Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(4)

I chew a raisin, stirring a handful into the hot cereal as I walk out onto the front porch. I pulled my dingy wicker chair out of the garden shed last week, and now it waits for me. I sit, eating, staring out at the water. A gray strip of fog hovers on the horizon, but I spot the ferry, a pinprick in the blue cloth laid out in front of me. Some days I never move from my chair except to get another cup of tea or a sandwich, wrapped in my fleece cocoon, the angle of the house such that the wind misses this spot. I watch the ferries come and go, the top of an occasional car or bike that passes below the green strip of grass that slides down over a small hill to the road.

Today, though, I don’t stay. I finish my oatmeal and carry the empty bowl into the house, to the kitchen, and rinse it out in the sink. I get dressed in my usual uniform of jeans, T-shirt and fleece pullover and put on the sneakers that I’d shed the night before. I grab my backpack and go outside. My bike is propped up next to the back door. I don’t lock it up. Steve tells me I’m too trusting, that bikes can go missing even here.

I know what happens when something goes missing.

So far, though, no one has ever taken it.

I throw my leg over the seat and shift a little so I’m comfortable, pushing the pedals until I’m flying over the hill and down toward Old Harbor. The National Hotel is open, advertising lunch and dinner, and many of the shops are hanging out their shingles and waiting for the big summer business that’s on its way. I think about stopping in at The Beaches Gallery, where my paintings are on sale, but I’m not in the mood at the moment to talk to Veronica, the owner. She is a bit high maintenance, and I’m in a hurry. So I continue down past the Surf Hotel, slowing as I go around the corner, and there’s the building. A small, squat clapboard house with a long deck overlooking the water. Sunswept Spa. Next to the Mohegan Bluffs, it is possibly my favorite place on the island.

I lock up the bike in the rack next to the parking lot and make my way up the steps. The soft tinkling of a bell sounds as I push the door open, and the scent of cloves hits my nose. I breathe deeply, all the stress of my nighttime wonderings melting out of my shoulders.

‘Nicole!’ Jeanine leans in and kisses me first on one cheek and then on the other. Very European. She is wearing a short-sleeved, lacy top and a long knit wraparound skirt. Her blonde hair, piled on top of her head and pinned with chopsticks, smells like strawberries. ‘What a surprise!’ She takes a step back and assesses me. When I first met her, this bothered me – the way she studies me every time I see her. But this is what makes her good at her job, owning this spa. ‘You need stones today,’ Jeanine says matter-of-factly, going around the dark wooden counter and checking the appointment book. ‘I have an hour before my first client.’

‘I really just wanted to take a yoga class.’ The class starts in five minutes; I checked the schedule before I left the house. I have yoga pants and a mesh shirt in my backpack.

She frowns. ‘That’s not what you need. Your energy is off, you need some balance.’ With that, she takes my hand and leads me down the hall, through the waiting room and a door that leads to the private rooms. She gently pushes me into one, the dim light making it seem as if it were twilight instead of early morning. ‘Undress. I’ll be back in a few.’

The door shuts gently behind her, and I stand for a moment. I am used to Jeanine’s way but I am still a bit thrown because this is not what I’ve come for. I am not used to asserting myself anymore, however, so I shrug off the backpack and begin peeling off the clothes I’d just put on not twenty minutes ago. When Jeanine comes back, I am face down under the sheet, the warmth from the padded table soaking into my skin. I’m still a little tense, but the anxiety starts to ease. She doesn’t say a word, but I hear the stones clicking against each other, the water in their bath sloshing. In moments, a heavy stone is sitting on my lower back. The heat penetrates my body, and I sigh before I can stop myself.

Jeanine chuckles and puts two more stones on my spine. I welcome them and want to be covered completely. I want to crawl into their bath and feel their smoothness all around me.

As my eyes droop and close, I realize she is right. I need this.

My muscles feel like Jell-O as I dress. Jeanine has left me alone again; my body is warm and tingly. I will need a shower to wash off the oils she’s used, but for now I relish the slick feeling of my skin, drink in the aroma. I glance in the mirror and smooth my hair back into a short ponytail, tendrils framing my face. I don’t look nearly as old as I did earlier. When I’m dressed, I leave the room, squinting as the brighter lights outside stab my eyes. Jeanine is at the counter again, and she smiles at me.

‘You feel better now, don’t you?’

‘You just like to rub it in.’

She laughs. ‘Oh, rub it in, yeah, I get that.’

I don’t even realize that I was making a joke, but I go along with it.

‘Plans today?’ she asks as she rings up my bill. She gives me a discount because we’re friends.

I shrug. ‘Not sure yet,’ I say. I have a flashback to a time when I always had plans. I shudder, wondering where that came from.

‘Must be nice,’ Jeanine says, but it’s not in a jealous way. She loves her job and knows how hard I work during the season. ‘Want to meet for dinner tonight?’

I nod. ‘I’ll call you later.’