“You do understand the job involves hiring and supervising the massage therapists. I’m concerned about your lack of managerial experience.”
“I’m good with people. I know I’d be a great manager.”
Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. You had to admire her confidence, though. It took guts to ask to be shot down.
“Why haven’t you started your own business?”
“I really like being part of a team, which I got to do working for a chiropractor.”
“Meaning you don’t like being in charge.”
“Meaning I don’t have the capital to hire my own staff,” Trish shot back.
Kira gave her an appraising glance. Trish was starting to win her over. “You sure you want to be responsible for taking care of everything? Finding someone to cover for anyone who gets sick, ordering supplies, keeping the massage therapists happy, appeasing angry clients…”
“I can do that,” Trish insisted. “And you’d be my boss?”
“Yes,” Kira said uncomfortably. “At first. But I plan to sell once this place gets off the ground.” She didn’t want to be reminded of that right now, or of what it might mean to her relationship with Megan. She needed to go for a long run and get that sorted out in her head—soon. But not now.
Trish leaned forward earnestly. “I can handle it. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Thoughtfully, Kira twisted her pen. “How would you decide if you needed to fire a massage therapist?”
“Uh…”
As Trish struggled to come up with an answer, Kira squeezed her pen, telepathically trying to help. Her father would hassle her if he knew what she was thinking. He’d accuse her of being a lightweight. And he wouldn’t have averted his eyes, either, when he heard Trish Martin dig herself into a hole. He would have enjoyed feeling superior.
Turned out, he didn’t teach her everything she knew.
She gave Trish a reassuring grin, because personnel decisions were something she could teach her how to make. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
***
Megan handed Barbara Fenhurst a glass of water after her massage.
“How do you feel?”
“Great,” Barbara said in between gulps of water. “You’re a great masseuse. Always know right where to find the knots.” Far from being upset about the fire on her porch Officer Baldini had mentioned, Barbara had spent most of their session telling her how exciting it had been to see her name in the paper. Whatever stress she had complained about to the police seemed to have worn off before her appointment.
“The water at your house always tastes better than at my house. Can you get me a refill?” Barbara handed her the empty glass, picked up her purse, and followed her into the kitchen. Megan refilled her glass from the filtered tap. When she turned back to offer her the water, Barbara was across the kitchen helping herself to a handful of cherries from a bowl on the breakfast table. “I’m starving,” she said, nibbling away. “Can I have some of these?”
“Um…” Megan gave Barbara the glass of water and hoped it would distract her from the cherries. She was happy to share, but she didn’t like having her personal space turned into a hotel’s all-you-can-eat continental breakfast buffet behind her back. Clients weren’t even supposed to be in her kitchen.
Barbara’s hand hovered near her mouth. “I can pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Megan edged toward the doorway, hoping Barbara would get the hint that it was time to leave.
Barbara held out a fistful of cherry pits and stems. Megan showed her where the compost bucket was, and her wayward client scooped another bunch of cherries from the bowl. “Mmm.” Instead of following Megan to the front door, she wandered into the living room with her prize and slowly turned around to take it all in. “I love your house.”
“Thanks.” Megan followed, wondering what was coming next.
“It’s so big for one person. Are you looking for a roommate? I’d love to live here. I could have your extra bedroom, and I have this great futon we could set up in the living room for guests.”
Huh? “It’s only two bedrooms. One’s the massage room and one’s my bedroom. There’s no extra bedroom.”
“Oh. So we could put up a wall in the living room. That should give me enough space.”
Was Barbara insane? “I’m not looking for a housemate,” Megan stammered.
“With this big empty townhouse? And you live here all by yourself?”
How did she know that? Was she assuming she lived alone because she’d never seen anyone here, or had she actually researched this? Megan knew she’d never told Barbara anything remotely bordering on her housemate and/or relationship status. Looked like she’d trained herself too well. She could turn a conversation around as well as any self-respecting psychotherapist, keeping the focus on the client the way a good therapist should, never burdening the client with details about her own personal life. Now look what had come of it. Left free to imagine whatever she wanted about Megan’s private life, Barbara had gone wild.
“Don’t you like your own place?” Megan said. Or… “Is it the fire? Are you afraid the arsonist might come back?” If she didn’t feel safe at home, that would explain her sudden interest in moving in with her. That had to be it.
“Fire’s no big deal for me,” Barbara said. “Didn’t I ever tell you my dad was a fireman?”
“You didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you—”
Barbara snorted. “I’m not scared.”
Okay, well, good. Discard that understandable explanation and that left a great big blank for why she wanted to convert Megan’s living room into a guest suite. Megan hated being judgmental, but unfortunately she had no trouble filling in the blank with words like self-centered and needy and desperately lonely. Just what she needed in a housemate.
“He took my brother for visits to the firehouse all the time, but he never took me. He said it was no place for a girl. My brother got to do all the fun stuff—ride the fire truck, learn how to hook up the water hose, watch them burn down old houses for practice…” She popped more cherries into her mouth and spit the pits into her palm with so much force that slobber went flying.
