Return To You: A Small Town, Second Chance Romance

49. Grace

forty-nine

Ispend the morning helping Mom clean up the basement. Ethan went to Lucas and Thalia’s early, and Colton had some work. Ethan’s idea to advertise a special storm discount was brilliant, and a few hours after posting it on Echoes, I see our online bookings pick up. That afternoon, I clean up the backyard, sweep the deck, tidy up the front yard and rake the driveway.

Two days after, I open the spa early, happy to be back at it. My first client is someone I don’t know, and she’s booked a whole day of treatments for herself.

“I’m staying with my son for the summer, but half the wall went down when the storm created a water pocket under the foundation, and it’s a mess out there. A real mess. Some very nice—and I should add, handsome—young men came to make repairs, but you wouldn’t believe the amount of dust and noise I’ve had to put up with. Anyhoo. I told my son, I said, Darling, Momma needs her me time. Oh I forgot to tell you, one of the men doing the repairs highly recommended your place. He even handed me a brochure. So I said to my son, I said, Arrivederci, I shall see you tonight. Thank god the temperature is divinely perfect this time of year, because what with the walls being down, I would have had to move to the inn or the resort, and I don’t want to do that. I only see my son every so often, you see?…”

I mentally shut off her incessant chatter and let my instinct take over the massage, let my hands follow the path that her body needs. Soon after, she’s snoring, and when I wake her up gently, she stretches and greets me with a wide smile. “You know what would make my day, dear?”

“Tell me,” I say, smiling to myself. “I don’t have Champagne, but I do have a locally made bubbly, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He mouth rounds in a surprised O. “Why not? But I was hoping you’d do my nails for me.”

“Cheyenne does a wonderful job. We don’t call her a nail artist lightly.”

“Pretty please? I promise I’ll book with Cheyenne next time. But I just need some pampering, nothing fancy, and you have magical hands, and I want to hear alllll about you now.”

My next massage is scheduled with Alex, so I shoot her quick text to move her later—I know she won’t mind—and smile to my new fan. “It would be my pleasure.” When someone books a whole day with you, you give them what they want.

We continue chatting as I lead her downstairs, and I learn that her son from a previous marriage lives here. Her name doesn’t ring a bell, and I don’t ask her her son’s name, because she talks nonstop without prompting, so I just let her follow her own flow while she chooses her nail polish color.

“I’m not familiar with this brand, what is it?”

“It’s free of a lot of harmful products, cruelty-free, and made in New England. Not in Vermont, but close.”

“I love those colors,” she says, picking a bright pink and a turquoise.

“Aren’t they awesome? I’m trying to convince the maker to design an emerald green just for us. Private label sort of thing.” Or I was, because with the spa’s future so uncertain, all my plans are on hold right now.

She clasps her hands together. “You’re so creative!” she cries.

I’m not, I’m really not. I just like what I do, and I like people to feel special, and I like my little town.

As I get her settled in for her pedicure, Alex materializes in front of me. “Talk to you for a sec?” she asks.

“Alex! Sorry, did you not get my message?”

She waves my concern away. “Yeah-yeah, don’t worry about that. It’s… it’s about your lease. I might have a temporary solution.”

I go to stop the flow of water mid-fill in the pedicure basin.

“You can talk in front of me, I don’t care,” my client says. “The water’s divine.” She closes her eyes to give us a semblance of privacy, but I know she’ll be listening. No harm in that, and I have nothing to hide.

I turn to Alex, who gets the hint to make it quick and to the point. “There’s some space at the old firehouse you could rent. I just visited it, and it’s too small for our offices. But I thought of you. I mean, it’s not half as nice as here, but… it’s something. I was going to show you photos, but I’ll just text them to you.”

“Sure, thanks.” I give Alex a small smile and pinch my lips as she leaves, then force myself to smile at my client. The old firehouse is really not my vibe. It has no outdoor space. And super tall ceilings that will make it hard to heat in the winter. Overall, with its cement floors and rusted metal beams, it has an edgy vibe that’s just not fit for a cozy, plush spa.

“Are you looking to expand?” the woman asks me.

“I wish,” I tell her, and then proceed to explain in as few words as possible my current predicament, without making it sound like it’s the end. In other words, without showing her how I feel.

“My son is in real estate!” she exclaims as if that’s the most brilliant idea. “I’m sure he’d love to buy the house as an investment.”

Oh, her son is going to be psyched about his mom’s meddling, I’m sure. Feeling slightly guilty, I play into her hand. “Well, my understanding is that there’s already an offer on the table, but they might be taking backups. I’ll give you the listing agent’s contact.” There’s nothing wrong with messing with Richardson and Amy, right?

“Oh, there’s no need. He’ll have it. Matter-of-fact, let me text him right now. He’ll look it up.” Her thumbs fly on her phone’s screen with the dexterity of a teenager. “Whoopty-doo!” The phone wooshes with the sound of an outgoing message. Then it dings. “Ha! He says he’s aware.”

There you go. He knows, he’s not interested. What else is new?

The phone whooshes again with her reply, but there’s no sound indicating a response.

She frowns.

Welcome to my world.

When I close up the spa hours later, my heart clenches at the sight of the sign in the window. A Touch Of Grace. My eyes well up, thinking my dream is about to be shattered.

Like so many things. What’s the saying? The only constant is change itself? Something like that. Taking a deep breath to clear my mind, I think about what lies ahead. Dad hopefully getting better. Maybe a steady job at the resort spa for me—less headache and a steady income. And Ethan’s career really taking off. Brussels. NATO Headquarters. Wow. Pride swells inside me, for him and also for me, for being happy for him.

Ethan comes back late, as he has the previous nights. We have a quick dinner, and I get to bed while he’s in the shower.

“Lucas is working you to the bone,” I say as I wrap my arms around him after he’s made me come.

He pulls me tighter into his arms. “I’m working on a little side project after hours.”

What could he possibly be up to? “A side project?!” I try to hide my disappointment. While I’m proud of Ethan for volunteering to make emergency repairs in people’s homes after the storm, I was hoping he’d keep most of his free time for me. Or his family. Not for side projects.

He pulls me back into his fold, spooning around me. God his body feels so good. So protective. How will I ever sleep again once he’s gone? “I’m almost done. I’ll show you soon.”

Now he’s gotten me excited. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says sleepily.

“Pretty please?”

He squeezes my hip. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?”

Well, it’ll have to be tomorrow, right. Isn’t he supposed to leave now-ish?

“When are you leaving?” I ask.

He groans and pulls me against him but doesn’t give me an answer.