7. Harper
Harper
It’s been just over two months since the papers were signed, and The Driftwood Spa became mine. Shaina and Daniel left the next week for an extended road trip, and I was told to make it my own.
My first task as the new owner was to hire a masseuse.
My hands had trembled, and I dropped my pen twice in the first minute of the interview.
Fortunately, Wren had been so sweet, and her presence offered such a calming effect.
Within minutes, all nerves were gone, and I knew she would be a perfect addition to the spa.
She looks like a woodland fairy from a story book.
Her long blonde hair hangs in soft ringlets, tied back with a boho scarf.
The dangly bracelets jangle when she moves, yet somehow, aren’t annoying.
Instead, they add to her airy flower child vibe.
Her long flowy skirt skims the floor, and her top looks like it came straight out of the movie Forrest Gump with bell sleeves and little eyelet details on the bodice.
As awkward as it was at first, I finally embraced Shaina’s “make it my own” mentality.
My mind is spinning with possibilities. Wren is a licensed masseuse, but also a yoga instructor and reiki healer.
She recently moved here after living in Sedona for a few years.
Before that, she was in Boulder, and the list goes on.
She and her mom moved a lot as she grew up, and she followed her footsteps in recent years, but claims she is tired of the nomad life and is ready to make Juniper Falls her home.
Something about geographical vortexes and her star charts signaling she would find true peace and freedom here, or something like that.
I might not get all of it, but whatever brought her here, I’m grateful; she is everything I didn’t know I needed for my business and in my life.
We’re currently in the planning stage of how we can expand our services to offer both yoga and reiki sessions at our spa.
I love that we will be a center for healing in so many ways.
Shaina always relied on word of mouth to draw customers, but Wren and I are working on marketing strategies to boost our traffic.
Which is why, for the first time ever, The Driftwood Spa will have a booth at the annual Summer Berry Festival.
It’s a town-favorite event, and in recent years, it has started drawing tourists from Salem and even Portland.
We will be offering five-minute chair massages, as well as selling some skin care products, gift baskets, and exclusive discounts on full spa packages if booked and paid for at the booth this weekend.
Wren also had the genius idea to offer a free massage to the winner of the wood splitting competition—the main event on Saturday that always draws the biggest crowds.
I laughed when she suggested it, but the more I thought about it, the more perfect it seemed.
The winner would get a ten-minute post-competition rubdown, then a coupon for a free massage.
Plus, by presenting the winner with the award and coupon, our brand would be front and center at the hottest event of the weekend.
“Who knows, maybe a sexy lumberjack will win and whisk me away for a weekend of pleasure!” Wren quipped.
She said it jokingly, but in the month that I’ve known her, I have found that her free spirit bleeds into every area of her life.
She flits from partner to partner, unapologetically taking her pleasure, refusing to be tied to any one person for more than a night, maybe two if they rocked her world—her words!
I joked she could ride off into the sunset on her lumberjack; my main objective for the day was to eat as many strawberry tarts as I could and get the spa’s name out there.
The festival lasts two days and always ends too soon for me.
Bree is watching Lizzie today, and I plan to let Wren man the booth most of Sunday so I can soak up the fair fun with my girl.
Maybe this year, she’ll try a tart, or a pony ride, instead of never-ending carousel rides.
It doesn’t matter, as long as she’s happy, we can ride the carousel until I’m tipping over, but I would love to see her try something new.
Wren gives me a look of pity when she approaches the booth.
“Harper, uh...sweetie, you know I love you, but this does not look good.” She sweeps a hand over my products’ display.
“What do you mean?” Glancing around, I pout. I think it looks good.
“How about this—you go take a lap, check out the other booths, and say hi to everyone. Then come back. If you like your way better, I’ll switch it back.”
“Fine.” I start to walk away but turn back to her. “You’re just humoring me, aren’t you? You know whatever you have cooked up in that beautiful brain of yours will make my setup look like shit.”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Her impish smile tells me all I need to know.
She really has a knack for making things beautiful.
