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Alan suddenly can’t look at me, and he’s mute, unable to list the unexpected problems.
Something tells me The Brit’s been poking his nose in. “The owner of the spa”—let’s remind him of that—“would like to open by the first.”
Alan balks. “That’s four weeks.”
“Correct. And two weeks for you to finish.” It’s been five months since we bought the salon. Three since the remodel started. “Let’s get things moving.” I leave Alan with his completion date and wander over to the girls, who are looking over the mood board I stuck to the wall when the works started, a reminder of what we’re working toward. Lots of green, lots of plants, lots of . . . calm. Perfect.
“Did I hear you just tell him two weeks?” Beau asks.
“Yes.” I ignore her surprise. “They built Byron’s in that time, so if anyone tells me it can’t be done . . .” I don’t need to finish that statement.
“But the contractors aren’t even finished.”
“They will be in two weeks.”
“Then you’ve got to decorate.”
“It’s all going to be fine,” I say, smiling brightly at her. “Besides, I know an amazing decorator, and I also happen to know she’s available right now.”
“Who?” Pearl and Anya ask in unison, as Beau sighs.
“Me.” She shakes her head. “Good luck convincing my husband I’m fit for work.”
“We’ll help. It’ll be so much fun!” I clap my hands. “We should go for cocktails and mocktails.” I check my phone again. No word from Danny. I can’t lie, I’m surprised. “Then I need to collect Daniel from school.” There’s a reason we should go for drinks, and Beau catches it when I nod to Pearl. She seems a little subdued. I link arms with her, Beau on the other side, Anya joins the line, and we all walk out onto the street. “I see palm trees here and here,” I say, nodding to the new glass doors. “And a living wall just inside by the reception.”
“We need to think about marketing,” Anya says.
“You’re in charge of that,” I tell her. She’s young, probably a whizz on social media. I look at Pearl. “Love the lip.”
She smiles, biting at it.
“And the hair.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Yes, when am I starting at the spa?” she asks, suddenly super keen.
I raise my brows, studying her. “Anyone would think you don’t like your current job.”
She smiles, awkward, and I feel Beau nudge me. See? If there was anything between Brad and Pearl—and, again, their contempt toward each other is quite conclusive—why would she be so keen to get away from the club?
My cell rings, and when I see Barney’s dad calling, I feel myself tense.
“Oh, it’s the hot, single banker,” Beau chimes. “There could still be some murdering yet.”
I roll my eyes and answer. “Lennox, hi.”
“Hey, have you had a call from the school?” he asks, just as my phone declares another incoming call.
I look down, and my heart drops. “They’re calling me now. What’s happened?”
“You’d better take it.”
“Okay,” I squeak, hanging up and answering to the school, my heart beating double time. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Black, it’s Principal Tucker.”
