the shadows.
She heard Margot’s voice first. “How many times must I tell you, Amber, spa employees are not allowed to ‘see’ each other on spa grounds?” She didn’t give the girl a chance to respond, but continued, “I warned you when I caught youand Frisco together that I was only giving you one more chance.”
“I am not screwing this, this dork.” The girl swished her ponytail, emphasizing each word. “He’s stalking me.”
Margot turned to Elvis. “Young man, you are not allowed in the building unless you are working on something with your construction crew. And you are to stay at least two hundred and fifty feet from Miss Ferguson. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elvis’s shoulders drooped and he muttered, “But I ain’t stalkin’ her. Alls I was doing was asking her for a date.”
“Regardless,” Margot jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, “keep away from her and keep out of the mansion.”
Margot swiveled on her high heels and marched into the lobby. Amber passed Skye without seeming to notice her, and Elvis stomped off the other way. Once she was sure her path was clear, Skye followed Margot, who was approaching a slim woman standing at the reception desk.
Before the woman could speak, Margot gushed, “Ms. Kimbrough, may I call you Nancy? I’m so happy you were able to fit us into your schedule.
Spa
magazine said they didn’t think you’d be able to make the opening.”
Ah, the magazine critic Margot had mentioned.
Skye tried to slip away without being noticed, but Margot spotted her and called her back. “Skye, come meet Nancy Kimbrough. She’s a writer for
Spa
magazine. Nancy, this is one of our guests, Skye Denison.”
While they shook hands Skye covertly examined the reviewer. Nancy’s delicate features were a blend of Asian and European, making her age difficult to guess. She could be anywhere from twenty-five to over thirty.
Margot put a hand on Skye’s back. “Skye can tell you how wonderful everything has been going so far.”
Skye quickly sorted through her experiences—she’d been deserted by her masseuse, showered in glass, made to eat Styrofoam disguised as food, and bored nearly to death by a soprano. What part of that did Margot want her to share?
Her silence must have clued the magazine writer in on theproblem because Nancy took Skye’s arm and said, “Let’s talk in my room.” Turning to Margot, her tone slightly challenging, she added, “I assume it’s ready?”
By the time they walked up the stairs and Nancy opened the door, Skye had finally come up with some positive statements to make about the spa. The mansion was beautiful, the staff friendly, and she’d enjoyed her massage. Nancy seemed to want Skye to stick around and chat, which would have been fine because the writer was really nice and Skye could feel their personalities clicking, but she decided she’d better go find Trixie. They needed to go over their plan for catching the vandal that night.
“As Groucho Marx said, ‘I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it,”’ Loretta remarked, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in Skye and Trixie’s room.
She had knocked on their door a few minutes earlier wearing red satin pajamas and bearing gifts of food.
“How in the world did Mom persuade you to come this weekend?” Skye lay on her stomach across the bed, savoring a cheese-topped cracker.
“Well”—for once the self-possessed attorney looked uncertain—”the thing is”—she took a sip of her champagne—”I was amazed at how happy your parents were about me dating Vince. I… ah … thought they’d either be openly negative or fake nice, but they weren’t.”
“Yeah, I have to admit, Mom surprised me, too.”
Trixie polished off a candy bar. “I knew May would be thrilled.” She licked the chocolate off her fingers. “After all, Loretta is healthy, successful, and of child-bearing years.”
“That’s true.” Skye reached for
She heard Margot’s voice first. “How many times must I tell you, Amber, spa employees are not allowed to ‘see’ each other on spa grounds?” She didn’t give the girl a chance to respond, but continued, “I warned you when I caught youand Frisco together that I was only giving you one more chance.”
“I am not screwing this, this dork.” The girl swished her ponytail, emphasizing each word. “He’s stalking me.”
Margot turned to Elvis. “Young man, you are not allowed in the building unless you are working on something with your construction crew. And you are to stay at least two hundred and fifty feet from Miss Ferguson. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elvis’s shoulders drooped and he muttered, “But I ain’t stalkin’ her. Alls I was doing was asking her for a date.”
“Regardless,” Margot jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, “keep away from her and keep out of the mansion.”
Margot swiveled on her high heels and marched into the lobby. Amber passed Skye without seeming to notice her, and Elvis stomped off the other way. Once she was sure her path was clear, Skye followed Margot, who was approaching a slim woman standing at the reception desk.
Before the woman could speak, Margot gushed, “Ms. Kimbrough, may I call you Nancy? I’m so happy you were able to fit us into your schedule.
Spa
magazine said they didn’t think you’d be able to make the opening.”
Ah, the magazine critic Margot had mentioned.
Skye tried to slip away without being noticed, but Margot spotted her and called her back. “Skye, come meet Nancy Kimbrough. She’s a writer for
Spa
magazine. Nancy, this is one of our guests, Skye Denison.”
While they shook hands Skye covertly examined the reviewer. Nancy’s delicate features were a blend of Asian and European, making her age difficult to guess. She could be anywhere from twenty-five to over thirty.
Margot put a hand on Skye’s back. “Skye can tell you how wonderful everything has been going so far.”
Skye quickly sorted through her experiences—she’d been deserted by her masseuse, showered in glass, made to eat Styrofoam disguised as food, and bored nearly to death by a soprano. What part of that did Margot want her to share?
Her silence must have clued the magazine writer in on theproblem because Nancy took Skye’s arm and said, “Let’s talk in my room.” Turning to Margot, her tone slightly challenging, she added, “I assume it’s ready?”
By the time they walked up the stairs and Nancy opened the door, Skye had finally come up with some positive statements to make about the spa. The mansion was beautiful, the staff friendly, and she’d enjoyed her massage. Nancy seemed to want Skye to stick around and chat, which would have been fine because the writer was really nice and Skye could feel their personalities clicking, but she decided she’d better go find Trixie. They needed to go over their plan for catching the vandal that night.
“As Groucho Marx said, ‘I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it,”’ Loretta remarked, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in Skye and Trixie’s room.
She had knocked on their door a few minutes earlier wearing red satin pajamas and bearing gifts of food.
“How in the world did Mom persuade you to come this weekend?” Skye lay on her stomach across the bed, savoring a cheese-topped cracker.
“Well”—for once the self-possessed attorney looked uncertain—”the thing is”—she took a sip of her champagne—”I was amazed at how happy your parents were about me dating Vince. I… ah … thought they’d either be openly negative or fake nice, but they weren’t.”
“Yeah, I have to admit, Mom surprised me, too.”
Trixie polished off a candy bar. “I knew May would be thrilled.” She licked the chocolate off her fingers. “After all, Loretta is healthy, successful, and of child-bearing years.”
“That’s true.” Skye reached for
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