Wren’s the epitome of grace and style, and today is no different as she flits around in a flowy skirt, with her Driftwood Spa T-shirt tied at the side, which somehow works with her boho outfit.
Her hair is in loose waves, except for two braids that are bound in the back.
I wish I could pull off that sort of vibe, but alas, I’m a Converse and jeans kinda girl.
Meandering through the booths, I spot Ms. Gregory setting up her stall. My stomach rumbles just thinking about her strawberry tarts. They are to die for. Jackson is setting up the corral for pony rides.
Spotting me as I walk by, he raises a hand and shouts, “This is the year that Lizzie gets on a pony, I can feel it in my bones!”
“I hope so!” I respond with a smile. The flurry of activity is nothing compared to the chaos of excitement that will kick off in just over an hour. Giselle is selling handmade candles again this year, and I make a mental note to send Wren over to pick a few for the spa.
Redecorating with gently themed rooms is in the works.
The spa has always had a rustic vibe that suited Shaina to a T, but I envision a lighter and airier eclectic vibe for the future of the spa.
Wren’s all for it and has been making sketches of ideas.
Hopefully, we can increase business enough to cover the costs this year.
Until then, we are slowly adding little things like candles and hanging plants around the space to ease folks into the transition.
Lord knows the town will balk at any extreme changes to a pinnacle of the community.
The booth is a hit. Both chairs have been full non-stop, we are almost out of the skincare we brought over from the spa, and gift baskets are half gone. But what I’m most excited about is the fact that we’re now booked out for the next two months.
Wren, of course, transformed our small booth into a calming oasis where the products looked almost like decorations. Everyone gushed about how pretty the space was. Even Mrs. Cooper, and she can find fault in literally everything.
It’s almost time for the wood splitting competition, so we set out a be back soon sign, and make our way to the event. “Now, the plan is still for me to present the coupon and bring the winner back to the booth, but you’re going to do the massaging?”
“Of course! Then we will stop massages after, so you can enjoy a little time at the festival, too!” Opening my mouth to protest, Wren holds up her hand. “Nope, no arguing, you deserve this. I can man the sales booth.”
“Fine, I’ll make a quick trip through the stalls and food trucks then relieve you for a break.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the log splitting event starts in ten minutes. Anyone wanting to compete must sign a waiver and be in position in five minutes.” The loud voice of Paul comes over the PA system.
It’s pretty cute how excited you can tell he gets over this event.
Little do people realize he has ulterior motives.
His rental cabins all have wood burning stoves, and this event restocks his woodshed for the winter each year.
Honestly, I was impressed when he told me.
It’s a genius idea. He gets publicity and firewood split in one swoop.
Wren and I find a spot near the stage. “Holy crap!” she exclaims. “I know you said this was a popular event, but there has to be fifty guys out there. Sedona definitely didn’t offer this kind of show.” She fans herself with her hand dramatically. Gosh, I love this girl.
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it drew a crowd,” I respond absently as I scan the growing throngs of spectators.
“How could it not? It’s like a strong man talent show.
Next year, we should suggest they do it shirtless.
” She winks before scanning the men gathered in the center, probably picking out her next conquest. I inhale deeply; the smell of fresh cut pine hangs in the air, making me feel nostalgic with memories of my first experience at the event.
I didn’t know what to expect, but the spectacle quickly sucked me in, and I was cheering for Daniel right alongside Shaina.
Scanning the participants, I recognize most of them.
There are a couple newbs, but it’s mostly locals playing for bragging rights.
A few young men dart looks over at Wren, and I wonder if some are joining the fray in the hope that she’s the one who’s giving the rubdown after.
It’s about to be someone’s lucky day, and possibly night.
My gaze snags on a man I don’t recognize as he enters the contestant area, wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap.
Chatting easily with the guy next to him, he begins rolling his sleeves up, revealing corded forearms that are covered in bright ink.
My core tightens. Who knew forearms could be a turn on?
His laughter reaches me, and I feel transfixed, unable to look away.