“That sounds unfair,” Megan said.
“That’s exactly what it was. Unfair.” Barbara went back to the kitchen and dropped more cherry pits into the compost bucket. “How much do you want for rent?”
“I don’t have room,” Megan said firmly.
“I’m good about helping with housework and all that. You’d hardly notice I was here.”
Right. She’d hardly notice an extra person in the house, not to mention a wall in her living room? “Sorry.”
Barbara turned on the kitchen sink to wash her hands. “Think about it.”
Megan shook her head in disbelief. Talk about persistent. She showed her to the door.
With Barbara safely outside, Megan rushed to the bathroom and ran her hands under cold water to wash off the experience. Her body was shaking, even though Barbara really wasn’t a threat. She was lonely, that was all, and she didn’t understand that professional nurturers were there to care, but not to be your best friend. She had probably offered to split the rent with her acupuncturist, too. And her physical therapist. And God knew who else. There could be quite a list.
***
“She wants to move in with you?” As if the jolt to Kira’s lungs from chasing Megan into the cold ocean wasn’t enough of a shock to her system, now there was this delightful news.
“I’m not taking her up on that, obviously.”
Megan sounded like the voice of reason, as usual. Kira didn’t understand why she herself was the only one ready to burst an artery over this. She would have been happy if Megan never saw Barbara Fenhurst again, but apparently Megan didn’t think there was a problem. Just another harmless looney tune who helped pay the bills. “She has a crush on you.”
“She says she’s straight.”
“She says she’s straight
? What does that mean?”
Megan slipped her arms under Kira’s clinging wet T-shirt and Kira’s already-racing pulse picked up speed. Megan moved her hands up her back with expert skill and Kira tried not to think of her amazing touch being wasted on grabby Barbara Fenhurst, because thinking about it was not helping.
“Barbara Fenhurst is the last person on earth you need to be jealous of,” Megan said.
“Sorry,” Kira said. “It’s not you I’m mad at.”
“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t work out of my home. I know it’s not the most professional setting.”
“It is not your fault.”
“If I drew the line more clearly…”
Kira gripped her wet arms, feeling the steel underneath the softness, hating that anyone could make Megan doubt herself. “Will you get upset if I tell you I want to beat her up?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Probably not,” Kira admitted. “But keep in mind she’d be just as bad in a real office. And it is not your fault.”
“I don’t know.” Megan chewed on her lip. “If you were at someone’s place of business and you saw food lying around, how would you know it wasn’t fair game?”
“She eats your food?” What a piece of work. “What is she doing in your kitchen?”
“She forgets it’s not a social call.”
Megan was the most generous, forgiving person she’d ever met. Forgiving enough for both of them, really. If there was anything Kira could do to protect her from people who took advantage of her, she’d do it. And there was something she could do. “Do you want office space at my spa? I’d love to have you there. There’s plenty of room.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to work for you.”
Yes, she remembered that quite clearly, and it wasn’t what she meant. “Not working for me. Completely independent. I have Trish Martin working for me now, and I will not let her ask you to step in and help.”
Megan considered it for a moment. “I don’t know if I can afford it. Anyway, you’ll need all those treatment rooms for your guests.”
She could afford to rent Megan one of those rooms for free. Was there a way to give her a room without insulting her pride or making her feel beholden? There had to be a way.
Megan rubbed her hands down Kira’s back and around her waist. “Maybe there’s something I can do to hide my living space from my clients. Folding screens around the living room or something. A door blocking the kitchen.” Her hands kept moving around her waist, gently at first, then with increasing frustration. When Kira started wondering whether Megan was actually going to hurt her, she abruptly stopped. “I can’t believe that woman had the nerve to suggest building a wall in my living room so she could move in.”
Kira whistled in disbelief. “That’s what that freak wanted you to do?”
“I guess I should be glad she didn’t suggest taking over my bedroom.” Megan gave a high-pitched giggle that sounded like she was on the verge of hysterics. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” She hid her face in Kira’s shoulder and started shaking. “It’s my house. It’s my space.”
“Oh, honey, don’t cry,” Kira whispered into her hair. She held her tightly and stroked her wet head. Megan felt so tiny and vulnerable. “Tell her you can’t see her anymore.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“I’d like to, but I…I can’t bring myself to do it.”
***
Monday evening Kira sat on the steps in front of Megan’s townhouse doing some paperwork while she waited for Megan to finish up with her last client of the day. Their plan was to walk down to the beach, eat dinner on a blanket on the sand and swim, because after working with Barbara Fenhurst, Megan was definitely going to need to unwind.
When the door finally opened, Barbara did not look pleased to see Kira there.
“Is she one of your clients?” Barbara demanded. “I thought six thirty to seven thirty was your last appointment of the day. Do you have a seven forty-five? Because I can come later.”
“No, she’s…”
Kira tightened her grip on her papers as it suddenly occurred to her that by arriving a few minutes early she’d put Megan in a tough spot. She hadn’t intended to do that. Would Megan say she was her girlfriend? A friend? A neighbor? She knew Megan liked to keep her personal life private. She knew about Megan and her rules.
