The bell above the door rings and she looks up to see a younger woman, maybe in her early twenties, enter the parlour.
She looks around, seeming confused and says, "This decorating is rather odd. Where are you from?" The last part was directed to the woman behind the counter.
The parlour woman smiles. "I am from a place that you would have never heard of."
The lady at the door cocks her head. "And where might that be?"
The parlour woman looks to her left. "I am less from a where and more from a when. I am from the year 2020."
The woman at the door's eyes widen. "Are you a time traveler?"
The parlour woman smiles again. "Yes I am. But let's not get too off topic here. Have you come to get your hair done?"
Seeming to come out of a daze, the woman in the doorway moves further into the store and to the counter where the parlour woman stands. "Yes. I would like to get my hair cut."
The parlour woman nods and beckons for the now woman near the counter to follow. The women make their way to a salon chair and the parlour woman tells the other woman to sit.
"What is your name, miss?" the parlour woman asks.
"My name is Lillian Jones. What about you?" she asks. "What's your name?"
The parlour woman sighs. "I have gone by many names. Which one would you like to call me?"
Lillian Jones gives this some thought and soon makes a decision. "Is your birth name alright?"
The parlour woman smiles. "The very first name I was given — my birth name — is Anastasia Elizabeth Huntington. It was my great grandmother's name."
"What about your surname? Where did that come from?"
The parlour woman's smile turns sad. "That was my first husband's surname. He died six months after we had gotten married."
Lillian Jones now noticed the rings on the parlour woman's fingers. There were six in total, but only one stood out as odd to her.
"What about the ring on your middle finger?" She points to the parlour woman's hand. "Where did that one come from?"
The parlour woman's smile turns into a sly smirk. "That one is from my third husband. He was very, very rich. He owned an engagement ring company but, ironically, new nothing about how to run an engagement, more or less a marriage. So I stole a total of one hundred and seventy-eight rings from him. This is just one of them."
Lillian Jones looks at the parlour woman in the mirror in front of her with wide eyes. "What could a man ever do to deserve that?"
The parlour woman's smirk disappeared. "He treated me like I was his servant, not his wife. He treated me like I was only there to answer to his beck and call. So I stole from him."
Lillian Jones looks down at her hands. "My mother wants me to marry this rich man that she introduced me to two days ago, but I don't want to! I want to be able to choose who I love and i want a man who will love me instead of a man who is only marrying me to make himself more wealthy." She sighs. "The reason I came here was because I want you to cut my hair short. I still want to look like a woman, but I don't want long hair anymore. And I especially don't want it because that is the first thing that man said to me. He said that he loved my hair, so I'm getting it cut off."
The parlour woman smiles at her client. "Would you like some advice?"
Lillian Jones nods, so the parlour woman continues. "I think you should stay with this man until you get engaged. Once he gives you a ring, you will run. Run as far from him as possible, but before he gives you the ring, you must take something from him. Have it be a jewel or a safe of money, take it with you on your journey to freedom."
"But what if I get caught?"
"Drop everything that you don't need and come find me. I will only be in this year for another two weeks, but I believe that you will be able to free yourself of this man."
Lillian Jones nods and smiles at the parlour woman. "Thank you, Anastasia. You don't know how much this means to me."
The parlour woman's smile deepens. "It's my pleasure, dear. Now, let's get started on this haircut of yours."
x x x
Lillian Jones begins to hand the parlour woman some money for the haircut, but the woman stops her.
"Save your money for when you escape from him. I don't need it."
"Alright," Lillian Jones says. "Are you sure there is no way I can pay you back?"
The parlour woman smiles and opens a drawer on her side of the counter. She rummages around for a few moments before pulling out a ring. "This was the second thing I ever stole from him, and it is now yours." The parlour woman grasps Lillian Jones' hand and places the ring in her palm. "The one thing that I want you to do as payment is to take this ring with you on your journey, and once you find the right man for you, give this ring to his mother and say that it is from an old friend."
Lillian Jones picks up the ring and places it on her right middle finger. "What do you mean by that? 'It's from an old friend'?"
"That, my dear, I cannot tell you. I just hope that you are able to free yourself from this man of whom you are to marry." The parlour woman leans across the counter to place a kiss on her client's forehead. "Farewell, Lillian Jones, and may the wisps of time be kind to you on your journey to freedom."
YOU ARE READING
The Queen's Curls
General Fiction(note: this does not take place in Italy) A cute story about a woman whose love for helping strangers leads to her meeting almost every kind of person.