Certain that by now Jill would be looking to escort me to our massage, I began a brisk, fast walk back up the hill. Not seeing any sign of Sam in the garden, I went straight to the suites.
I wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted me when I entered the sitting room. Sam had Gladys cornered up against a wall and wouldn’t let her past. Gladys was shaking her head back and forth so fast I was surprised she wasn’t dizzy.
“I don’t believe you. Why were you in there?” asked Sam in a raised voice, which for always calm and collected Samantha was equivalent to yelling.
“I told you, I was just looking for Piper. That’s all. I was worried she might have fallen asleep and would miss the massage.” Gladys responded but her eyes flitted between me, Sam, and the door to the hall.
“What in the world is going on?” I demanded.
“I saw Gladys coming out of your room when I came in here,” Sam said pointing.
I raised one eyebrow and crossed my arms, waiting for Gladys to tell me what exactly she was doing in my suite.
Shuffling from one foot to the other, Gladys cast her eyes down. “I told Samantha, I was just looking in to see if you were taking a nap when you didn’t answer the door.”
Narrowing my eyes, I marched to my door and threw it open. At first glance, everything seemed fine, but then I remembered my missing cell phone. Suspicions whirling, I looked more closely at everything. My purse was sitting against the end of the bench instead of sitting up straight. And was that…it was. My cell phone peaked out from underneath the bed though I distinctly remember tossing it in the middle of the bed, not near an edge. Spinning to the closet, I turned the light on and gasped. My white dress had LEAVE TOWN smeared across it in dark, angry slashes that looked oddly like chocolate.
Wait a minute, chocolate? No! Oh, no! It couldn’t be. I sprinted to my purse and dug inside, scowling when I pulled out the now empty Tupperware container. The last bits of my precious truffles, those that hadn’t been sacrificed to leave nasty messages on my clothes, were smeared across the container. Now I was mad. You don’t like me, fine. You want to say awful things, no problem. Threaten me and you’re pushing your luck. But, take my chocolate? You have a death wish.
ELEVEN
I returned to the sitting room madder than a whole nest of hornets that had been poked with a stick, dragging the ruined dress behind me. I found Gladys and Sam sitting on opposite pieces of furniture.
“Are you knitting, right now?” I asked Gladys incredulously.
“It helps me calm down. I understand you are upset that I looked in your room for you, Piper, but I had no idea you girls would give me the third degree over it.”
“I think this is more than a little upsetting, don’t you?” I shoved the ruined dress in front of her. Sam inhaled sharply. Gladys dropped her knitting needles and covered her mouth with her hands, the picture of horrified, but I wasn’t letting it go that easily.
“Gladys, is there something you have against me? Something you would like to say to me?”
“What do you mean Piper? Surely you don’t think that I did that, do you?”
“Well, you were the only one in my room!”
“No, no I wasn’t. That maid was here when I came back from lunch to have my quiet time.”
“What maid?” Sam asked. “We specifically told Broussard no cleaning service while we were here and I know for a fact they haven’t come to my suite because they are obligated to leave a survey card and a dark chocolate honey square in all rooms.”
“None of those things were in my room either,” I told them both. Though, if Sam had told me earlier about dark chocolate honey squares then I probably would have voted yes for the cleaning service.
“Well, no I don’t remember having chocolate honey either when she left,” Gladys said as she crinkled her eyes, looking thoughtful. “I know she said she was the maid though because I told her she nearly gave me a heart attack and she said ‘Sorry ma’am, just taking out the trash’ then she quickly left the room.”
I looked to Sam and back at the dress. Did this mysterious person who talked to Gladys exist? Was I the “trash” she referred to?
“Come to think of it,” Gladys continued as she searched the cushions for her knitting needles, “she wasn’t carrying anything when she left. She did have on some of those blue plastic gloves though.”
