“Sorry, miss. We got here early, so we decided to get started. I’ve already massaged your other two friends, Bri and Mara? And after we’re done with these two, it will be y’all’s’s turn,” the masseuse said, with a practiced smile.

I was surprised to hear that Bri and Mara had beat us back to the house. Almost as surprised as I was to see them hanging out together. I adored Mara, but something about her buddying up with Bri, after I told her how cold Asher’s sister had been to me, didn’t feel right. Especially in light of those obnoxious letters I received last night. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to. Why was she suddenly so interested in Bri?

“No thanks. I’ll pass on the massage,” Tinsley said, shifting her bags to her other hip. To me, she said, “I’m going upstairs to shower and change.”

As she headed for the stairs, I stepped further into the room. Georgia was lying on the other table beside Elizabeth, hair fanned around her head like a bright sunny halo. I couldn’t see her glowing face. My thoughts drifted back to that ugly message on her cell phone last night. Who was threatening her and why?

“Are you feeling better, Georgia?” I said, tentatively. But she didn’t answer.

“I think she fell asleep,” her small, dark-headed masseuse said, giving me an apologetic smile. She was rubbing Georgia’s shoulders softly, as though she were a big, cuddly baby lying on the table. I couldn’t help noticing how fit her shoulders and calve muscles were, bringing back thoughts of Asher, hanging out at her yoga studio with his gym membership.

“Georgia’s fine. Just tired,” Elizabeth said. She turned her head in the other direction, dismissing me.

“Bri and Mara already returned?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re upstairs with the makeup artist, picking out nail colors, I believe. They were quite … rowdy,” the blonde masseuse said. She was busy kneading, leaning her whole body into Elizabeth’s bony backside.

I headed upstairs to get changed, eager to strip out of my clothes and towel off, I was annoyed to find both Bri and Mara in my room, alongside another woman I didn’t know.

“Oh, hi there! I’m LeeAnn!” The woman practically accosted me, pumping my hand up and down before I could barely put my bags away. “Congrats on your wedding!” she boomed. “I’m LeeAnn,” she repeated, “and I’m here to do your hair and makeup for a fun night out with the girls. Your friends here were just debating what colors go best with your outfit.”

“My outfit?” I said, wearily.