many years? Itâs time to enjoy our day with no distractions or arguments.â
Monica pulls down my arm. âYour wish is my command.â She walks inside, making a half twirl with a smile. âJust promise youâll stay away from Cabana Boy.â
CALEB
I take the stairs two at a time down into the spa area. Wealthy womenâand even some menâpay big bucks to have someone else pamper their bodies here.
Maggie works the spa desk. Sheâs one of those cute white girls who seem perpetually in a good mood. She told me on my second day of work that if she were three years younger, sheâd ask me out. Then she said, âRules were made to be broken.â Sheâs good for a laugh.
Maggie glances up and immediately smiles when she sees me.
âThat was fast,â she says.
âProblem with one of the pumps in the menâs steam room?â
Maggie leans forward and talks as if telling a juicy bit of gossip. âThis old guy came out in his towel, shivering, saying that he couldnât get anything but cold air to come out.â
âGuess Iâll have to save the day. He still in there?â
âHe said heâd wait in the hot tub.â
âHowâs the womenâs?â If I remember right, the two spas are back-to-back, running the same plumbing lines. If thereâs a problem with one, thereâs probably a problem with both.
âNo complaints so far,â she says cheerily. âIâd send you in, but youâd get quite an eyeful.â
I raise an eyebrow.
âBossâs daughter and her friend. Toes, waxings, body wraps . . .â She looks at the schedule book. âAnd hair and makeup.â
âDonât they do anything themselves?â I ask.
Maggie laughs. âNot on prom day, I guess.â
For some reason, this irritates me.
Maggie sighs dramatically. âTheyâre staying in the Orchid Suite, and I heard that Mr. Monrovi turned down several requests for the room. It rents for a thousand dollarsâthatâs one thousand a night .â
The phone beeps on the desk, but Maggie keeps talking, shaking her head. âRich girls, can you believe the nerve, they actually asked meâoh, wait a second.â She holds up one finger. âMonrovi Spa.â
Iâm strangely curious to know what they wanted. My father may speak well of the Monrovis, but Iâve heard from other staff about how spoiled Kate is. The inn isnât even rightfully her familyâs, at least according to Grandfather.
âCaleb, go on in,â Maggie whispers with her hand over the phone. âIâll be on forever with this lady.â
I pick up my tool bag and walk down the stone hallway toward the menâs room. Why am I so interested in Kate Monrovi? People talk about her, I saw her in the parking lot the other day, even Dad brings her up. Itâs like being hauntedâand not in an interesting way. Since Iâve been here, sheâs been like a nagging thought in the back of my head, a word on the tip of my tongue . . . More like a bad taste in my mouth.
Maybe I need to see this girl, up close and personalâlike, and then Iâll be over this ludicrous whatever-it-is. Itâs time to be over it.
Chapter Four
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Measure for Measure (Act 1, Scene 4)
KATE
The music moves through my body as we dance. The band has called everyone to the dance floor, and weâre crammed together, swaying, laughing, singing the old familiar rock song. All animosity, broken hearts, or clique distinctions are gone, at least during this song. The guys wear tuxes and the girls wear the best labels in fashion. Even love-is-death Elaine now smiles and laughs, her hands raised with everyone elseâs. Some people hold up their iPhones and BlackBerrys, trying to record the occasion. The photos will be online before