“…just visiting,” Megan said easily. That seemed to satisfy Barbara because she went back to chattering with Megan as if Kira weren’t there.
“If we lived together, I could make you breakfast,” Barbara said. “I make a great omelet. People beg me for my omelets.”
Wow. Megan wasn’t kidding when she said Barbara wanted to move in with her.
Barbara kept it up. “I’m very easy to live with. You’ll see.”
Kira rolled her eyes. Barbara could talk all she wanted, but she was never going to get a chance to prove her qualifications as a housemate.
“First I’ll need to repaint. I can’t live in a place that’s not moss green. That’s the color my old masseuse in California used. You’ll love it.”
What do you know, disproved herself already.
“I’m not interested in a housemate,” Megan said. “I don’t have room.” She actually sounded sorry that she had to let Barbara down.
Kira put away her paperwork, impatient for Barbara to finish up with the bullshit. The fried chicken and sweet potato fries in the take-out bag at her feet were going to get cold if they didn’t get a move on.
At last Megan and Barbara hugged goodbye. Kira’s fingers dug into her palms. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have minded. Sure, there wasn’t a lot of hugging going on in most businesses, but massage wasn’t most businesses. It was more like kindergarten, where the teacher hugged the kids and it was all very nurturing. What got to her was that it was Barbara. I-have-a-crush-on-my-massage-therapist Barbara. With Barbara, things were not all warm and fuzzy and innocent. She didn’t deserve one of Megan’s hugs.
Kindergarten, she reminded herself. Nurturing. She looked to see what was taking so long and saw Megan was engulfed, her arms pinned at her sides, her face stoic as Barbara squeezed the life out of her.
“Can’t wait till next week,” Barbara said cheerfully, keeping a suspicious eye on Kira as she made her way past her down the steps. “I’ll bring a measuring tape so we can figure out where to put that wall for my room.” She was so busy glaring over her shoulder at Kira and giving her the evil eye that she stumbled on the last step.
As she struggled for balance, Kira leapt up and caught her arm to make sure she didn’t bash her face on the concrete sidewalk and then need to make even more appointments with Megan to speed the healing process. Barbara needed to stay away from Megan. And work on her listening skills.
Barbara shook off Kira’s restraining grasp and scowled. “Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!”
“Are you all right?” Megan rushed down the steps to Barbara’s other side.
“Did she trip me?” Barbara accused.
“Of course not. Why would you think that?” Megan gave her a look that might have passed for concern if Kira didn’t know her so well. The eyebrows were right, but her eyes were distant and cold. She hadn’t appreciated that claustrophobic hug.
Devoid of support for her accusations, Barbara changed tack. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
Kira didn’t believe that, not for one minute. “Do you need help getting to your car?” she offered, knowing it would be difficult for Megan to resist her Good Samaritan instincts. Barbara would be only too happy to get herself invited into the house for first aid, and then it would be impossible to get her out.
“We’ll both walk you there,” Megan said, jumping in before Barbara could respond.
Good call. Kira took hold of Barbara’s arm again, this time with both hands. Barbara resisted, but Kira kept a firm grip. Otherwise Barbara would sag her weight against Megan, who had
her other arm, and no way was she going to let that happen. Barbara’s hour-long appointment was up.
In a few minutes they were helping Barbara into her car, watching her drive off, and walking back through the courtyard to Megan’s door.
“There’s no way she really twisted her ankle, is there?” When the angry glares in her direction had stopped and the limping continued, Kira had started to wonder.
“I think once she gets home she’ll be happy she has an excuse to call her doctor. And her chiropractor. And me. The woman’s a hypochondriac.”
Megan looked tired, and that made Kira mad again. “You know how I said I wouldn’t really beat her up? I changed my mind.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Yeah.” How could she even ask?
A hint of amusement crept into Megan’s voice. “She might deserve it.”
“What? Is that an un-Hippocratic attitude I hear coming from your oh-so-professional lips?”
“My lips are not professional. Eew.”
Kira cringed. She wished she could joke about that aspect of Megan’s career’s reputation, but she still wasn’t used to it. “You know what I mean.”
Megan put an arm around her shoulders and gave her an apologetic squeeze. Kira relaxed into it. She had to admit she understood why Barbara craved Megan’s company. Barbara might be crazy, but she had good taste.
“Speaking of professional,” Kira said, “you really smoothed things over.” Megan in action had been impressive. In just the few minutes it took them to walk her client to her car, she had calmed her down to the point that Barbara was thanking her for the wonderful massage and seemed to have forgotten all about their little incident.
“I didn’t want either of us to get sued,” Megan said. “Amelia taught me to be paranoid about that.”
“Barbara wasn’t hurt,” Kira protested. And Megan’s ex was out of her lawyerly mind if she thought Megan would ever get sued for a trip-and-fall outside her townhouse. Her clients loved her. Customers sued because they were angry—they didn’t slap lawsuits on people they adored. “She wasn’t hurt, right?”
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