Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
I shake my head to myself. I’m being ridiculous. That’s sleep deprivation for you.
I stand in the middle of the spa with the fattest smile on my face as the contracts manager, Alan, talks me through the updates. “We had to move the washing stations a fraction this way,” he says, indicating some plumbing work. “Because your ceiling drops here and if you want the floating ceiling with illumination, we’ve got to start a foot farther away.”
I nod, reaching up and straightening my hard hat. “And the pedicure stations?”
“Could you lose one?” he asks, walking to the far side. “It would make the space less tight around each chair.”
I ponder that. “Sure.” I don’t want clients feeling like they’re on top of each other. “And the million-dollar question,” I say, smiling, hoping to charm the right answer out of him rather than adopting my husband’s tactic and terrorizing it out of him. “When can the decorators start?”
“Well, Mrs. Black,” he says, gazing around the space. “There’s been a few unexpected problems along the way which have hindered the schedule.”
I narrow a suspicious eye. “Like?”
Alan suddenly can’t look at me, and he’s mute, unable to list the unexpected problems.
Something tells me The Brit’s been poking his nose in. “The owner of the spa”—let’s remind him of that—“would like to open by the first.”
Alan balks. “That’s four weeks.”
“Correct. And two weeks for you to finish.” It’s been five months since we bought the salon. Three since the remodel started. “Let’s get things moving.” I leave Alan with his completion date and wander over to the girls, who are looking over the mood board I stuck to the wall when the works started, a reminder of what we’re working toward. Lots of green, lots of plants, lots of . . . calm. Perfect.
“Did I hear you just tell him two weeks?” Beau asks.
“Yes.” I ignore her surprise. “They built Byron’s in that time, so if anyone tells me it can’t be done . . .” I don’t need to finish that statement.
“But the contractors aren’t even finished.”
“They will be in two weeks.”
“Then you’ve got to decorate.”
“It’s all going to be fine,” I say, smiling brightly at her. “Besides, I know an amazing decorator, and I also happen to know she’s available right now.”
“Who?” Pearl and Anya ask in unison, as Beau sighs.
“Me.” She shakes her head. “Good luck convincing my husband I’m fit for work.”
“We’ll help. It’ll be so much fun!” I clap my hands. “We should go for cocktails and mocktails.” I check my phone again. No word from Danny. I can’t lie, I’m surprised. “Then I need to collect Daniel from school.” There’s a reason we should go for drinks, and Beau catches it when I nod to Pearl. She seems a little subdued. I link arms with her, Beau on the other side, Anya joins the line, and we all walk out onto the street. “I see palm trees here and here,” I say, nodding to the new glass doors. “And a living wall just inside by the reception.”
“We need to think about marketing,” Anya says.
“You’re in charge of that,” I tell her. She’s young, probably a whizz on social media. I look at Pearl. “Love the lip.”
She smiles, biting at it.
“And the hair.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Yes, when am I starting at the spa?” she asks, suddenly super keen.
I raise my brows, studying her. “Anyone would think you don’t like your current job.”
She smiles, awkward, and I feel Beau nudge me. See? If there was anything between Brad and Pearl—and, again, their contempt toward each other is quite conclusive—why would she be so keen to get away from the club?
My cell rings, and when I see Barney’s dad calling, I feel myself tense.
“Oh, it’s the hot, single banker,” Beau chimes. “There could still be some murdering yet.”
I roll my eyes and answer. “Lennox, hi.”
“Hey, have you had a call from the school?” he asks, just as my phone declares another incoming call.
I look down, and my heart drops. “They’re calling me now. What’s happened?”
“You’d better take it.”
“Okay,” I squeak, hanging up and answering to the school, my heart beating double time. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Black, it’s Principal Tucker.”
“Hi, Principal Tucker,” I say, pulling all of the girls eyes my way. “Is everything okay?”
“First of all, Daniel is fine.”
I sag, relieved. “Thank God,” I breathe, and Beau, Pearl, and Anya all deflate too, feeding off my energy.
“But I do need you to come in, Mrs. Black. There’s been an incident. The police have been called.”
“The police?” I blurt.
“Yes, Mrs. Black.”
Oh shit. This isn’t good. Not for Daniel or his dad. “I’m on my way. And, Principal Tucker?”
“Yes?”
“Do not call Daniel’s father.”
“I already tried calling him.”
“Fuck.” I wince. “I mean, darn.”
“He is the primary contact.”
“Is he?” Why didn’t I know that?
“He didn’t answer.”