Chapter 2: The Price of Keeping the Peace
“Get away from her!””
My voice echoed through the salon as I dropped to my knees beside my mother.
Miriam sat crumpled against the wall, one hand pressed to the back of her head. Her hat had rolled beneath a nearby chair, and the remaining strands of her hair stuck out in every direction.
“Mom, look at me.”” I cupped her face.
“Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt?””
“I'm all right,” she whispered.
“You hit the wall.””
“Naomi, please. I'm all right.””
She wasn't.
Her fingers trembled against mine, and a red mark was already spreading along the back of her neck.
I turned toward Waylon.
He stood several feet away, breathing heavily, while his sister clung to Brandon's arm.
“You shoved a fifty-eight-year-old woman,” I said.
Waylon scoffed.
“She got in my way.””
“She was trying to stop you from attacking me!””
“Maybe you should've thought about that before you cut my sister's hair.””
I stared at him.
For a second, the absurdity of his answer was almost enough to make me forget that my mother had just been hurt.
Brianna sniffled into Brandon's shoulder.
“Waylon, look at me. Look what she did.””
He turned toward her immediately.
“Who did this to you?””
“Naomi!””
His face tightened.
“I swear to God, I'll—”
“Finish that sentence,” I said, pulling out my phone.
“Go ahead. I'll record it.””
Waylon stopped.
I dialed the venue's security desk and asked them to send someone to the salon. Then I called emergency services because my mother had hit her head, and I wasn't willing to gamble with her safety just to preserve anyone's wedding schedule.
Brandon finally looked in our direction.
“Naomi, hang up.””
I ignored him.
“Naomi, I'm serious. Don't make this bigger than it needs to be.””
I ended the call after giving the dispatcher our location.
“Bigger?”” I repeated.
Brandon rubbed his forehead.
“We have guests arriving in less than two hours. We have a ceremony, a reception, and hundreds of dollars in deposits tied to today. Can we please handle this like adults?””
My mother closed her eyes.
I could see her trying to disappear into herself.
That was what our family had learned to do after my father died. When someone was cruel, we made excuses. When someone was selfish, we gave them another chance. When someone hurt us, we asked ourselves whether responding would cause more trouble than enduring it.
But I had spent twenty-six years watching my mother make herself smaller so other people could remain comfortable.
I was done.
“Mom,” I said softly, “can you stand?””
She nodded.
I helped her up, keeping one arm around her waist.
Then Brandon's mother, Patricia, stepped forward.
She was wearing a cream designer suit and the diamond earrings her husband had given her for their thirtieth anniversary. She looked at my mother as though the entire incident had been caused by an unpleasant stain on an expensive carpet.
“This is getting completely out of hand,” Patricia announced.
I turned toward her.
“Your son's friend cut my mother's hair against her wishes, your wife's friend's brother shoved her into a wall, and you're worried about things getting out of hand?””
Patricia's lips tightened.
“Brianna has known Brandon since they were children. She would never intentionally hurt someone.””
Mom spoke quietly.
“I asked her to stop.””
Patricia waved a hand.
“People say things when they're upset.””
My mother stared at her.
“I said it three times.””
For a moment, Patricia looked uncomfortable.
Then she turned to me.
“And you retaliated by cutting Brianna's hair. You are both responsible for what happened.””
“Both?””
“Yes. You behaved just as badly.””
I laughed once, without humor.
“Did you see the scissors in Brianna's hand when she cut Mom's hair?””
“No, but—”
“Did you hear Mom asking her to stop?””
“I wasn't here.””
“Then perhaps you should stop explaining what happened.””
Patricia's cheeks reddened.
Brandon's father, Richard, stepped forward before she could answer.
“That's enough. Naomi, you owe Brianna an apology.””
I stared at him.
He continued as though he were settling a business dispute.
“You have every right to be upset. But you don't have the right to destroy someone else's appearance because you're angry. Apologize, and we'll put this behind us.””
I glanced at my mother.
Her eyes were fixed on the floor.
“Has anyone asked whether Mom is hurt?”” I said.
Richard sighed.
“I'm sure she's fine.””
“You're sure?””
He checked his watch.