I sank down onto the couch in defeat. It sounded plausible. I didn’t know what to think anymore. I genuinely liked Gladys from the moment she entered our bakery, but the timing of everything was suspicious. I was exhausted and now I had no chocolate.
“What did this lady look like, Gladys?” I asked after a moment but was robbed of a reply.
Rap, rap-tap-tap. Knocking at the door had all of us jumping. Lola opened the door this time, with Jill and Cynthia behind her. “Is everyone ready to have those sore yoga muscles worked?” she asked with a wide grin. Confusion clouded her face when her enthusiasm was met with three groans.
~
I really should have started a list, I thought to myself. A different list that is, of what was wonderful and what should never be done again at this spa. I was still on the fence about which list this deep tissue massage would make it onto. When they said deep, they meant it. There were moments I was almost asleep with the repetitive motion of the woman kneading my shoulders, and then she would nearly pull my head off with some evil neck stretching maneuver that I was fairly certain should be illegal. Maybe this was a case of pleasure outweighing the pain, but we would have to see.
On a positive note, the massage table was more like an over-fluffed, twin-size bed that was heated and felt like laying on a cloud. And they let you keep your underwear on so I was happy not being completely naked under the warm blanket.
Gladys was snoring. I kicked myself when I realized I forgot to ask again for a description of the miscreant who defiled my dress and demolished my emergency chocolate stash after we were interrupted by the knocking.
Sam was carrying on a softly spoken conversation with the woman in charge of her massage. I heard them mention “trouble spot” and “carrying extra tension” a few times and concluded this must be the person who does Sam’s massage on a fairly regular basis.
My person was not a talker and that was fine with me. I had too much thinking to do to be a good conversationalist anyway.
By the time the hour session was up, massage had fully moved to my approved list. Of the many aches and pains that stretching unprepared during yoga had caused, none remained. My muscles felt like liquid, my body was so relaxed that I actually felt dizzy when I stood to step into the robe held out to me.
Sam must have seen me blinking.
She laughed, “Come on Piper, you can’t have six showers and six naps a day while we’re here; you’re going to be worthless in the bakery next week.”
I yawned widely. “I have no idea what you are even talking about,” I told her.
We were escorted to the changing room where we slipped back into our regular clothes. Gladys was being very quiet; we may have hurt her feelings. I was beginning to feel bad about blaming her. The longer I thought about it during the massage, the less likely it seemed that Gladys would have any reason to hate me, much less ruin my dress and my chocolates. That seemed too immature for someone Gladys’s age. Perhaps we should revisit our list soon.
The nail salon room was right next door to the changing area, so we didn’t need an escort this time. We popped over and signed in at the front counter. While we waited for the girl with the goth style to set up the stations, Sam and I decided that tonight after dinner we would tell Gladys about the notes.
“We can watch her reaction,” Sam said, “but I’m beginning to doubt she did it, too.”
Goth girl, I should really figure out her name, walked up just then. She led us to three tables and seated us in large, plush chairs. Nail techs were seated on the other side of the small tables, in much less comfortable chairs I noticed, and an array
of sparkly things were set out in front of them.
“Welcome to Bejeweled Nails!” Kim, the lady sitting at my table, spoke up. “In front of you are all of our jewels for you to choose from. You can have as many or as few as you would like.”
That finally perked Gladys back up. She got so excited about the design for her nails that she either forgot about or forgave us for our accusations and interrogation of her earlier.
“Oh, look at these! Sam, you just have to get these gorgeous red gems to match your hair,” she picked up a set and waved them at Sam.
Before Sam could even look at them, much less respond, Gladys’s attention was captured by yet another sparkly sheet and new idea. “Piper! These are you, completely you.” She pointed at a page of synthetic pearls that shimmered iridescently with hints of turquoise and light pink.
They were stunning. Okay, so maybe Gladys had a good eye. I picked up the sheet and handed it to Kim.
“These please,” I told her, “in a spiral pattern on my thumbs and three in the center of my nail, vertically, for each of my other fingers.”
