Page 226 of Mangled Memory
“Yeah, but I should know. I’m the owner, after all.”
“It’ll come around.” Her eyes flit to my temple before returning to mine.
“Promise?”
“Yeah. And if it’s too slow, I’ll buck your doctors and tell you everything I know.”
“Promise?” I repeat.
“Promise.” She holds up fingers like a scout would. “If not for you, then for me. In the meantime, can we do all the things that might stimulate your memories?”
“I’m in for that, even the woo-woo shit. Nothing’s off the table.”
Her smile is as wide as her face. “Love that.”
“How long before they come out?”
She reaches down the wall and presses the gold button. A woman in all black enters from a panel in the wall I didn’t know was a door. “Miss Tomlinson. Mrs. Barone. How may I help you?”
“What time are we scheduled to begin?” Halley asks.
“The spa is yours today. We’re ready when you are or we’ll wait as long as you’d like.”
“Thank you.”
The woman walks back through the door and leaves us alone. Halley and I look at each other before huge grins stretch across our faces.
“Guess your rich husband had a hand in this?”
“I didn’t even tell him I was coming.” The light dawns. “But Fitz must be somewhere close. I don’t go anywhere anymore without a chaperone. So Christian must know.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“It’s hard to when we have the place all to ourselves. What do you want to do first?” I tap my finger to my lips. “I’d say foot massage. Pedi. Salt scrub. Massage. Facial.”
“Think they can do a mani too?” She studies her nails.
“At the push of a button.”
She pushes it again and the same woman returns. Her face shows no surprise, no eagerness, no boredom. I wonder if that’s the job, her natural expression, or a shit-ton of Botox.
“How may I help you?”
“We’d like to start with reflexology foot massages followed by pedicures. Can we do that in a room together?”
“Yes, Mrs. Barone. When would you like to begin?”
“In half an hour,” Halley decides for us.
She gives a nod and disappears through the wall.
“I’m sure they can hear us,” I whisper conspiratorially. “Is it just me or would this make a great haunted house? Walking through walls, expressionless zombies. It’s a whole vibe.”
Halley’s head whips to mine.
“What?”
She studies me long enough for me to be uncomfortable. “You’ve said that before. It shouldn’t surprise me. You’re you, after all. But when we came here for my birthday, you said that almost verbatim.”
