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haircut, Amie. Your face is shaped like a square. It’ll make it fatter. Here’s what we’re going to do... .”
    â€œNo. We will not dye your hair that red color. It’s a terrible choice, Maureen. You’ll resemble a middle-aged clown. If people ask where you got your hair done, it’ll be bad for business. I’m going to dye your hair a golden blond... .”
    â€œWhat in heck happened to you, Addy? Did you stick your hair in a blender on high?”
    Miraculously, people keep coming back. She is blunt with me if it has been a while since I’ve been in. “Toni, stand still. I’m going to cut your hair so you won’t resemble a Russian sheepdog.”
    â€œThis is my and Jax’s first night out in a long time, Toni,” JJ said. “I need action. I need adventure. I need to feel like a woman again, not a mother of two teenage girls, so I need you and everyone else to play a part in our date fantasy. Listen up. Jax and I are going to meet at the bar and we’re going to pretend we don’t know each other and don’t have two teenagers together and aren’t dealing with his sick dad and business stress. He’s going to hit on me and pick me up. I’m going to introduce you.”
    â€œYou’re going to introduce me to Jax, even though you two have been married for eighteen years?”
    â€œYes. Except that his name isn’t going to be Jax. His name is going to be something else. It’ll be a surprise. And my name isn’t going to be JJ, it’s going to be Stephi. I’m telling everyone. We’re going to flirt and then I’m going to a hotel with him for a one-night stand. My parents are taking care of the kids.”
    â€œI can’t wait. Fun idea.”
    â€œI know, isn’t it? Stephi is going to get laid, not JJ. Stephi. Zoya and Tati are going to give me a black bustier and a gauzy tiny skirt, too. Hopefully Tati and Zoya will be dressed appropriately and not in their stripper clothes. It’s not necessary to always advertise their business, is it? Anyhow, gotta run, another client walked in and she looks like a tornado hit her.” She held the phone away and shouted, “Laurie, did you walk through a tornado? What the heck?” She turned back to the phone. “Be there or I will hunt you down. You won’t pretend you’re sick, or hide or say you have to work late again, right?”
    â€œI’m coming.” I was dreading it.
    â€œWe love you and miss you and we want the family to be together. All the Kozlovskys. That means you.” She hung up.
    â€œWe want everyone to be together” was a common phrase in our family. But we are together. All. The. Time.
    The third call was from my cousin Anya, an actress and a hypochondriac who said she was sure she had “Gangrene. In my toes. Not a lot, but I think it’s growing. I think we can stop it before amputation. I hope.” Her voice wavered.
    Anya has thick, straight brown hair and golden cat eyes. She’s gorgeous. You would never guess at the head case beneath the beauty. “I like stage acting better than TV because I can lose it in front of people if the role calls for it. I mean, totally-freak-out lose it, scare-the-audience lose it, let-my-brain-out-of-my-head-and-let-it-run-up-and-down-the-aisles lose it.”
    I assured her that I thought her toes were fine, and she took a gulp of air and said, how are you, and I said, I’m fine.
    â€œYou’re not fine, Toni, I don’t think. You’re healthy fine. Physically. I worry about you. Worrying about you makes me more susceptible to colds. In fact, I’m not blaming you, but in the last two years I have gotten more colds. I know I was bordering on bird flu once, and another time I am sure I had symptoms for scarlet fever, and I do think my worry about you has caused them. Please stop making me worry. I hope you know if you want to talk, I’m