“Look, we've paid for a substantial part of this wedding. There are guests traveling from other states. We cannot allow a personal disagreement to destroy an entire event.””
There it was.
Money.
Reputation.
The sacred ceremony.
Everything mattered except the person who had been hurt.
Brandon came toward me, his voice lowering into the gentle tone he used when he wanted to make me doubt my own judgment.
“Naomi, sweetheart, listen to me. I know you're angry.””
“Don't call me sweetheart.””
He blinked.
“Excuse me?””
“You don't get to speak to me like we're having a minor disagreement about flowers.””
His jaw tightened.
“I'm trying to save our wedding.””
“Then why are you standing beside Brianna instead of my mother?””
“Because Brianna is hysterical!””
“And Mom is bleeding!””
The room went silent.
Brandon glanced toward Miriam.
Only then did he seem to notice the red mark near her hairline.
“Is she actually bleeding?””
I looked at him in disbelief.
“You didn't even check.””
“I was dealing with the situation.””
“You were comforting Brianna.””
“Because you attacked her!””
I stepped closer.
“And what do you call what she did to my mother?””
He opened his mouth, then looked toward his parents.
That small movement told me more than any answer could have.
He wanted someone else to rescue him from the question.
Richard obliged.
“This conversation is pointless. Naomi, apologize to Brianna. Your mother can have her hair repaired later.””
Mom made a small sound beside me.
I turned to her.
“Are you okay?””
She nodded, but her eyes had filled with tears again.
“I didn't want any of this,” she whispered.
I wrapped my arms around her.
“You didn't cause any of this.””
Brianna sniffed.
“Funny. You don't seem to care how I feel.””
I lifted my head.
She was watching me from Brandon's side, one hand resting on his chest. Her tears had stopped, and her expression had shifted into something colder.
“You know what the worst part is?”” she said.
“Brandon told me you would react like this.””
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?””
She tilted her head.
“He said you get emotional when things don't go your way. He said I'd need to be patient with you today.””
I turned toward Brandon.
He looked away.
“Is that true?””
“Naomi, don't twist this.””
“Did you tell her that?””
“I was trying to prepare her for your behavior.””
“My behavior?””
He rubbed his face.
“You've always had a problem with Brianna. You look for reasons to be offended by her.””
I thought of every dinner at which Brianna had mocked my job. Every time she had called my mother's old-fashioned clothes embarrassing. Every weekend she had demanded Brandon's attention and then accused me of being controlling if I wanted to spend time with my fiancé.
I'd told myself these were small things.
I had believed that love meant choosing my battles carefully.
Now I wondered whether Brandon had mistaken my patience for permission.
A security guard arrived, followed by a paramedic. The guard separated Waylon from us while the paramedic examined Mom and recommended that she go to the hospital for further evaluation.
“I'll take her,” I said.
Brandon caught my hand.
“Wait.””
I pulled free.
“We need to talk about the wedding.””
“No, we don't.””
His face changed.
“Naomi, don't be childish.””
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I noticed the small movement of Brianna's hand.
She had slipped something into her handbag.
A white envelope.
I might not have paid attention if I hadn't seen my mother's name printed across the front.
*MIRIAM ELLIS — PERSONAL.*
I knew that handwriting.
It belonged to my mother.
“What's that?”” I asked.
Brianna froze.
Brandon immediately stepped in front of her.
“Nothing.””
“Why does Brianna have an envelope with my mother's name on it?””
Patricia looked sharply at her son.
Richard stopped talking.
And Brianna's expression changed for the first time that morning.
She wasn't angry anymore.
She was afraid.
I reached toward the handbag.
Brianna jerked it away.
“Don't touch my things!””
“Give me the envelope.””
“No.””
I looked at Brandon.
He was no longer checking his watch.
He was watching the envelope.
His face had gone pale.
“Naomi,” he said quietly, “leave it alone.””
I stared at him.
“What is in that envelope?””
He swallowed.
“Something that doesn't concern you.””
I had never heard him speak those words to me before.
Not once in three years.
And suddenly, I understood that the hair, the humiliation, and even the ruined morning might have been only the beginning.
Because my mother had brought something to that salon.
May you like
Something Brianna had taken.
And my fiancé seemed more frightened of that envelope than he was of losing me.
