Page 11 of Even After This
A masseuse appears and interrupts our moment. “Penelope?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Patty. If you’re ready, I’ll take you to your room.”
Penelope picks up her treatment folder and cup of tea and rises from the chair. Before she passes me, she pauses. “I hope you find what you need while you’re here, Meredith.”
I need an investment property,not a bad dancing partner who just happens to havea kind heart,killer-watt smile,and plays a Greekdemigod on the big screen, I want to assure her.
And myself.
Instead, I offer a smile. “Thank you. Enjoy your well-earned massage.”
With their departure, I’m left alone in the room, and I’m conflicted. Since she didn’t throw me into the fire, talking to the tiger a little while longer might have been enjoyable.
While replaying the conversation in my head, it occurs to me I’ve lost my own treatment folder. Paperwork representing health inventories, therapy needs, and personal schedules are tucked away in brown padded folders for each patron to hand to the staff member in charge of their care. I need to track mine down.
I exit the women’s-only section, trace my oafish steps back to the Mountain View Room, and, upon arrival, am relieved the exuberant women are now gone. Scanning the lounges, I spot the lost item. As I approach, my shoes announce my presence with their intrusive flip-flopping.
Without looking up, I address the person in the chair as I lean down to snatch my abandoned folder off the neighboring table. “Sorry, I’m just going to grab this.”
“Shh. Do you mind?” The voice of the chair’s occupant sounds familiar, and I glimpse down. And stop breathing.
A grinning Harlan Holcombe continues. “This is the quiet room, and those shoes could start a stampede.”
Oh my word. My face burns as my hand travels to lightly touch the disastrous hair-don’t on my head. Trying to save my pride, I stand tall. “You know what could start a stampede? Your dancing.”
An unrepentant, slow smile crosses his face. “I must have madea real impression on you for you to remember the dances we shared.”
I blink. No words. Just blinking. In what world is Harlan Holcombe flirting with me twice inside of twenty-four hours?
My flirting is like my first flip phone now housed at the back of my kitchen drawer. Wow, even if it wasn’t cool, itfeltcool back in the day. But it needs a total reboot, and I’m not sure any amount of updates could make that old technology work in today’s world. Certainly not on the Harlan Holcombe megawatt-smile data plan.
Which is why, after the brilliance of my blinking, I finally say, “We danced. Last night. Yes.”
I thought he would make fun of me.Iwould have made fun of me. But instead his eyes soften, a really good look on him, and he motions to the chaise lounge next to him. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Oh.” I straighten the tie on my robe, as if speaking to a celebrity dressed in a robe while I’m also wearing a robe is a normal, everyday thing for me. There’s no excuse for me to leave. Nowhere I need to be. If I say no, what does that look like? “Oh, um. Okay.”
I sit in the chaise, staring out at the golf course, my back ramrod straight, my knees locked as if an Olympic judge is going to give me a score for my form.
In the silence, Harlan is so loud.
A chuckle sounds from him. “Meredith?”
“Yes,” I tell the fourth hole on the green.
“I don’t feel like you’re relaxed.”
“Of course I’m relaxed. This room is my happy place.”
“Have you already shopped properties with Prissy this morning?”
“No. We’ll go this afternoon,” I say, proud of my brain for coming up with a complete response this time.
“She’s trustworthy.” His tone fills with sincerity. “She doesn’t want you to buy something you don’t want. So if you havethoughts about the process, it will work well for you if you’re completely up-front with her on what you need and want.”
His sincerity touches me. He’s still an interplanetary movie star who saves children in his spare time, but his sincerity touches me all the same.
