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up, swaying a bit.
    When she took the first step, however, she lost her balance. Luckily, Clayton
    was nearby and his arms shot out to steady her.
    Wanting to give her some privacy, he stood in her kitchen facing the patio
    door looking out at the backyard. He looked around the kitchen. It was very
    cheery and everything was clean and neat and in its place. He heard her pick
    up the phone and punch in a few numbers. After a brief silence he heard the
    dial tone change to a loud hum, and he turned around. She was bent over the
    counter, her head drooped between her shoulder blades with the receiver
    gripped tightly in one hand. Clayton walked over to her and gently pried her
    fingers from the receiver, loosening her grip on the phone. Looking at the
    keypad, he found the salon’s phone number, which had been programmed
    into the memory. Pressing the appropriate quick dial number, he waited as
    the phone rang three times before a female voice came on the line.
    “Nu U Salon.”
    He cradled the phone between his left shoulder and ear, freeing his right
    hand, which he laid lightly across the back of Mrs. Simpson’s neck.
    “I need to speak with Cynthia Edwards,” he said into the receiver.
    30

    Cynthia Edward’s voice came through the receiver, very professional with
    just a hint of confusion.
    “This is she, may I help you?”
    “Mrs. Edwards are you there by yourself or is someone else in the shop
    with you?”
    The confusion in her voice quickly turned condescending. After a brief
    pause, she asked impatiently.
    “Who is this?”
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Edwards, this is Clayton Marshall. I’m a friend of your
    nephew, Craig Simpson,” he said in explanation. “We met a few months ago
    at your sister’s house. I’m afraid I have some very bad news. Craig was
    killed earlier this morning in an attempted robbery.”
    He heard a muffled cry. Picturing Mrs. Edward’s reaction, Clayton broke
    the lengthy silence that followed.
    “Mrs. Edwards are you there? Ma’am, please let me speak to whoever is
    there with you.”
    He hadn’t taken his eyes off Mrs. Simpson during his conversation with her
    sister. The hand that lay against the back of her neck fell away now, as Vi
    turned to face him and gently reached for the phone. He listened as she
    spoke into the phone, alternately crying and trying to console her sister at the
    same time. When she hung up, Vi turned around to find Clayton standing
    nearby and went without hesitation into his embrace. As her smooth hands
    clutched at his shirt front, she whispered to him needlessly, “She’s coming.”
    With his arms around her, the smell of her hand lotion became etched in his
    mind as they stood in her kitchen. He realized it wasn't a rose scent after all,
    it was more a naturally fresh scent, with a hint of flowers and very light. As
    he stood holding her, other memories were stored away in Clay’s mind. He
    memorized the exact angle of the afternoon sun as it spilled through the open
    patio doors, gently caressing the top of her head, turning her copper
    highlights to spun gold. The distant hum of a lawn mower, being used just a
    few houses away, reached his ears. The scent of fresh cut grass was
    paramount on the afternoon breeze coming through the kitchen window. The
    refrigerator door was cluttered with numbers and refrigerator magnets. One
    of those magnets held a handwritten note – Janae, Delta Flight 104, 2:35 pm.
    Another magnet held a picture of Craig smiling broadly and standing next to
    his brother and sister at a lake.
    Unaware that her face had become stuck to the side of his neck, she moved
    slightly trying to compose herself. His own shirt, which never had much
    chance to dry from before in the hallway, was totally plastered against his
    chest. He spoke in hushed tones, trying his best to ease her pain. When there
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    was nothing left to say, he held her in silence, so wrapped up in her grief that
    his was long forgotten.

    While Clayton and Vi