The Island of Heavenly Daze by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2010-09-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

On Sunday morning, Winslow lingered in the house until long after his usual departure time, then bent to check his reflection in the kitchen window. Though Edith was still doing her best to ignore the toupee, after three days he was finally beginning to feel as if it were a part of him. He had deliberately remained out of sight Friday and Saturday, giving himself time to become accustomed to the hairpiece, and he was pleased to discover that it adhered to his scalp through most of his normal activities. He’d been tempted to try the toupee in the shower (the ad guaranteed that it was washable), but a niggling fear from the back of his mind insisted that the moment water hit those perfect waves, the entire hairpiece would frizz into a fright wig.

But Friday he’d done four dozen jumping jacks and fifty push-ups, and the Hair didn’t budge. On Saturday he covered the wig with a baseball cap and went for a jog along the beach, and the Hair didn’t even shift when he removed the cap. Best of all, it passed the wind test. At the deserted north point of the island, Winslow had stood upon the highest sand dune and dared the strong ocean winds to knock his wig off . . . and none did. With a sense of satisfaction, he replaced his ball cap and jogged home.

The toupee was good. Hair was good, period. Guys with hair didn’t know how good they had it until their hair left, but you’d never catch a bald guy taking the hair involvement in a simple jumping jack for granted. Winslow had carefully performed at least a dozen before the mirror, several in slow motion, so he could study the rise and fall of the Hair to be sure it moved naturally.

Now he peered into the kitchen window and flicked a hair off his forehead, then pulled another strand down at a rakish angle. A stranger stared back at him—a thick-haired, darkish man with determined eyes and a resolute chin. This man could take on the church committee of Heavenly Daze. This man could even send Reverend Rex Hartwell, heartthrob of the women’s auxiliary, running for cover.

Whistling softly, Winslow slipped out the back door of the parsonage and strode across the lawn, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching his Bible. The tinkling sounds of the piano came through the cracked windows, accompanied by the sound of worshipers. A decent crowd, by the sound of it.

Winslow paused at the church’s back door and adjusted his tie. The wig on his head felt suddenly heavy, and an unmistakable drop of sweat was coasting down his left temple. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away, then straightened and pasted on a confident smile. When he opened this door, the congregation would get their first look at a new pastor—and a man who intended to retain his position in Heavenly Daze.

He waited until the song ended, then cracked the door.

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