Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Isla

T here was an actual elevator to carry me down to the bottom floor, what we regular folk would call a basement. I supposed a crass word like basement wasn’t part of the upper crust vocabulary. Luke had been very specific with instructions—a right turn from the elevator and then take the second left. But there was always so much to see in the magnificent house that I got sidetracked, and there was no Google Maps to tell me how to reroute my path. I came to two swinging doors. One side was marked entrance and the other exit. I pushed open the entrance and found myself in a theater that could rival our town theater in size. One wall even had an entire concession stand complete with popcorn machine and a glass-fronted cabinet with a rainbow-colored supply of candy bars. There was a soda fountain and a soft serve ice cream machine. There were plenty of pitfalls to growing up in one of these cold, formal rich families, but it also came with a lot of perks, huge perks. I could just imagine my sisters and me sitting in our very own theater, nibbling all our favorite snacks while one of our favorite movies played on the big screen. It would have been pure heaven for girls like us.

I pulled out my phone to text them about it, but instead my thumb tapped Luke’s name. “You have a theater, an actual theater, and there are Almond Joy bars and M&M’s in the candy case.”

He texted back. “I haven’t been down there in a few years.”

“I think I won’t really get the whole grandeur of your childhood until I sit in this private theater for a movie. I’m thinking ‘Young Frankenstein,’ an Almond Joy and a box of popcorn.”

“Maybe we can make that happen later tonight.”

I squealed with glee and sent a picture to my sisters. I was on my way out when I heard someone giggling in the dimly lit room. It was coming from somewhere up front. There was another giggle, and I was pretty sure the giggler wasn’t alone. I hurried out. There was no movie up on screen, but someone was definitely enjoying the theater.

Farther down the hallway, I discovered a large wine cellar with a collection of wine that was probably worth more money than I’d earn in a lifetime. There was a beautiful Swedish sauna behind the next door. I turned around and saw another hallway. I was completely lost. The ding of the elevator gave me a starting point. I headed toward the sound. I could start there and go back to Luke’s original directions.

The doors slid open as I reached the elevator. Alexandria stepped out. She’d changed yet again. This time she was wearing white shorts and an olive-green tank top. Her tanned shoulders were shiny and smooth. “Just coming to pick my song and then we’re off to hit a few balls at the putting green. Do you golf?” she asked.

I smiled. “About as well as I ride horses.” I was getting better at this cryptic, meaningless answer thing.

“Oh, but I didn’t see you on the ride.”

“Nope,” I replied. “Now, according to Luke’s directions, we go right and then take the second left.” I wasn’t thrilled to have picked up a companion on my adventure, but it served me right for taking a long detour.

“Ugh, this ground floor is like the catacombs in Rome. Have you been?”

“Not recently.”

“They should add some more light down here with subterranean windows,” she added.

I stopped and looked at her. “How does that work? Subterranean windows?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I probably won’t need that knowledge at any time in my life.”

“So, you two are really cozy, I guess,” she said.

“Cozy? That’s a quaint way to put it.” I decided to leave it at that. Luke was talking a good game, but I’d seen the way he looked at Alex. There was a spark or, at the very least, a measurable amount of attraction between the pair. I didn’t want to get in the way if they were destined to become a couple. And what a spectacular couple they’d be.

Following Luke’s directions brought us to a vast room with a bar on one side and a dance floor and stage on the other. A crew was setting up a sound system fit for a rock concert. A woman stood behind the bar counter. “Taking song orders,” she quipped.

Alex waved her hand with a flourish. “You were technically here first.”

I headed across to the bar counter. It was fully stocked with every kind of liquor imaginable and a tap for beer. The woman slid a laminated list of song choices across to me. It didn’t take me long to pick a song. “Number 59,” I told the woman. “The name is Isla.”

She wrote down my name and my choice. Alex stepped up to the bar, peered down at the list and nodded. “The Chicks, ‘Cowboy Take Me Away.’ Great pick.” She sighed. “So many good ones to choose from.”

The sound system came on with a record-scratching screech. The woman behind the bar sighed. She handed over the clipboard. “Just write your name and song number on the next line. I’ve got to go help them before they wreck the whole system.”

“Well, I think I’ll head upstairs. I guess we’ll see you later. I can’t wait to hear you sing,” I said.

“Yes, same here, Isla. See you later.”

I reached the elevator at the same time as one of the staff members. Interestingly enough, it was the same young woman I nearly ran into on the path to the maze. She looked less harried this time, but she quickly smoothed her hair when she saw me.

“Hello again,” I said.

She smiled and we stepped into the elevator together. An awkward silence followed, then she all but flew out of the elevator when we reached the first floor.

Two long hallways and one steep set of stairs later, I was in my room. It had been cleaned, and the whole room smelled just a little too much like cleaning solution. Maybe Margaret had left orders to give my room a thorough cleaning, worried that I’d brought along some of those dreaded bedbugs.

I turned on the bath. I was going to take full advantage of the amenities at this five-star resort, a resort that would be wonderful if not for the few Steven King characters roaming the halls.

Fragrant, iridescent bubbles floated around the giant bathroom like rainbow-colored snowflakes in a flurry. My phone rang just as I lifted a foot to settle into the tub. It was Ella.

“Hey, El, everything all right?”

“I hate to bother you?—”

“You want to know what’s happening at the manor house.”

“Well, that and Layla wanted to bake some banana muffins, only we couldn’t find the vanilla.”

I settled into my bubbly quilt and rested back with a sigh.

“Well, you don’t have to be condescending about it. We don’t use the vanilla that often,” Ella said sharply.

