2
Tom was still seething over his meeting with the mayor when he left the office and headed for the Serenity Inn. The prospect of a long, empty evening in his hotel room held little appeal. He needed some exercise, something so strenuous that it would drive all thoughts of that ridiculous conversation from his head.
On his way to his room, he stopped at the front desk and asked Maybelle Hawkins if there was a health club in town. She frowned at the question.
“Well, now, there’s Dexter’s Gym, but I’ll tell you the truth, the place is a dump. I hear Dexter has real good equipment over there and once in a while he slaps a fresh coat of paint on the walls, but that’s the extent of any renovations he’s done in the past thirty years. Men don’t seem to notice, but the women complained for years, for all the good it did.”
“So Dexter’s Gym is my only choice?” Tom wasn’t averse to the smell of sweat or even a shabby decor, but he questioned whether a place like that would keep its equipment in good repair, despite what Maybelle said. “I thought I’d read something in a regional magazine about a place called The Corner Spa.”
Maybelle’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s another story,” she said. “Just walking through the door is a soothing experience. The owners took an old Victorian house at Main Street and Palmetto Lane and turned it into something special. I haven’t used any of the fancy machines, but I’ve had a facial and a mud bath. Mud! Can you imagine such a thing? To tell you the truth, though, I never felt better.”
Tom nodded. “Sounds like the perfect place,” he said. He seemed to recall that the article had been equally glowing.
“It is, but you can forget about it,” Mabel said, an oddly triumphant glint in her eyes.
“Why is that?”
“It’s only open to women. After all those years of pleading with Dexter to fix his place up, they finally have a place of their own.”
“You’re telling me that The Corner Spa discriminates?” he said, his ire stirring. “And nobody’s sued?”
Maybelle gave him a blank look. “Why would they? It’s a spa for women. You men have had your private clubs and private golf courses for years. Now a few women get together and open something just for women and you want to sue? Give me a break.”
Tom winced. His father had belonged to several of those private, men-only clubs, in fact. That wasn’t the point, though. This was a business, supposedly open to the public.
“Come on,” he said. “You know it’s morally wrong, probably illegal.” He’d have to research that, look into those law books his father had bought in the hope that Tom would one day open his own law office in Charleston, actually use the law degree he’d earned.
Maybelle didn’t seem the least bit impressed with his argument. “You’d have to take that up with one of the owners, but I’ll warn you about that. Helen Decatur’s the smartest attorney in town. Nobody with any sense goes against her.”
Tom nodded slowly. Given his current annoyance over the way his first day on the job had gone, the prospect of challenging a business that blatantly discriminated based on gender held a lot of appeal. He could channel his sour mood into that fight, instead of waging a fruitless battle with Howard over the Christmas festival.
Then again, if one of his first acts as a resident of Serenity was to sue a popular attorney and business owner, it might mark the beginning of the end of his career as town manager. He’d have to give that some thought.
He gave Maybelle a distracted smile. “Thanks. I appreciate the information.”
After a quick trip to his room to change into jeans, an old University of South Carolina T-shirt and sneakers, he headed downtown at a brisk pace. He’d probably wind up at Dexter’s, but first he wanted to get a good look at this fancy spa.
He made a few wrong turns, but eventually he found it. There was something classy and welcoming about the old Victorian.
He climbed the steps to the porch and peered in a window. The equipment inside looked top-notch. A dozen or so women were using the treadmills and the elliptical cross-trainers, and he spotted a couple of men in there, as well. Hoping Maybelle had gotten the membership restrictions wrong, he was about to open the door and step inside to find out, when he heard brisk footsteps behind him.
“May I help you?” a woman queried, halting him in his tracks. Despite the slow Southern drawl of her voice, somehow she made the question sound more like a challenge than an offer of assistance.
He turned and faced a pixie of a woman with very short dark hair and huge, dark eyes. If he hadn’t heard that drawl in her voice, he would have guessed her to be European. Her clothes had a French flair about them. Even though the outfit—really only jeans and a T-shirt—could easily have come from the local discount store, the low-heeled, ballet-style shoes and the artful twist of the scarf at her neck reminded him of the innate fashion sense he’d seen on the Left Bank in Paris during the summer he’d spent there after college. He had very fond memories of those days—and of the women he’d met.
He gave her his most winning smile. “That depends. Do you happen to have any pull at this place?”
“I’m not one of the owners, if that’s what you’re asking. Maddie meets with all prospective suppliers. I can give you her card.”
“I’m not a supplier. I want to join.”
“Sorry. We’re only open to women.”
“But I see a couple of men inside,” he protested.
“Personal trainers. They’re the only men allowed inside during business hours. I’d be happy to give you directions to Dexter’s, if you don’t know your way around town.”
“I can find it,” he said tersely. “You know, the women-only rule is probably illegal.”
The suggestion didn’t fluster her in the least.
“I seriously doubt it,” she said, looking amused. “I’m sure that Helen Decatur—she’s also an owner—covered that when she incorporated the spa. I can give you her card, too, if you’d like.”
Letting the legal issues pass for the moment, Tom studied her speculatively, allowing his gaze to linger in a way meant to disconcert her. “When do you offer me your card?”
“I don’t, unless you happen to be peddling skin creams, aromatherapy products or spa attire. Unfortunately, we’ve already established that you’re not.”
There was a gloating note in her voice that irked him. Instead of letting his irritation show, he turned on his charm. “That is a shame, isn’t it? Maybe we can find something else we have in common.”
The amusement in her remarkable eyes vanished. “I doubt that,” she said coolly. “Have a good evening.”
She opened the door, stepped inside, then shut it very firmly in his face. He had a hunch if the spa hadn’t been open for another hour, she’d have turned the lock, as well.
Tom stared after her. His annoyance over the spa’s discrimination against men had suddenly
