<< Go Back

Mac, Sisters by Design, book 1

By Sharon Srock

Order Now!

Chapter 1
“Stop telling me what to do! I hate you!”
“Riley…” Mackenzie Soeurs flinched as the slamming back door accented her son’s words.
“This is what happens when you turn your back on your upbringing. That boy needs some religious discipline back in his life, Mackenzie!”
Mac dug her fingers into the tense muscles at the back of her neck. “Not now, Mom.”
“He’s going to hell, and you’re stamping his ticket.”
Mac let her head fall forward. Let it go…let it go…let it go. “This move’s been hard on him. He’ll come around.” And he’ll do it without the poison of your warped, narrow version of religion. She didn’t say it aloud, but the words danced dangerously close to her lips.
Her mother’s brows came together in a familiar frown. “If his father were still alive…”
Mac tuned it out. Nothing was going to change her mother’s opinion. That she continued to harp months after leaving their old life behind was proof enough of that.
“I have to get to the spa. I’m teaching my first fitness class this morning, and I’ve got someone coming in to help with the aquarium.”
“Waste of good time and money if you ask me. A spa for women.” The last four words dripped sarcasm as she narrowed her eyes at Mac. “A woman’s place is in the home, not out gallivanting. If you spent a little more time being the mother you were taught to be, maybe your son wouldn’t be running wild.”
The spa, like Riley, remained a bone of contention despite the fact that it put a roof over their heads and food in the pantry. “Breakfast is on the table, your lunch is in the fridge. If I get a break between clients, I’ll come check on you this afternoon.”
“Bah…” The old woman clumped the rest of the way into the kitchen aided by her walker. “Don’t bother. I know how to take care of myself.” She lowered herself into a chair and reached for a biscuit. Steam rose over the table as she split the soft mound in two, filling the kitchen with the aroma of warm bread.
Mac left her there. The morning confrontation with Riley had cost precious minutes she didn’t have to spare. But questions nagged at her as she prepared to leave. Is he running wild because I’m too busy? Has the change in culture been too much too fast? She couldn’t figure it out. They finally had the freedom to live their lives without the restrictions The Body had imposed on its followers. She was thriving. Her business was thriving. Why was the transition proving to be so difficult for her son?
Keys in hand, she grabbed her gym bag and tried to put the ugly scene behind her. She reached for the door.
“Mackenzie!”
The demanding tone of the summons clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw ached. I could just leave…pretend I didn’t hear her. Years of training bit into her half-formed thoughts of rebellion. The bag thudded to the floor, and Mac made her way back to the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, arms crossed, mouth drawn down in disapproval.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Her mother glared at her over folded arms. “My strawberry preserves are not on the table.”
The pressure of Mac’s grip threatened to fuse the keys in her hand into a crumpled blob of metal. She made a conscious effort to relax her fingers, opened the refrigerator, located the missing condiment, and crossed the six feet to the table. Mac marveled at her own restraint when the glass jar came to rest in front of her mother with a gentle thump instead of the crash her fraying patience demanded.
“Anything else?”
Her mother reached for the jar. “You may go.”
The abrupt dismissal rankled, but she turned without a word and backtracked to the front door. The mother I was raised to be? Mac closed her eyes. I hope not!
I love my mother. Mac scolded herself. Even when I’m tempted to believe those feelings aren’t reciprocated. Tempted? Mac searched her memory. I love you didn’t seem to be a part of her mother’s vocabulary.
Bringing the older woman on this leg of their journey hadn’t been a part of Mac’s original exit strategy. But her mother’s deteriorating health derailed her plans to leave her behind. Anna Moore was a strong-willed and independent woman. Her stroke four years ago had sucked the independence from her life, and despite the will that remained, she couldn’t live by herself any longer. So she came west with Mac and Riley, pronouncing fire and brimstone over every mile of the journey.
Mom made her objections to Mac’s plans to separate herself and Riley from the social and religious confines of The Body clear from day one. Mac was going to hell for forsaking the teaching of the…
Mac searched for a word, never sure what to call it, even after thirty years of living in it. Commune…organization…cult?
“Mackenzie!”
Her fingers clenched on the knob, and her shoulders bunched. Cult…today it’s a cult. Mac sailed through the door without a backward glance. If she didn’t get out of the house, her sanity would be history along with her schedule.
