The “GWG” in GWG Wig Boutique in downtown Southern Pines stands for Gail Withers George and, she adds, “Go with God.”

Gail has gone many places with God. In fact, the fashionista retailer with a brilliant smile owns a CV that reads like an African-American history timeline, beginning with her grandmother’s domestic employment and culminating in Winston-Salem’s Best Small Business award in 1993.

That business, Temp Options, placed ex-convicts in construction jobs. When one didn’t show, Gail put on jeans and boots, reported to the work site at Baptist Hospital, donned a hard hat and demolished bathrooms.

“I love being an entrepreneur,” George says.

She also loves independence. All of Gail’s businesses were opened with her own savings, not bank or other financing.

Gail, an only child, was born in Salisbury but moved around. Her father was in the Air Force, and her mother worked for Honeywell. Gail calls her grandmother’s domestic employment a self-owned enterprise. As a student she held a variety of summer jobs, discovering that “you can’t make money working for $1.25 an hour.”

Gail studied speech pathology at Boston College but itched to get out on her own.

Instead of opening a store, restaurant or salon catering to the African-American trade, in 1989, in Winston-Salem, she opened Withers Construction Company, specializing in the installation of silt fencing along highways — a skill she learned by doing it.

“I hired five wonderful old men who had worked on the chain gang while they were in jail,” Gail recalls.

Employment helped newly released prisoners establish a life. To further this goal she opened a second business, Temp Options, to serve the construction trade.

“The men worked for me, which took the responsibility off the employer,” George says.

Two businesses to run, 100 employees to supervise, two children to raise defines multi-tasking.

After 10 years Gail moved on to corporate sales for Bell South Mobility, just as cell phones began to boom. One of her customers was Michael George, an MBA/insurance company finance manager, previously with Price Waterhouse in New York.

“What impressed me about Gail (as a businesswoman) was her absolute honesty,” Michael says.

He bought the phones and in 2002 married the saleswoman.

By then, he says, in a cosmopolitan milieu nobody paid attention to their inter-racial marriage. Between them, the Georges have six children and nine grandchildren, two with special needs.

Soon after their marriage, Michael became a financial officer at FirstCarolina Care in Pinehurst, an insurance subsidiary of FirstHealth of the Carolinas.

“Like Ruth, I followed,” Gail says with a knowing smile, since the biblical Ruth of “whither thou goest” followed her mother-in-law, Naomi, not her husband.

Gail faced new challenges in Pinehurst.

She did not find many high-visibility businesses owned by African-Americans.

“When I first got here I found it culturally different, a bit slower, more of a small-town atmosphere,” she says. “It was an adjustment, not knowing anybody.”

Gail had become a mini-celebrity in her Winston-Salem community; because of her awards and write-ups children asked for her autograph when she attended a Black Film Festival.

“It’s not easy (here) for an inter-racial couple. Stigmas still exist,” she says.

Gail was at loose ends, professionally and socially. She looked for friends in Pinehurst, where they lived.

“Where are all the black people?” she wondered.

At work.

This time, it was Gail who needed the job.

She became the cosmetics manager at Belk in Southern Pines, using experience gained as a boutique model in Winston-Salem.

Given the demographics — older women with thinning hair, chemotherapy patients — wigs were a logical segue. Gail sought to serve women of every race instead of establishing a wig/hair products destination for black women. Wigs save time for professionals. They are easy to maintain. Some models can be integrated with the woman’s own hair. Technology has made synthetic-hair wigs lighter, snugger fitting, therefore more comfortable.

Gail researched the market. She became certified in wig styling and as a medical wig consultant before opening a boutique in a low-traffic Pinehurst location.

Business was slow. Gail believes that her photo in an advertisement suggested this was a business owned by a black woman, for black women.

“But black women weren’t coming to Pinehurst because they thought (the wigs) would cost too much,” she says.

Ironically, when they did come, some wondered why wigs with tight curls weren’t the primary offering.

The proprietor answers that a woman’s hair should express her personality and style, not necessarily her ethnicity, which is why Gail wears wigs.

Gail kept her eye on a small store with high visibility on Broad Street. It became available in December. In the new location, in addition to wigs, Gail attracts passersby with reversible poncho-wraps, costume jewelry and locally made fabric handbags. Michael manages the books, does the taxes and keeps Gail motivated.

This was a much better mousetrap. Neighboring shopkeepers welcomed her. Gail sees diversity on Broad Street. Every week brings new clients. Gail is ready with information and, if necessary, long-term counseling.

“I cry with them, I laugh with them. Sometimes I go to funerals,” she says.

Yet she still observes people peering in the window, curious about the owner and her wares. Occasionally, she goes outside to greet and reassure them.

“I had a little girl come in who was in awe that (a black woman) could own a business this pretty,” Gail says.

Gail and Michael George have settled in. Finding a church took time; they attend Grace Church in Southern Pines, with a diverse congregation and social opportunities. She has joined professional organizations but misses belonging also to one for black women.

Otherwise, Gail lives to work. She researches new products and is considering jewelry design.

“All I think about is business — business from a black perspective,” she says, adjusting her wig du jour. “My business is a by-product of the people who marched, who gave their lives so I could own my own. I am a proud black woman — a proud American.”

On a recent rainy morning, a slim, well-dressed senior studies the window display, then opens the door, tentatively. Gail greets her with that amazing smile and sunny voice.

“I like your hair,” the owner says with a knowing look.

“It’s a wig,” the woman whispers, touching her tawny blonde cap.

They talk quietly, in the private fitting room. Ten minutes later the two women emerge giggling. A rapport has been established.

“I’ll be back,” the new customer says with a wave.

Gail George is counting on it.

Contact Deborah Salomon at debsalomon@nc.rr.com.