Sam went with the red jewels suggested by Gladys.
“A heart pattern on my thumbs and one dot on each of the other fingers,” she told the tech at her table.
“Well,” I leaned back to ask Gladys, “what are you getting?”
“Bright pink diamonds,” Gladys held up the sparkly jewels to show me.
The process took much longer than I expected, though what I based any expectation on I have no idea. We received the manicure, nail trim, and cuticle treatment before the bejeweling even began. Then it was a tedious process, as the techs had to dab a dot of clear glue onto our fingernail with a small, metal ball-tipped instrument. Next, with a tiny pair of tweezers, the jewel was peeled off the sheet and meticulously placed onto the fingernail. And then repeat the process again, one jewel at a time. I felt terrible for requesting the spiral instead of sticking to one jewel per nail, poor Kim.
It was an hour and fifteen minutes later before all of our nails were completed. I had to admit they looked pretty amazing, but bejeweling was definitely going on the “not again” list. The paint was much faster, plus I could only imagine what customers would think of finding one of these beautiful jewels in a cookie when they bite down should it fall off without me noticing. Nope, too risky for having on a regular basis.
Jill, Lola, and Cynthia were seated in the waiting area, apparently waiting on us.
“Ladies, if you don’t hurry you will be late to dinner,” Cynthia tut-tutted at us.
Picking up the pace, it had been a long time since lunch, after all, we returned to the suite to dress. Sam loaned me a pale pink jumpsuit. Gladys wore a frilly lace concoction that reminded me of my grandmother’s Easter dress when I was a child. Sam wore a tan and blue maxi dress.
“Casual night it is?” I asked, waving my arms at our attire.
“Yes, well, it has been a long day.” Gladys shrugged.
“For such a relaxing place, both of our days have been rather long so far,” I couldn’t help but point out.
Tap-tap, tap-tap. This time when the knock came, I was close to the door and flung it open. I don’t think I will ever want an assistant for anything ever again in my life after this.
“Let me guess,” I began, “you’re here to collect us for dinner?”
A masculine throat cleared and I looked into the stoic face of Broussard. Instead of look before you leap, perhaps I should consider look before you talk as a new philosophy.
“Miss Lowe,” he spoke around me. Literally. It was like I wasn’t even standing there. I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips but he continued without a bother. “Miss Lowe I’ve come to escort your party to dinner and to inform you of the good news. Margarite will return tomorrow to assist you. We hope Cynthia’s service was acceptable for the interim period that was necessary.”
I rolled my eyes, and even that received no notice from Broussard; maybe this guy had been part of the Queen’s Guard in his past. Sam took it in stride.
“Thank you. I do believe we are ready.” Then she grinned wickedly and threaded her arm through mine. “Piper, are you ready?”
I stuck my nose as far in the air as I could manage without tipping backward, “Yes, Miss Lowe, I am quite famished. Let us proceed.” She bit her lip to contain the laughter bubbling to the surface.
Not to be outdone, Gladys strolled past us and grabbed hold of Broussard’s starched elbow. “Well, don’t just stand there,” she said cheekily, “escort me to dinner, sir.”
Broussard turned the color of a ripe tomato, but he did not remove Gladys and indeed escorted her all the way to the dining hall. Unable to bite back the laughter any longer, Sam tried to mask it with a long, fake coughing spell.
If nothing else, I thought as we walked, this spa trip was much less boring than I imagined it would be.
Much to our surprise, Belle joined us at dinner that evening.
“Mother has a headache,” she explained. “Her friend Winnie was kind enough to sit with her and they bid me go to dinner and not worry about Mother. Really, I think they had gossip they decided was too juicy for me to hear.”
“Well we are glad you joined us, dear,” Gladys patted her hand.
“Do you live near here?” I asked Belle.
She shook her head, swallowing the bite of salmon she had just put in her mouth.
“No. We come for a long weekend two or three times a year. We live in Rock Pointe, a few hours north of here.”
