Page 103 of Faking Cinderella
“And the way he’s holding her and managing Bash too so Emma can just enjoy the day…”
They both sigh.
I glance up then, because my brain has fully caught up to the conversation they’re having, and this is going to be a problem for Margot. “Boss is here?”
Identical giggles answer me. “Hey, Rhys,” the younger one says. Zelda. Her name is Zelda.
“If you were married to Jonas Rutherford, would you be taking spa days every day instead of once a month?” the other—Louisa—asks.
I flip through my mental list of where the staff should all be right now based on the schedule I saw, and Margie—and yes, she has to beMargieright now—should be up at the spa helping with the laundry.
If Emma Rutherford’s headed that way—then Jonas might be too.
“Depends. We talking couples massages or getting facials and seaweed wraps with the girls?” I ask.
They both giggle again.
“Oh my god, he’s had spa treatments,” Zelda whispers to Louisa.
“They can’t do couples massages,” Louisa replies. “They didn’t bring the babysitter.”
“But they brought a driver so they can have a nice lunch with wine.”
“I’d be having wine lunches every day after spa time.”
“You don’t think that would get boring? I’d have to keep working. Not like,here, but like…something.”
I don’t have Margot’s number—that’s an oversight—so I text her security guy.Jonas Rutherford is headed Margie’s way.
No immediate answer.
Doesn’t surprise me.
Dude doesn’t owe me a response.
I grunt something to the two housekeepers and head out of the room.
Have to get to the gondola and get up to the top of the mountain and figure out how to get Margieoffthe top of the mountain without it looking suspicious, like she’s hiding from someone.
And that’s when inspiration strikes.
Laundry room is right down the hall.
I sneak in, grab the dish soap refill from the retreat center’s main supply closet down here, pour a shit-ton into one of the machines holding sheets ready to be moved into the dryer, and I restart the cycle.
And then I’m on the move.
I pass Jonas and Emma in the lobby, just as the housekeepers said. Jonas is holding the baby and also the preschooler’s hand while Emma, his perpetually happy wife, squats to talk to the little boy. I think I heard he’s about four, and he’s staring at the brightly colored origami swans hanging from the ceiling and demanding to know how to make them himself.
No one notices me as I head for the gondola to the top of the mountain, but I notice that Jonas and Emma are just a couple cars behind me on the lift.
Margot’s security guy still hasn’t texted me back.
I head immediately to the spa when the gondola car opens at the top of the lift.
Been about seven minutes. The washer should be about to overflow, shouldn’t it?
No one blinks at me walking into the staff entrance on the lower level behind the spa, where I know they have laundry facilities too. I heard they almost put a kitchen in here, for spa lunches, but decided to keep the food at the winery tasting room on the other side of the lift at the top of the mountain here.
