Theresa grinned. “Yes, there is. And a spa! But I am going to call ahead! Thanks again.”
Theresa quickly moved across the parking lot and got into her steamy car.How do people live here?she asked herself again. She rolled down the windows, cranked up the air-conditioning, and booked a ninety-minute Himalayan salt stone massage and a deep moisturizing facial. She wondered how much time the woman behind the counter had spent in the sun.You could make a belt out of her skin.
It took most of the entire drive back to the hotel before the interior of the car temperature was below eighty degrees. Everything had a shimmer, as if she were looking at a mirage. Theresa remembered her high school earth science teacher explaining that this optical phenomenon wasn’t the heat cooking the brain, but the bending and reflection of light that passes through layers of air with different temperatures. She smirked. She actually remembered something from high school that she thought she had no use for. At least she wasn’t losing her mind. Not yet.
When she pulled into the hotel driveway, a valet dashed toward her car. He was dressed in red shorts, a white shirt, and a visor with the hotel logo printed on it. “Terrible day for working outside,” she noted.
“It’s like this every day this time of year, ma’am.”
The young man had a point. It was the middle of August; it was hot everywhere. She scooted out of his way and briskly walked into the hotel lobby. It felt like a meat locker. It was wonderful. She went into the café and ordered a light salad and then headed to the spa. That, too, was wonderful.
When she entered, she was greeted by the soothing sounds of Native American flute music and the aromas of sage and lavender. A waterfall gently glided down a red-rocked wall. She could feel the tension slowly release. A petite woman greeted her with a bow. No words were exchanged, but Theresa easily followed her cues. She was led to a private changing room where a soft, plush robe and slippers awaited.This is much more like it. A little pampering could go a long way, especially at that moment. She hadn’t anticipated being stonewalled at Sunnydale, and her quick visit to the gardens did not prove enjoyable. She undressed, donned the spa wardrobe, and retreated to a waiting area with another waterfall and padded teak chaise lounges. Another client was supine with slices of cucumber covering her eyes.
Several minutes passed, and a massage therapist nodded in Theresa’s direction. She wondered if anyone spoke. When they entered the therapy room, the masseuse whispered something to her. Theresa had to bend her head in the woman’s direction to hear her clearly.
“You are getting a Himalayan salt massage, correct?”
“Yes,” Theresa whispered in return.
“Are there any areas of your body you would like me to concentrate on?” Again, her voice was at an almost inaudible level.
My hearing?She joked to herself. “Wherever you think I need it the most.” She climbed onto the table, got situated, and let the therapist do her thing. Theresa let all the tension drain from her body as the woman gently released the knots in her neck. She realized that one doesn’t know they need a massage until they are in the midst of one. She thanked the heat for driving her indoors and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Two
Welcome to Sunnydale
Tempe, Arizona
Seventy-two-year-old Frida Larsen listened intently to the melodious voice of the thirtysomething woman dressed in a beige linen suit. The young woman was attractive but not glamorous and had a pleasant but businesslike air to her. She stood next to a large screen as she clicked through the slides and explained the advantages in investing money in the Sunnydale Securities Firm.
“We will allocate your monthly expenses and make sure all your bills are paid on time. This is a service I am certain you can appreciate. You don’t have to worry about writing out checks and balancing your accounts. Our service will provide the necessary transactions each month while you experience your retirement playing golf, tennis, or simply enjoying whatever strikes your fancy each and every day, worry-free. In addition, we will also allocate funds into a separate interest-bearing account so you will continue to make money on the money you already have. Our program is seamless.”
Frida raised her hand. “Do you mean you will be investing our money?”
“We can certainly provide that service in a separate account we will set up for you.”
“And what is the fee?” Frida asked.
“We charge a minimal fee of twenty dollars per month, per account.” The woman smiled broadly.
Frida furrowed her brow. “If I am understanding you correctly, if I have only one account, then it’s only twenty dollars per month.”
“That is correct.” The woman continued to smile. “It’s less than a dollar a day to have the peace of mind knowing you will never have to pay late fees for bills you may have overlooked. We take the worry out of it.”
Frida nodded and looked at the dozen others staring blankly at the front of the room.
“I have prepared a packet of information that outlines our simple program. I have also included my business card and wrote my private number on the back. I want my clients to be assured they have a direct line to me at any time.” She looked around for more hands. “You don’t have to worry, because all of our conversations are strictly confidential.” She checked the room one more time. “Thank you very much for your time, and I look forward to working with each and every one of you. Have a lovely evening.” The woman walked to the door, her quiet assistant at the ready with the brochures. As people were leaving, the well-manicured woman clasped each attendee’s hand in both of hers, intimating a personal connection.
Frida was still befuddled. She had recently moved to Sunnydale at the urging of her daughter and son-in-law. They wanted her to be close by, but not too close, and they wanted her to be in a safe environment. Sunnydale provided both, all within an hour’s drive from where they lived.
A man with a friendly face approached her. “Hello. My name is Henry. Henry Pushkin.”
Frida was startled at first but appreciated his kind eyes. “Hello yourself. I’m Frida Larsen.” Frida was five feet, five inches tall, with an average build. Her white hair was cut in a pixie style that surrounded her big blue Nordic eyes.
“New resident?”
“Ya. Just got here a little over a week ago.”
