Chapter 16
Kaylee Reynolds had been a massage therapist for only a few months at one of Savannah’s most elegant spas when Moira Allyson
booked an appointment with her because Moira’s regular masseuse of nearly a decade, Danielle, had moved to South Carolina
to care for her ailing mother. Kaylee felt a bit nervous about working with Moira; there was something intimidating about
her. Perhaps it was her wealth or the confident way she carried herself. However, Danielle had reassured Kaylee that Moira
was easy to get along with and always tipped well.
Within two minutes of meeting Kaylee, Moira made her massage preferences very clear—she did not want a deep tissue massage.
She then recounted an experience from years ago with a woman who had been so rough with Moira that she could have pressed
charges for assault. Kaylee, with her hands shaking, felt nervous about meeting Moira’s expectations. However, judging by
her client’s relaxed state and the fact that she fell asleep within the first ten minutes of the massage, Kaylee assumed she
had done a good job. Although she did wonder if the champagne Moira had consumed in the spa’s waiting room contributed to
her calm demeanor. Regardless, Kaylee felt relieved when she heard Moira snoring.
During their second meeting, Moira talked about the plans for her birthday party in September and asked if Kaylee would be interested in providing massages for her guests.
Kaylee was pleased to have the opportunity to make some extra money and excited to get a chance to see where her elegant client lived.
Kaylee arrived right on time, and when she stepped inside the pool house to set up, she was greeted by the subtle, even pleasant
mixture of salt air and chlorine. The walls of the cozy lounge area, furnished with plush pastel-colored seating, were adorned
with vibrant, water-themed decor—framed pictures of the serene coastal scene right out the door and a large watercolor of
a blue heron. A few green potted plants added extra life to the inviting space. Large windows along one wall provided a lovely
view of the low country while also allowing plenty of natural light to fill the room, creating an airy, open feel. To one
side was a compact kitchenette with a long butcher-block countertop, a black matte sink, a microwave, and a mini fridge with
a see-through door showing refreshing beverages. There was a well-organized shelf in the corner filled with pool essentials—rolled
towels, sunscreen, floaties, goggles, and brightly colored pool noodles.
Through a set of double French doors, there was a small bedroom with a queen-sized bed and matching teak furniture, along
with a small en suite bathroom—all decorated in beautiful nautical colors. A row of windows beside the bed provided a stunning
view of the Georgia blackwater and marsh, with reeds and grass swaying gently in the breeze. Kaylee imagined waking up to
such a breathtaking sight every morning. Living in this small, cozy pool house would be several steps up from her apartment
in the bustling city.
As Kaylee transformed the pool house into a tranquil spa by drawing the curtains, lighting candles, heating oils on the kitchenette counter, and playing relaxing music blended with wind chimes through her portable speaker, she thought about Moira’s generosity of giving to others on her birthday.
Moira must have spent so much time and money on this weekend and these friendships.
She wondered if her friends appreciated all the effort Moira was putting into the weekend.
The thought that they might not made Kaylee feel sad.
She snapped photos of the beautifully arranged space to advertise on social media.
After all, private parties were a great opportunity for her to make some extra money.
Moira insisted on getting her massage last, allowing her friends to enjoy the relaxation and pampering first. So at precisely
1:00 p.m., a tall, thin redhead entered the pool house, her freckled face glowing with a touch of sun and excitement, and
introduced herself as Nell. She wore a soft, white terry-cloth robe, which had her initials classically monogrammed in black
on the lapel—a thoughtful gift Kaylee had seen Moira present to all her friends while Kaylee was preparing the pool house—over
her bathing suit.
Kaylee spoke kindly over the soft music, gesturing to the massage table she had set up between the kitchenette and the sitting
area. “Welcome, Mrs. Nell. I’m Kaylee, and I’ll be giving you your massage today. Do you have any areas of concern?”
Kaylee took Nell’s new robe and draped it over the khaki sofa in the sitting room. While assisting Nell onto the table on
her stomach, Kaylee’s long blonde ponytail cascaded over the shoulder of her black scrub top. Nell mentioned having a slipped
disc in her lower right back, a common issue for Kaylee’s clients, often resulting from daily wear and tear, bad posture,
or slumped shoulders.
