He nodded, holding the door as she passed through.
Jess hurried down the corridor toward the main building, her sandals silent against the polished floor. At the junction where the glass hallway met the historic structure, she paused and glanced back. Logan still stood in the doorway, perfectly still, watching her go. The sunlight streamed around him, casting his figure in silhouette - solid and substantial against the gleaming water beyond.
For a breath, they looked at each other across the distance, acknowledging what had passed between them without words.
Then Jess turned and continued toward the lobby, her pace quickening as if she could outrun the confusion in her heart.
24
Island Serenity Spawas on the eastern edge of Nantucket, its white clapboard exterior gleaming in the spring sunshine.
Nadine led the way up the shell-lined path, her canvas tote bag swinging with purpose as she pushed through the frosted glass doors with the precise efficiency of a woman who had never been late to anything in her life. Behind her, Sloane and Megan followed at a more leisurely pace, their faces tilted upward to catch the warming April sun.
"Fifteen minutes early is on time, on time is late," Nadine called over her shoulder. She tapped her watch meaningfully. "And the bride-to-be is officially seven minutes late."
The spa's interior enveloped them in gentle tranquility - whitewashed walls adorned with black and white photographs of Nantucket beaches, diffused natural light filtering through louvered windows, and the soothing scent of eucalyptus steam mingling with sea salt. A small stone fountain burbled in the corner, its gentle music underpinning the hushed voices of staff and clients.
"Hey Lisa,” Nadine announced to the receptionist, a serene woman with silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun. “Bridalpackage with facials, massages, and salt scrubs. Our fourth will be here momentarily." Her tone suggested that Jess's tardiness was personally offensive, a disruption to the precisely calibrated schedule she had constructed.
"Of course. Welcome.” The receptionist's smile remained unruffled as she handed over a stack of plush robes and soft slippers. "The eucalyptus steam room is ready whenever you'd like to begin."
As Megan signed the registration form, Nadine's phone trilled - a crisp, professional ringtone that cut through the spa's tranquil atmosphere like a knife. She glanced at the screen, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly.
"I need to take this. Continue without me," she said, already moving toward a quiet alcove near the window. Her shoulders squared as she answered, voice dropping to a hushed murmur that didn't carry across the space.
Sloane watched her go - the sudden tension in Nadine's spine, the way her free hand curled into a fist at her side, the deliberate step away from potential listeners.
"Something's up with her," she observed quietly, accepting her robe from the receptionist with a nod of thanks.
Megan glanced up from the treatment menu she'd been browsing, looking toward where Nadine now stood with her back to them. “Classic A-type.”
"No, it's something else." Sloane's eyes narrowed slightly. "Look at her hand."
In the alcove, Nadine's fingers tapped rapidly against her thigh - a nervous gesture entirely at odds with her usual controlled demeanor. Her face had paled, and as she spoke into the phone, she pressed her lips together in a tight line.
"I get it," she was saying, voice barely audible across the space. "But that wasn't the agreement... Yes, I realize thetimeline has shifted, but the original arrangement still stands." A pause. "No, absolutely not. We had a deal."
Megan finally noticed, her brow furrowing with concern. "Maybe it's some other wedding-related crisis? The flowers or something?"
"Maybe," Sloane conceded, though her expression remained doubtful. "But she looks more like someone negotiating a hostage release than discussing floral centerpieces."
Across the room, Nadine ended her call with a sharp tap to the screen. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned back toward them with a smile so professionally bright it could have illuminated a photography studio.
"All sorted," she announced, returning to their side with brisk steps. "Just finalizing details for tonight’s dinner. Where were we?"
Sloane caught her eye. “You sure everything’s okay? Anything we can help with.”
"All under control,” Nadine replied with a dismissive wave.
Sloane's expression remained skeptical, but before she could press further, the receptionist led them toward a sliding bamboo door.
The changing room continued the spa's aesthetic of understated luxury - polished cedar lockers, limestone-tiled floors warmed from below, and woven baskets filled with artisanal soaps and lotions. As they changed, Sloane kept a subtle eye on Nadine, noting how she checked her phone three times while hanging up her carefully pressed linen shirt.
"Anyone word on Jess?" Megan asked, wrapping the plush robe around her curves and tying the belt with a comfortable sigh.
Nadine's mouth tightened. "She said she was at the Harbor House finalizing details.” She glanced at her watch again, herfree hand unconsciously resuming that rapid tapping against her thigh.
"The Harbor House," Sloane repeated thoughtfully. "Isn't that where - "
