been doing that under-the-table kind of stuff?"

"Yes, indeed, which explains her so-called raises. This is a federal offense, Ma. I couldn't help her out of this even if I wanted to."

"I'm so sorry, Tarik. I really, truly am sorry. About all of it. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Me and my kids will be fine. Most likely Brass is going to be staying with us, too. I can't leave him over there with that lowlife he thinks is his father when he's not his biological."

"You mean to tell me you've known all this time?"

"Of course I did. But since Luther claimed him, I went along with it. Until he got ugly. Brass is my my son." son."

"I hope this all works out for the best. Tarik. Baby. I have to go for now. Someone's waiting for me. I'll see you in a couple of hours. Don't rush." After she hung up, Gloria shook her head. "Lord have mercy on us all."

She walked out to the woman sitting on the sofa. "Hello, I'm Gloria. And what's your name?"

"I'm Marlene. Dottie's baby sister."

"Nice to meet you," Gloria said. "I knew you reminded me of somebody. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Can I offer you something cool to drink?"

"That would be nice."

"I'll get it," Twyla said. "Is bottled water okay?"

Marlene nodded.

Blaze came running out and stood next to Gloria. "Excuse me, Gawa. Diamond is getting her toes done first. I'm next. Hello," she said to Marlene.

"Hello, baby."

"Why are you crying?"

"Oh, sometimes things make you sad."

"I know. I get sad, too. What made you sad?"

"Well, my sister just died."

"You mean Dottie is dead?" Gloria asked to be sure.

"Who shot her?" Blaze asked.

"Nobody, baby. She died in her sleep. She's in Heaven now."

"So is Grandpa Marvin. Maybe she could tell him hello for me and Diamond and Stone and Brass."

"I'm sure she will."

"I am so sorry to hear this, Marlene. I just saw Dottie not that long ago."

"I know. She was so happy to see you. She talked about how good you looked and how you wanted to start a whole new chapter of Black Women on the Move with those other friends of yours she always thought so highly of."

"Really?" Gloria felt terrible. She had called Dottie that awful B B word. Never again would it slip and pass her lips. word. Never again would it slip and pass her lips.

"She'd been telling me to get rid of this wig and come over here to Oasis and you would fix me right up. I know I should've called to make an appointment but I'm not thinking straight. Me and my sister have lived together for the last thirty-one years. Now she's gone."

Gloria rubbed her arm to let her know it was okay. "Why don't you let me get you a smock and you come on back here to the sink. I'll give you a long shampoo and massage your scalp and give you a deep conditioner and a hot oil treatment. Then maybe a good cut and a nice new style. Would you like that?"

"I'll take whatever you want to give me, sugar," Marlene said as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Gloria turned the water on and tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot. "Thank you," Marlene said. And squeezed Gloria's hand.

Blind Date

Brunch is what we agreed to. At one of my favorite resort hotels. It's on a cliff and overlooks the entire valley of Phoenix. Today is so clear I can actually see it. I'm driving up the side of this mountain like a tourist. I feel great. In fact, I would go so far as to say I'm stoked. None of which has anything to do with Jasper. I leave for Paris in three days. I've already packed about ten books. They're too heavy. Some probably won't make this trip. I can't even sleep in my bed because it's covered with clothes. I don't care. I can't decide what to take. I want to make sure everything I wear projects what I'm feeling and makes a statement about who I am when I walk down those Parisian streets.

I valet park. I'm tempted to check my makeup and hair in the ladies' room, but convince myself I haven't changed since I left home twenty minutes ago. I'm wearing something forgettable. A peach top. Cantaloupe pants. Gauze. Layered to camouflage my stomach and my behind. I don't want Jasper to get any ideas I'm trying to lure him. I'm also starving, as I forgot to eat breakfast. I was too busy trying on shoes. Most for comfort, a few with heels. I have every intention of doing in Paris what I hardly ever do in Phoenix. Dance. Hear live music. Walk. Read a whole book. Eat out alone. And be still.

I'm also relieved. Bernie's on her way to Palm Springs. She sent the three of us an e-mail at six o'clock this morning, said we probably wouldn't hear from her for the next twenty-eight days and not to worry. John was driving her. How about that? I used to hate him almost as much as I did James. Unlike James, John has redeemed himself. We're all praying Bernie's able to break free from those pills and that the time she spends at that place is what she needs to jump-start her way back.

