Chapter One
I couldn’t believe I was doing this on my own. I eased the
BMW down the dirt road, keeping my eyes peeled for a nudist welcoming committee
or rogue shamans. It was tempting to turn around and blaze out of here, hit the
highway back to Silicon Valley and pretend I was just out for a long scenic
drive.
Charlotte would kill me if I did that. We’d promised each
other we would check into the Daydream Retreat for few days, take some time
off, lose some weight, meditate, all that jazz. It was supposed to be a hippie-type
place with crystals and hot tubs, which sounded fun…at the time.
“We’re adults, Alanna,” my best friend had said, slurring a
bit after her fourth beer. “We graduated, baby! We’ve got nine-to-fives and the
next step is to embrace our quarter-life crisis.”
Crisis? More like quarter-life slump.
“Have another beer,” Charlotte had said when I’d questioned
her about the exact definition of quarter-life. “We’re close enough to
twenty-five. Mid-life crisis has a huge age window, so why can’t we start ours
right after graduation?”
I’d made the move from college student to adult—on paper, at
least. I had an apartment and a plush new job at a software startup that paid really well. But not even six months into the job and my parents were making noises
about finding Mr. Right and asking way too many pointed questions about
my love life, or lack thereof.
So I’d bitten the bullet and checked into a wellness
retreat. Only to find out this morning that Charlotte had mumps. Of all
illnesses, she had to go get something serious. I didn’t have the heart to
argue over the phone when she insisted I still go to Daydream, especially when
she sounded so pathetic. That’s why I was driving down this stupid dirt road
right now. Besides, my boss was cool with my taking some time off as long as I
replied to urgent emails and did a bit of coding on the side.
Just when I thought maybe I’d taken the wrong turn, I
finally drove into the parking lot. There were not one, but two flower-covered
camper vans and a couple of motorcycles, both with sidecars. Groaning, I parked
as far away from everyone as I could.
I cut the engine before I could wuss out of the whole thing.
Going to Daydream had been Charlotte’s plan, so I had no clue what went on
here, apart from a vague idea of meditation and hot tubs and log cabins. We’d
been pretty drunk when we booked.
I scoped the place out. There was a gardener leaning on a
shovel at the end of the parking lot, shirtless and staring at my car. I stared
back through the double protection of tinted windows and oversized sunglasses. Damn ,
he was ripped. Of course, he probably got a ton of exercise in this place with
all its high-maintenance greenery and varied plants. Hell, keeping grass green
in this part of California was probably a full-time job in itself.
The guy’s six-pack contracted as he shifted position,
checking something off on a clipboard. He looked up again as I got out of the
car to begin getting my stuff out of the trunk. A year or two ago I might have
flattered myself, thinking he was looking at me. But I was no fool. Dude was
checking out my car, not my slightly-too-big ass.
No matter, I’d be in a cabin soon, enjoying air conditioning
and WiFi. I could treat this place like working from home…with worse food,
probably.
Laptop, check. Headphones, iPod, new smartphone, emergency
stash of chocolate, check. I was good to go.
I stole a casual look over my shoulder as I made my way
toward the front office. Yeah, he was totally looking my way. I drew myself up
a little taller, sucked in my stomach, kind of wishing he was still looking at
my car. I was almost relieved when I got inside and away from his intense gaze.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist piped. Petite,
gray-haired and practically glowing from exuberance and health, she glanced up
from her computer with a bright smile.
“Yeah, uh, I booked in a few weeks
I couldn’t believe I was doing this on my own. I eased the
BMW down the dirt road, keeping my eyes peeled for a nudist welcoming committee
or rogue shamans. It was tempting to turn around and blaze out of here, hit the
highway back to Silicon Valley and pretend I was just out for a long scenic
drive.
Charlotte would kill me if I did that. We’d promised each
other we would check into the Daydream Retreat for few days, take some time
off, lose some weight, meditate, all that jazz. It was supposed to be a hippie-type
place with crystals and hot tubs, which sounded fun…at the time.
“We’re adults, Alanna,” my best friend had said, slurring a
bit after her fourth beer. “We graduated, baby! We’ve got nine-to-fives and the
next step is to embrace our quarter-life crisis.”
Crisis? More like quarter-life slump.
“Have another beer,” Charlotte had said when I’d questioned
her about the exact definition of quarter-life. “We’re close enough to
twenty-five. Mid-life crisis has a huge age window, so why can’t we start ours
right after graduation?”
I’d made the move from college student to adult—on paper, at
least. I had an apartment and a plush new job at a software startup that paid really well. But not even six months into the job and my parents were making noises
about finding Mr. Right and asking way too many pointed questions about
my love life, or lack thereof.
So I’d bitten the bullet and checked into a wellness
retreat. Only to find out this morning that Charlotte had mumps. Of all
illnesses, she had to go get something serious. I didn’t have the heart to
argue over the phone when she insisted I still go to Daydream, especially when
she sounded so pathetic. That’s why I was driving down this stupid dirt road
right now. Besides, my boss was cool with my taking some time off as long as I
replied to urgent emails and did a bit of coding on the side.
Just when I thought maybe I’d taken the wrong turn, I
finally drove into the parking lot. There were not one, but two flower-covered
camper vans and a couple of motorcycles, both with sidecars. Groaning, I parked
as far away from everyone as I could.
I cut the engine before I could wuss out of the whole thing.
Going to Daydream had been Charlotte’s plan, so I had no clue what went on
here, apart from a vague idea of meditation and hot tubs and log cabins. We’d
been pretty drunk when we booked.
I scoped the place out. There was a gardener leaning on a
shovel at the end of the parking lot, shirtless and staring at my car. I stared
back through the double protection of tinted windows and oversized sunglasses. Damn ,
he was ripped. Of course, he probably got a ton of exercise in this place with
all its high-maintenance greenery and varied plants. Hell, keeping grass green
in this part of California was probably a full-time job in itself.
The guy’s six-pack contracted as he shifted position,
checking something off on a clipboard. He looked up again as I got out of the
car to begin getting my stuff out of the trunk. A year or two ago I might have
flattered myself, thinking he was looking at me. But I was no fool. Dude was
checking out my car, not my slightly-too-big ass.
No matter, I’d be in a cabin soon, enjoying air conditioning
and WiFi. I could treat this place like working from home…with worse food,
probably.
Laptop, check. Headphones, iPod, new smartphone, emergency
stash of chocolate, check. I was good to go.
I stole a casual look over my shoulder as I made my way
toward the front office. Yeah, he was totally looking my way. I drew myself up
a little taller, sucked in my stomach, kind of wishing he was still looking at
my car. I was almost relieved when I got inside and away from his intense gaze.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist piped. Petite,
gray-haired and practically glowing from exuberance and health, she glanced up
from her computer with a bright smile.
“Yeah, uh, I booked in a few weeks
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