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like it if some middle-aged wannabe country singer with hardly any hair comes in and says, ‘Vada Faith, sweetheart, can you make me look like Carrie Underwood?’ I want to say do I look like a miracle worker here. Instead I hold my tongue and dye her hair. Then I try to fool her into thinking the new hair do is going to get her a record deal in Nashville.”
    “You make people feel better about themselves. That’s the point. It’s important to them. It’s a great service.”
    “Oh sure! You know poor Sissy Snyder. She doesn’t have one thing going for her and you know it. She colored her own hair last week, over processed it, and then came to me. “I want to look like a movie star, Vada Faith. Can you give me that Angelina Jolie look?
    “I nearly cried. Instead I jumped in and fixed that mess then convinced her she looked just like Angelina Jolie. She was happy as a coon in a cornfield when she walked out of the shop door, and how do you think I felt?”
    “You should have felt good about it. You don’t have to go and have a baby for some stranger because of Sissy Snyder.”
    “What about Marge Randolph,” I continued, hoping he would see my point soon because I was running out of stories. “You know Marge is a trial. ‘All I want,’ she says, ‘is a style that will take twenty years off my face and twenty pounds off my butt.’ Well, don’t we all? Can’t you understand? These customers are driving me crazy! Not to mention my sister, Queen Joy Ruth.”
    My voice had grown louder with frustration. “I’m tired of standing on my feet performing hair miracles on the women of Shady Creek, West Virginia. Surrogacy will give me a chance to make someone happy and it will last beyond a weekly hair style and it will make me happy in the bargain.”
    “Well, you already make me happy and that’s lasted. You take a few days off now, honey. You just go in and tell Joy Ruth you need a vacation. Maybe we’ll get a sitter and go to the mountains fishing.”
    “I do not want to go to the mountains fishing!”
    Whoopee, I thought, and girded up for another round. “This isn’t about time off. It’s about going nowhere. I’m at a dead end. I’m tied to this old house that’s been in your family since the ice age.”
    “Not the ice age.” He puffed up. “The Victorian era and you know I love this old house. Grandma Belle was born right in that upstairs bedroom.” I cringed when he pointed to the bedroom above our heads.
    “I know but the house is falling down around us. It needs a new roof and the list goes on. We’ll never be able to afford all the repairs. Something new would be better. No wonder your mother let your grandma pawn this place off on you. Painting the porch furniture won’t help.”
    He looked pained when I spoke of the furniture he’d painted for the back porch.
    I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. However I was growing desperate. I knew the old house meant the world to him. I wanted something better for my family and I wanted it while I could enjoy it.
    “Do you know what Grandma Belle would say?” He asked, looking hurt.
    “I know,” I sighed. “She’d say to bloom where we are planted.”
    “Yep.” He grinned. “She left that sign by the back door to remind us.”
    “I know,” I said, thinking to myself whoop-de-do and then I tried another approach because I realized that attacking the house would not win him over. “You said not long ago, the girls were too tied to me. I know that now. I need to do more for me. Get out and away from them some. This is just what I’ll be doing. You know I love you and the girls. I just see a chance here to do something special to help someone else. You help people all the time. You never ask my permission. Why can’t I help someone? It will help us too. We’ll have the down payment we need for that house out in Crystal Springs.”
    “I don’t want a new house out in Crystal Springs.” He stared at me as if he’d never seen me