And then there's Miss Robin. Word on the street is she ran into a blast from the past and has been tweeting ever since. "We have a connection," she wrote in the subject line of an e-mail I was all set to delete because I thought it was another of her stupid jokes. However, my instincts told me to open it. "Michael is the same kind, sweet, thoughtful man he always was. There have been quite a few major improvements in other areas, if you get my drift. I like him. A lot. I particularly like what he stands for. He's been making me laugh, which is pretty hard to do, considering my employment status. He also suggested I not rush to look for another job. That I give myself more credit. You guys have pretty much been telling me the same thing. I'm getting there. Sparrow likes him, too. So do Romeo and Juliet, which is always a good sign. They can smell a scumbag. Michael remembers you guys and hopes we can all have dinner one day soon. And guess what? He still dances! I think I might want to keep him. He makes me feel good inside. At our age, it doesn't take a long courtship to know if your key fits. And Savannah, please don't snicker or lecture me this time. Be happy for me." I responded with three smiley faces and one of those pumping red hearts.

I suppose I should be nervous, but I'm not. If I were secretly praying Jasper might be husband number two, maybe I would be. I don't care if I ever get married again. That much I do know. I just want to get this over with so I can get home and pack a little more. I haven't even considered jewelry. I already have an exit strategy. If he turns out to be a creepy crawler or acts like a nerdy white guy because he's a surgeon, I'll be respectful and figure out a nice way to wade through the forty-five minutes to an hour I've set aside before thanking him for a lovely meal and yes, maybe we could get together again sometime. In case he turns out to be a nice guy, maybe I'll make a new friend. I don't have many of those of the male variety. I hope his teeth are straight. And white. If not, they could turn into my focal point which would make it difficult not to stare. Doctors and dentists are notorious for having jacked-up teeth. Why is that? I always wondered.

I don't see him anywhere inside. I do, however, see the back of a black man in a pink polo shirt taking a sip from a glass of something. He's outside on the terrace. "Hello, Jasper," I say and hold out my hand. He stands up, shakes my hand like he hasn't seen me in years.

"Nice to finally meet you, Savannah. For a minute there, I thought I might be getting stood up."

"That would be rude, Jasper. I was raised better."

"Well, hats off to your parents for good home training. Do you mind sitting out here? Can't beat this view, can we?"

"I was thinking about that on the drive up here. This is fine."

I'm surprised Jasper is more handsome in person than he is in his picture. Which is clearly dated. His hair is still black and kinky but there's a whole new family of gray making a home along his temples. I find it grossly unfair that God rigged this whole thing so men seem to get better-looking as they get older and women simply age out. Why is it that their wrinkles make them sexy and more distinguished while ours make us look old and unattractive?

"Have you ever eaten here?" he asks.

"Yes, but it's been a while." I didn't want to say what I was thinking: that it was with the son-of-a-bitch I was married to even though he was lovable back then. I remind myself to smile. I don't want to come across as if I'm just going through the motions. At the same time, I'm not interested in trying to get below the surface with this man. I don't care how good he looks.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asks.

"They used to make the absolute best Caesar salad."

"That sounds good," he says. "I'll have the same. How about a glass of wine?"

"It's a little early for me. A glass of sparkling water with lime would be nice."

He flags a waiter. "So, Savannah. Have you ever been on a blind date?"

"No, I haven't. What about you?"

"Once."

"Was it weird?"

"Well, that's a matter of opinion. I married her."

"So it worked out pretty well."

"For about fourteen years it was fine."

He orders our salads and a large bottle of Pellegrino with lime on the side. So far, he seems pleasant enough. I still wonder if he's as normal as he appears to be. He probably has a dark side. You never see it at first. They always put their best foot forward out of the starting gate. Anything to get an A when the date is over. I've fallen for this tactic once too often. He's probably sizing me up, too, looking for my obvious flaws, or, like me, waiting for me to say the one stupid thing that will turn him off so he'll have to figure out how to tell Thora and Bert why he's not going to make that follow-up phone call.

"Thora told me you have two sons."

"Yep. Both in college. Maxwell's a freshman at NYU and Kenan's a sophomore at Boston U."

"That's where I went for undergrad!"

"You know, I do remember Thora mentioning that. Who knows, this could be a link we'll share forever. Wait. Don't take that the wrong way. I'm trying to loosen up. And failing."