“That wasn’t a condescending sigh. It was a ‘getting into a warm bubble bath’ sigh. The tub is as big as our bathroom. Seriously, I could swim laps if I hadn’t poured in so much bubble bath.” I pushed my hand through the mound of bubbles and piled them on top of my head.

“That sounds heavenly,” Ella said before letting Layla know that I was in a bubble bath, to which Layla said her usual, “Why doesn’t stuff like that happen to me?”

“The vanilla is in the pantry behind the cornstarch.”

“Behind the cornstarch,” Ella instructed. “So, how is it going?”

“Oh Ella, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Wonderful, eh?”

“What? No. Did I even give off that vibe? Let’s just say I’m earning that money this weekend. Remember that old crone, the villain in Nonna’s story about the three young girls who got lost in the forest?—”

“And the tall woodsman swooped in and saved them from a terrible fate of being fed to the alligators in the crone’s moat?”

“Figures that’s the part you remember. But yes, that one. Well, that old crone lives here at the Greyson estate, however she’s not old and hideous. Although her face is kind of scary from plastic surgery. Luke’s mom is—well—to put it into terms you know well—she’s a villain. She has everything any woman could ever want, yet she is always scowling. Of course, that’s mostly because she hates me.”

“What? How on earth can anyone hate our Isla? I’m putting you on speakerphone because Layla is practically falling on her face in her attempt to get close enough to hear our conversation.”

“Hey, sis,” Layla called.

“Hey. And don’t over-stir the muffin batter, or you’ll get banana rocks. Anyhow, the whole reason for this scheme was so that Luke’s mom wouldn’t set him up with a blind date for the weekend. But she invited the woman anyway, and her unlikable mom is here, too.”

“What a pushy mom,” Layla said. “What’s the other woman like?”

“Well, on a scale of one to ten, one being that old crone in Nonna’s story and ten being Cinderella after her fairy godmother does the whole ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ thing, Alexandria is a fourteen—no magical mice or pumpkin needed.”

“Well darn. That’s disappointing,” Ella said. “That’s not the way this story is supposed to work.”

“Not a story, El. It’s real life. And I’m the, I don’t even know—oh my gosh, am I the ugly stepsister? I’m the ugly stepsister, aren’t I? I really should just head home.” I ducked lower in the bubbles and blew a loud raspberry to send the clear, soapy spheres floating around the room.

“Nonsense. Now, you listen here and stop playing with the bubbles, ’cuz your sister El is going to give you a Nonna-style pep talk.”

I sat up higher in the tub. “Not sure it’ll help. And to top everything off—there’s karaoke tonight, and aside from riding like an Olympian, apparently, and being able to golf and walking like a Paris runway model, Alex has had voice training for years.”

“So what? You know you were always the best singer in the family. And since you cut me off with your soapy pity party, I’ll start again. Now you, my beautiful, baking artist, are a member of the fabulous five.” I smiled as she brought up Nonna’s group name for us. Of course, she only called us that when we were all being fabulous, which wasn’t all the time. “And the members of the fabulous five are ‘always true to ourselves and to our own hearts.’” Layla and I repeated along with Ella. “Have fun, enjoy the bubble baths, and if that dreamy hunk of a man can’t see how special you are, then he’s a big ole goober, albeit a very tall, dark and handsome one. Have fun, be safe, soak in that magnificent tub until you’re a beautiful little prune and then come home so you can relay every single detail to your bored sisters who just spent a half hour looking for a bottle of vanilla that was right behind the cornstarch.”

“And bring home sample shampoos and lotions if they have them,” Layla added.

“She’s not at a hotel.” Ella returned to our conversation. “La, have fun, keep us posted and sing your little heart out tonight.”

I was sitting up higher in the bubbles and feeling less like the ugly stepsister. “You’re right.”

“Time for a chant then,” Ella said. “One, two, three, fabulous five forever!” We said in perfect unison.

“Love you guys and remember, don’t over-mix the batter.”

“Love ya,” they cheered.

I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the crinkling sound the bubbles made as they disintegrated into soapy water. I hummed “Cowboy Take Me Away” but decided to rest my vocal cords for karaoke. I let myself soak until most of the bubbles were gone and my fingers were wrinkled and my mind was free of clutter. Until something stunning struck me. I sat up so fast, some of the water sloshed over the rim of the tub. I hadn’t given it much thought this morning when I spotted the young woman, the server, hurrying back to her shift after an overlong break. Then I saw her again, hurrying to the elevator in the basement. But what was she doing down there? It was possible she’d carried something down for the crew setting up the karaoke room, but I didn’t see any trays of food. None of this would have struck me as surprising if I hadn’t also run unexpectedly into David, Rachel’s fiancé, in the boxwood maze. And he looked somewhat disheveled. Then there was the giggling in the theater. Was it possible? I badly wanted to call my sisters back and have a huge gossip session about the tawdry possibilities, but none of it was my business. I wasn’t here as a true guest. I was a hired date, a decoy, a fake. I liked Rachel, but we weren’t close friends or confidants, and besides that, this was all just a theory based on a few odd incidents. I pushed it out of my mind. This entire weekend was bizarre, so why not add a cheating groom to the mix?

My phone beeped with a text as I dried off. It was from Luke. “How about taking in that movie right now? We’ve got a few hours before the rehearsal.”

“Just have to get dressed,” I texted back.

“Swing by to pick you up in fifteen,” he wrote back.

A few hours alone with Luke required some personal ground rules. Remember, this is a business proposition, one that gets you seven grand closer to your dream bakery. Remember he is utterly charming and gorgeous and definitely not for you. Remember that if you were actually dating Luke Greyson, you’d have to see Margaret Greyson over and over again. And that alone made him what I considered the least-eligible bachelor in the country.