The Salon

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"Ah . . . "

The sound of a throat clearing drew Heather's attention away from the paperwork on her desk at Trommler Records. "Hey, Jacob. What's up?"

"It is Thursday, Heather. I wanted to leave about three so I can attend the salon."


"The salon at Rachel Hill's house. Surely you've heard of it? People come from all over to attend them."

Heather had to search her memory. "Hill. Hill. I know an Ashley Hill; she's on the geology survey team. But I don't remember a Rachel."

Jacob shook his head. "You amaze me, you up-timers. There's a treasure in your midst and you don't realize it. You should come with me, meet her. See the electric car."

"Oh. Her. I remember seeing the car. But I never met her. Grantville isn't that small and I was a kid back then." Heather wondered if he meant to ask her on a date. She liked Jacob, although his taste in music was horrible. On the other hand, his taste in music was one of the reasons Trommler Records had made such a splash. The oldies she preferred sounded like horrible screeching, at least that's what Jacob said.

"You should come."

"Sure. But I want to break for lunch now, then I'll come back and we'll go." Once Jacob nodded and left, Heather headed for the one place she knew she could get the low-down on anyone in town, the City Hall Coffee Shop. Cora would know all about Rachel Hill. Cora always knew everything about everybody.


"Come on, Jacob." Heather grinned over at Jacob, who didn't get nearly enough exercise, apparently. "It isn't that far and the road isn't all that tough to walk."

"We could have waited for the bus," Jacob grumbled. "Or a cart. Or a wagon."

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