As Kaylee worked on her back, Nell basked in the relaxation.
With her head resting in the hole of the massage table and her gaze fixed on the warm stone floor, she closed her drowsy eyes.
She attempted to quiet her racing thoughts—worries about Taylor, Tate, and even Moira.
But her mind wouldn’t quiet. Focus, Nell, she reminded herself.
Focus on the music. Focus on the massage.
So she intently centered her mind on the pressure being applied to her calves, which made her think of Taylor’s complaint
a few weeks ago about her legs hurting from having to walk to her last class on the opposite side of campus. This made her
worry about the possibility of her daughter walking back to her dorm in the dark once the sun started setting earlier. She
shook those thoughts out of her head and focused on the ambient music playing softly from the speaker, which reminded her
of the wind chimes hanging from the crepe myrtle in her backyard. She noted how that tree hadn’t bloomed well this season
and was showing signs of disease; it disheartened her because it was such a lovely addition to her lawn.
No, do not focus on anything. Turn off your mind.
However, her thoughts continued to swirl. So she began to pray. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” she recited silently, envisioning herself at the feet of Jesus, free of any cares or worries. Soon she drifted off into
a peaceful, deep sleep.
Gemma had thanked Moira for the luxurious monogrammed robe, but when she tried to pull it over her bathing suit, she struggled.
Moira hadn’t asked for her size; she must have just guessed.
Unfortunately, her guess was wrong. Gemma didn’t want to look to see what size it was; she didn’t want to know.
Did robes even come in sizes? How in the world was it possible for a bathrobe to be too tight?
Now she was expected to wear only a bathing suit in front of a young girl she didn’t know. This Kaylee seemed fit, likely
able to run marathons; perhaps she even competed in triathlons. As Kaylee looked at Gemma’s softer body, Gemma couldn’t help
but feel she would be harshly judged. Would the table hold her weight? What did she weigh now? She hadn’t stepped onto a scale
in a while, and just like with the size of the robe, she didn’t want to know.
“Do you have any areas of concern, Mrs. Gemma?” Kaylee extended her hand to help Gemma onto the table.
“Yeah, is it going to hold me?” Gemma asked, gesturing toward the table.
Kaylee tilted her head in confusion. “Ma’am?”
“I mean, is this table going to support me, Kaylee, or am I going to end up on the floor needing an ambulance instead of a
massage?”
Kaylee chuckled and assured Gemma, “No, ma’am. It will hold.”
Gemma began to lift her leg but stopped short. “I don’t need to sign a waiver or anything first?”
Kaylee could sense that this woman’s sarcasm came from a place of self-doubt. “Ma’am, I assure you that you are going to be
fine. Lie down and relax.”
Should Kaylee say more? Should she mention that she didn’t judge? That she had worked with women much larger than Gemma? Would
that sound offensive rather than complimentary? Unsure of how to respond, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
Gemma nervously climbed onto the table, hearing it creak under her weight.
Thankfully, it held firm. She sighed and exhaled deeply, just as Kaylee had instructed, feeling the hot oil and gentle hands working on her tense neck.
Gemma couldn’t help but think that finding the muscle beneath the layers of fat would be no small feat.
Yet somehow Kaylee did just that, and Gemma quickly drifted off to sleep without caring about her body or her husband.
“I know it isn’t typical to have a phone during a massage because the goal of all this is to disconnect from the outside world
and enjoy the relaxation, but unfortunately, that’s impossible for me. It’s mandatory that I keep it nearby. I have to be
reachable at all times,” Celia Kate told Kaylee as she sat on the table and gripped the phone in her hand.
“I understand. Work?” Kaylee asked.
“Yeah, sure. Work,” she answered while positiniong her head into the pillow. “Now, I have an old basketball injury. I tore
my ACL during my junior year of high school. It’s been thirty years, but my leg still gives me trouble sometimes. I guess
arthritis has set in. Really work that muscle, Kaylee. I’m not tender or squeamish.”