Chapter Eighteen
MYRTLE TURNED. “OH, hi Nicole.”
“Is everything all right? That bag looks heavy.”
Myrtle nodded. “The bagger double-bagged it though, so it won’t break.”
“I was more worried about you being able to carry it home,” said Nicole. “It doesn’t look like you have a car here or that anybody dropped you off.”
“That’s very sweet of you, my dear. But I’m really just fine. How are things with you?”
Nicole shrugged. “I guess things are moving along. Probate is taking forever. One of my clients mentioned that I should just go to the bank and take out a small personal loan and go ahead and move to Atlanta.”
“I see. So then, when probate goes through, you can pay off the loan. It does make sense. Are you going to be sorry to leave the salon? Or, actually, this type of business alto
