Fifty Dollars
My daughter and grandson live in the Village of Niwot, an annex of Boulder. It is an idyllic place. At the time of this story, about twelve to fifteen years ago, the population of the village was approximately three hundred people. I used to visit often then. I went there for my grandson’s birthdays, his school ceremonies, and any excuse there was to see them. That particular trip, Peter and I had gone for Passover. Her cousin and her family were there that year as well. I had prepped some food in New York, froze it, and took it along for the celebration. We had a wonderful time. She had a large crowd and had done a fantastic job of hosting everyone. After the holidays, Peter returned home while I stayed behind for another week.
My daughter has a pond at the end of her property. Across the pond, there is a farm with cows, horses, and chickens. One could walk across the footbridge by the pond. On the right, the path led to the farm, where one could purchase farm-fresh eggs, milk, and butter, if one desired. On the left, the path led to the village square. There, one could find the basic amenities. There was a dry cleaner and a little supermarket. There also was a delightful French restaurant where we went for bouillabaisse a couple of times. The bouillabaisse was utterly delicious, by the way! One time we dined in their charming garden; another time we ate inside. There was a dry cleaner and a beauty salon. It was a tiny salon, no bigger than an average-sized room. There were two stations for styling hair; an upright hairdryer was situated next to them. Nestled in an alcove, in the corner, was a manicure table and two spots to wash hair. The place reminded me of the hair salon in the film, Fried Green Tomatoes, which had a salon very similar to that one.
The next week, it was time to return home. I had been there a fortnight; my hands and nails were a sight. I decided to walk down to the hair salon before I returned. I sauntered across my daughter’s garden, to the pond, and crossed the footpath. One path led to the farm, the other to the shops. I followed the path to where the few shops were located. It did not look like a commercial strip. The shops were made to appear like quaint little cottages. The surrounding area was inviting. There was an attractive garden-like area filled with foliage and flowers. I stopped to get my bearings and locate the beauty shop. Ah! There it was. There was an old-fashioned sign hanging above the door. I walked towards it and climbed a few steps. I pushed the door open. As I did so, a little bell announced my presence. Two female heads turned to look at me. One of them walked towards me.