We chatted about her home, the town, and the church for a short time. It was a pleasant enough conversation, but I was struggling to pay attention. With the prospect of dessert looming, my thoughts skipped back to the ruined dress and ruined chocolates. Now that the initial shock and fury had passed, I also had to admit to myself that the thought of someone in my suite and going through my things gave me chills.
Sam and Belle decided to split the strawberry cheesecake so I asked Gladys to share the molten lava cake and ice cream. The liquid chocolate assuaged some of my fear, but I was still antsy. Sam noticed and called an end to our evening.
“Belle, I think we are going to turn in for the night but please, do find us sometime tomorrow. It was a pleasure chatting with you tonight.”
“Thank you,” Belle smiled, scooting her chair back to stand up. “I’m sure I should be checking on Mother now anyway. Who knows, maybe I’ll be in time to catch some tidbits of news to share with you tomorrow.”
After we had arrived back at the suite, Sam lay down on the floor staring at the ceiling. Gladys took up a seat in a wingback chair. I stretched my legs out in front of me on the divan.
“Gladys, you never got to tell us what the woman coming from my room, claiming to be the maid, looked like.”
“That’s right. Let me think.”
“Anything you remember would help. We are trying to find out who is doing all of this.”
“She was a bit shorter. Blonde hair. Wait, what do you mean all of this? I thought we were trying to figure out who ruined your beautiful dress?”
Sam rolled to a sitting position and looked at me.
Sighing, I started at the beginning.
“And so, you see why we were suspicious when Sam found you coming out of my room,” I shrugged after I explained about the location and nature of the notes that had been left so far.
“I promise you,” Gladys leaned forward in her chair, looking me straight in the eyes, “I didn’t do any of those things, Piper.”
“Who else was on our list?” Sam asked.
I closed my eyes, trying to recall the names we had written down. “Broussard. Broussard’s sister whose name I can’t remember. Your mother, who I doubt would ever willingly smear her hands in chocolate. Margarite.”
“It was definitely not Margarite I saw leaving your room today,” Gladys said, adding thoughtfully, “though whoever it was looked vaguely familiar.”
“So that is two we can take off the
list,” Sam tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We have to add one other though.”
“Who?”
“The unknown suspect for the unknown reason. What? Don’t look at me like I’m kooky. I saw it on a detective show once.”
“Fine. And if it were Broussard, he had to have an accomplice because Gladys clearly saw a blonde woman.”
Gladys yawned.
“Me too,” Sam said. “Let’s call it a night.”
“Agreed. We can plan our appointments for tomorrow when we get up in the morning,” I said as I stood and stretched.
We each departed to our own suites, I turned off the sitting room light as I went. Changing into my pajamas, I crawled underneath the covers and slipped my kindle out of the nightstand drawer. At this point in my book, the maiden had agreed for the knight to journey with her to the other side of the haunted forest. This was not for her protection, she told him, but he was handy at setting up camp and she could spend more time hunting for supper while it was still daylight that way.
I was considering putting the story down for the night. My drooping eyelids were becoming rather persistent when my text message beep sounded from my purse where I had dropped my phone earlier.
I powered down the kindle before crawling to the foot of the bed and digging out my phone. Plopping back onto my pillows, I got comfortable again before swiping through the lock screen to see who was texting me.
Griff: Hey
Me: What?
Griff: Were you sleeping?
Me: Not yet.
Griff: How’s the spa?
Me: Exhausting.
Griff: You sure you are at the spa???
Me: :-/
Griff: Did you figure out the clothes?
Me: Why?
Griff: Curious, you seemed stressed about it.
Me: Got worse.
Honestly, I don’t even know why I am telling Griff. Heck, I don’t even know why he is texting me, but I’m tired and exhausted and don’t have the energy to question it.
Griff: What did?
Me: The clothes.
Griff: How?
Rest, Relax, Run for Your Life Page 9
