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started calling Ashley’s clients to be sure they were all right with a substitute therapist. And wouldn’t you know it...the first name on the list was Esther Fillmore. Lucky lady got a weekly massage, and she was still so grumpy? Maybe her poor husband encouraged the expenditure, in the hopes that someday she’d chill out and be a little easier to live with.

      No one answered, so Tess left a message and moved on to the next name. Everyone she reached was friendly and contented either with a new appointment, or with the idea of Tess taking over for Ashley. At eight o’clock, the nail tech showed up and went straight to work. So far, so good.

      At 8:05 a.m., Esther Fillmore walked in.

      She didn’t look surprised to see Tess behind the counter, wearing the official blue Bell River uniform, so the grapevine had obviously done its work well. She didn’t smile or say hello, of course—she maintained her natural sour frown that seemed to mean almost nothing.

      “Good morning, Mrs. Fillmore,” Tess said, with an extra dose of sunshine in her voice, hoping that perhaps being recognized would stroke the woman’s vanity enough to smooth the moment. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to reach you before you made the trip over. I called your contact number, but I didn’t get an answer.”

      The woman froze in the act of removing her coat. “Why were you trying to call me?”

      “I wanted to let you know in advance that Ashley isn’t here today. I’m happy to fill in for her, but I know you prefer your usual therapist whenever possible.”

      “I insist on it,” Mrs. Fillmore said flatly, as if, hearing that, Tess would somehow be able to produce Ashley out of thin air.

      “Then perhaps you’d like to make another appointment? Ashley will be in again right after New Year’s.”

      “After New Year’s?” The older woman lifted her chin. “You expect me to suffer with my sciatica until then? With my nieces and nephews at the house? With family meals to cook, and to clean up after?”

      “I can understand how difficult that would be,” Tess said sympathetically. “I’d be happy to do what I can to help. I’ve worked with many clients suffering from sciatica, and—”

      “Sciatica is not one-size-fits-all, like the common cold,” Mrs. Fillmore interrupted tersely, as if Tess had insulted her.

      Tess took a deep breath, reminding herself that sciatica often caused profound pain. Maybe that accounted for Mrs. Fillmore’s nasty manner. Chronic pain could suck the joy out of life.

      “Perhaps, if you told me in detail what procedures Ashley uses, and what you find most effective, we could bring you some relief. Although I know it wouldn’t be the same, maybe it would be better than nothing. And, of course, there would be no charge for the service today.”

      As she said that, Tess had to quell a few butterflies, remembering how close to the bone Bell River was operating this first winter season. Rowena was candid about money, which Tess appreciated, because it helped her to know where she stood. Even if they all stood pretty close to the edge.

      Still, surely keeping a repeat client happy— especially one who would freely broadcast her dissatisfaction to the whole town—was worth the price of a massage.

      If Tess had to, she’d take it out of her own pay. Heaven knew she was making more as director than she’d ever expected to as a part-time therapist.

      To her surprise, though, Esther appeared to have lost interest in the conversation. Instead, she seemed to be staring with narrowed eyes at Tess’s necklace. Or was she staring at her chest? Tess’s hand went instinctively up to cover herself, though her uniform was hardly low-cut or revealing.

      “Is everything all right, Mrs. Fillmore?”

      “I...” The woman dragged her gaze up to Tess’s. “Yes. I was just...I was admiring your pendant. Where did you get it?”

      Her tone made Tess uncomfortable, and for a minute she didn’t want to answer. Stupid, but she felt reluctant to even speak of her mother to such a nasty woman.

      Besides, surely that wasn’t really what Mrs. Fillmore had been about to say. Her pendant was pretty, but not ostentatious or, surely, unique.

      Tess didn’t ordinarily wear jewelry while working, but this modest necklace was special to her, and she liked having it on. She always tucked it inside her shirt, but it must have slipped out.

      “It was a gift from my mother,” she said, and tucked the pendant beneath her top.

      Not the whole truth, but close enough. She’d found it among her mother’s things after her death. She wondered why her mother had never worn it. The workmanship was lovely—it was a small teardrop-shaped ruby that formed the bud of a rose, its setting designed like a slim gold stem and two curving gold petals.

      Maybe, she thought, her mother had never worn it because she suspected that one day she’d have to sell it. Who knew how many other gold pieces might have been stashed away in that jewelry box, but sold off, one by one, to make ends meet?

      “Your mother?” Esther frowned, obviously surprised by the answer—and not pleasantly so. “Are you sure?”

      “Of course.” Tess was frowning now, too. She wondered what answer the woman had been expecting. A boyfriend, perhaps? But why would she care?

      “The necklace belonged to my mother,” Tess reiterated blandly. “Now. Would you like me to take over for Ashley, or would you like to rebook?”

      “Neither,” Esther said coldly. “My husband tells me the new resort at Silverdell Hills will have a spa. You people at Bell River might do well to remember that. You won’t be the only game in town anymore.”

      Tess bit her lip briefly, then smiled the best she could. “I’m very sorry we can’t help you, Mrs. Fillmore, but I certainly understand your need—”

      The polite words were wasted. The older woman had already turned her back and, buttoning her coat as she walked, was heading briskly toward the door.

      Though she knew it was irrational, Tess felt deflated by the failure. It would have been so rewarding to overcome the woman’s strange hostility. But oh, well. Let her go home and be her unfortunate husband’s problem for a while.

      Tess took a couple of moments to calm herself, then dove into making the calls. The minutes flew, and when the alarm on her phone trilled she was surprised to see it was time to get ready for her first appointment of the day.

      She was also surprised to see that Craig had called. Eight times. The divorce had been final for two weeks now, and he’d promised to leave her alone. But she’d become a challenge to his pride, no doubt. He didn’t like failing. He used to be a high school–football star, and he still thought of everything in terms of wins and losses. He despised losses.

      Craig was a smooth-talking, self-indulgent former jock who had made it to middle management in her mother’s insurance agency. Their six years of marriage had been a mistake from the start—a rebellion on her part against an upbringing that had been overly strict, big on rules and short on fun.

      She knew now, of course, why her mother had been so stringent, so fearful that her daughter might repeat her own mistakes. But back then, her insistence on no freedom, no car, no boys in the house, no broken curfews—nothing that could encourage sex before marriage—had left Tess eager, at twenty, to marry the first man who made her laugh and gave her presents.

      She sometimes wondered why he’d been willing to marry her. Probably because, otherwise, she wouldn’t have sex with him. She should have. If she had, she would have realized what an insensitive egoist he was, or else he would have checked “Conquer Tess” off his list and moved safely on. If only her mother hadn’t...

      No. She stopped herself right there. Her mother had always insisted on honesty, and the truth was it wasn’t her mother’s fault she’d married Craig. It was her own. She’d fallen for him because he was handsome

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