Cautious, she stayed exactly where she was, counted slowly to twenty, then eased to her feet. She could see no one and let out a long breath of relief. They'd obviously rounded the curve to the bathhouse.
Which was, of course, exactly the path she needed to take to get back to her cottage. She'd have to detour, then, go around the back of that facility and make a dash for her own front door.
With one eye on the path, Caroline bolted to the left, swung into one of the manicured garden areas. Mums were a blaze of color in the shadowy light, and red salvia speared up with its blood-red blooms. She caught a scent in the air.
Flowers and… other. Tobacco, she thought. Someone had passed this way not long before and had been smoking.
Wasn't anyone tucked into bed where he or she belonged?
Praying she'd picked the right direction, and that whoever else was awake and about in the night had chosen another one, she hurried along the meandering path.
She heard a door slam, sharp as a gun shot, and had to lean over and put her head between her knees to get the blood back in her own head.
Now panic came as a giggle that wanted to bubble and burst out of her throat. She tried to swallow it, told herself firmly it was inappropriate, even dangerous. But it trickled out of her as she fled, her rich brown hair flying, her robe flapping cheerfully around her legs.
The bathhouse stood, a majestic shadow under starry skies. She heard nothing from it, saw no figures as she streaked to her front door. She slipped inside, then peeked out through the crack.
King's light was still on, a single beacon in the dark. Hers, she thought, was going out. As soon as she hid her stash.
As she climbed the stairs toward her room, she was grinning.
All in all, it had been one of the most exciting hours of her life.
Her mother's voice sliced through her sleep like a laser. Caroline groped for the duvet, was about to drag it over her head, when Hilda tugged it away.
"No, you don't, lazybones. This is our first full day at the spa. We don't want to waste it sleeping."
"I'm not wasting it. I'm wallowing in it. Go away, Mom."
"Up! Up and out. We're going for a walk. I signed us up for a sunrise stretch class. Didn't I tell you?"
"No. If you'd told me, I'd have killed you."
Hilda let out a bright laugh-reason enough for murder-and patted Caroline's head. "Douglas is paying good money for us to be here, Caroline. We're going to make sure he gets his money's worth."
That was exactly the right weapon out of her mother's considerable arsenal. Heavy eyed, Caroline sat up. Her little nighttime adventure had cost her nearly two hours' sleep. If she was foggy and out of sorts this morning, she had no one to blame but herself.
She focused on her mother's face, then angled her head in consideration. Hilda might have been in full makeup, her hair ruthlessly styled, but the softening Caroline had noticed the night before was still there. "You look rested."
"I am. I'd say that crying jag last night did me a lot of good. Sweetheart, I'm so glad you're here with me. I-no," she said and shook her head briskly. "I'm not going to start that again. No tears today. We're in this fabulous place, and we're going to have a wonderful time."
Because there was something almost desperate in the declaration, Caroline got quickly out of bed. "You're absolutely right. We're going to get oiled and polished and pampered and stretched. We're going home new women."
"And thinner ones. Caroline, if I don't eat soon, I'm going to die."
"Well…" Fighting to keep her face composed, Caroline opened her lingerie drawer and slid her hand under a neat stack of bras and panties. "Want a bread stick?"
Hilda gaped, blinked, then grabbed the treasure her daughter offered. "How did you get this?"
"Don't ask." Caroline waved her away. "Go, enjoy. I'll toss on my exercise gear, pack up my bathing suit, and be ready to stretch in five minutes." She was already pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "I want a long swim, too-and a look at the much-lauded mud baths."
True to her word, Caroline came down the stairs five minutes later. Only to find her mother back in her room engaged in a bitter self-debate over which bathing suit to take.
"Presentation is vital," Hilda explained after the royal blue tank scattered with red poppies had been selected. "Everyone here is somebody. Even my daughter," she added, hooking an arm through Caroline's. Hilda wore hot pink designer sweats. Caroline wore faded and baggy gray. "I want to create the right impression. I mean, honestly, sweetheart, did you see that psychic creature's outfit last night? Horrid. I don't want to end up like that."
"Not a chance. You're beautiful, Mom. You've always been beautiful."
"I've always needed to be. And what's wrong with that?" She laughed, threw back her head. The mountains were jewels of colors in the pink dawn light. The day was just beginning. "You were always beautiful. A beautiful baby, beautiful child, beautiful woman. But you never needed it. Maybe it was because you had your music."
"I never felt beautiful." She hadn't meant to say it. Wasn't sure why she had. And would have shrugged it off if her mother hadn't stopped, turned.
"Caroline." Hilda took her daughter's face in her hands. She realized as she did so that it was a gesture she'd denied both of them. "You are beautiful. And if you don't feel it every time Douglas looks at you, you're not paying attention."
"I love him so much."
"I know. I'm happy for you. I should have told you that before. I should have told you a lot of things before. I'll probably forget to once we're back to our own lives again."
"You told me now."
"I-" Hilda glanced over as the door to the next cottage opened. She saw King briefly as he poked his head out of the door. He wore sunglasses, jeans, and a black leather vest over a bare chest.
He did not look rested.
He slammed the door shut again even as she started to wave.
"How odd."
"Plenty of odd around here," Caroline murmured. She began to walk again. "These people might be rich, but they still make a motley crew."
"Think of all the wonderful gossip we'll have to take home."
"Gossip isn't… well, look at that." Using the toe of her shoe, Caroline prodded the empty pint bottle of Jack Daniel's lying beside the pristine path. "I don't think this is on the spa's menu."
"If Claudia finds out which one of the staff's been drinking, she'll fire him or her on the spot."
"I'd say guest rather than staff. And," Caroline added when the bottle rolled and uncovered a cigarette butt smeared with lipstick, "maybe more than one guest."
"She'll still have a fit. Believe me, I know her. When Claudia says no alcohol, no tobacco, no drugs, no cell phones, she means it. Claudia has a vicious temper. Vicious and cold."
"I believe it," Caroline mused, remembering the barbs in Claudia's voice early that morning. "You never told me how you convinced her to find spots for us here."
Hilda flushed a little, avoiding Caroline's eyes by staring out at the lake. "Let's keep that my little secret. Look, who's that?" Grateful for the distraction, she gestured toward the figure standing on the shore of the lake.
"I couldn't say." Caroline blocked the strengthening sun from her eyes with the flat of her hand and studied the slim redhead dressed in sweater and slacks. Like King, she wore dark glasses and had added a pale green scarf over her tumbled hair.