The short drive to the spa calmed her nerves. Spring was coming to Garfield, Oklahoma. The signs of new life reflected Mac’s hopes for this fresh start. The question had been asked, by more than one new acquaintance, how someone from a tiny community in the mountains of New York State had ended up in small town Oklahoma. No, she didn’t have family here. No, she’d never visited as a child. Mac smiled to herself as she drove, knowing if she told them, no one would believe the truth about her previous life or her journey from there to here.
Mac remembered full well how she’d ended up in Garfield. After she’d completed her associates degree and received her ACE certification, she’d hung a map of the U.S. on the wall of her tiny apartment and tossed a dart. Mac lifted a shoulder.
The minute they’d worked out the details of Kevin’s estate, she began making plans to leave behind the confines of home and the restrictive religious practices of her husband and family.
Mac took a breath and waited for some bit of grief to cross her heart. Nothing came. After thirteen years of marriage, she’d have thought there’d be some feeling of loss. All she felt was a mixture of gratitude, relief, and guilt. Gratitude that Kevin had been less rigid than other men in the community, and he’d left her well provided for. Relief that the marriage arranged by her parents was over. Guilt that any sadness at his passing was so over shadowed with reprieve. She was finally free.
And as it turned out, her lucky dart had known what it was doing. Garfield was a pretty little town surrounded by larger ones in all four directions. A thriving community where signs of growth and progress existed in new store fronts all along Main Street. A place where quiet ambiance had spoken to something deep inside on that first visit. A place where no one had ever heard of The Body. A place where peace…if peace were possible for someone like her…might be found.
Mac pulled into her parking spot behind Soeurs Body Renaissance, a fancy French name for what she hoped was a comfortable place. Well, she amended, not too comfortable for her new fitness clients. She glanced at the time. Seven-thirty. The spa opened for general business at nine, but her first fitness class started at eight. Mac had thirty precious minutes to herself.
The back door opened into a small hallway with a tiny kitchen area on one side and the restrooms on the other. Turning lights on as she went, Mac bypassed the two massage cubicles and the matching facial treatment rooms and entered the main spa area. Six pedicure chairs lined the west wall, facing an equal number of nail stations on the east. The street entrance was on the north wall, fronted by a small waiting space on one side, her pride and joy on the other.
She toggled the light on the top of the massive one hundred seventy-five gallon salt water aquarium, grinning at the way the fish congregated in the corner closest to her. Large and small, colorful and plain, fins waving, mouths puffing, all confident that feeding time was the next thing on her agenda.
Mac tisked at the slight haze of algae on the inside of the glass. Removing it was a daily job and always at the top of her list on Monday morning, until today. “Morning everyone. I have a surprise for you guys.” The fish wiggled in apparent anticipation. “I’ve hired someone to come in every Monday morning to clean your tank and freshen your water.” Mac sprinkled dried food over the top of the water. The fish danced and swirled in their bid for the choicest tidbits. Their colorful ballet never got old.
“Now don’t think that means I don’t love you. You all know I do, but business is booming, and I don’t have the time I had when I adopted you guys six months ago. I’ll still take care of the day-to-day stuff, and I’ll have a sharp eye on Dane Cooper. He comes highly recommended, but if he mistreats you,” Mac jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “he’s out of here.”
The ever changing vista inside the tank finished the job the drive started. The remaining tension rolled off her shoulders. The aquarium was a huge investment in both time and money, but the relaxation benefits were more than worth it. A good thing, since it was the only entertainment allowed in this portion of the spa.
Not that she could keep her clients from bringing in their cell phones and tablets. As long as they kept the volume turned off, that was their choice. But there was no Wi-Fi offered here, no TVs blaring from every corner of the room. Here, the background noise was the peaceful bubbling of the aquarium filters, along with the recorded sound of rain falling in a forest, accented by the occasional sound of a bird or insect. She’d lived without a TV for the first thirty years of her life. Her clients would survive a two-hour stretch.
She jogged up the stairs to the second level. Here the pampering stopped and the hard work began. Her workout clients would expect her to push them a bit, and that exercise session started with a climb up the steep staircase. When the lights came on, Mac allowed her gaze to sweep the newly outfitted room.
Mindful of disturbing the peaceful atmosphere she tried to maintain downstairs, she’d taken special precautions here to keep the exercise noise contained. The large room had extra insulation in the walls, new carpet over heavy duty pad on the floor. Brightly colored exercise mats covered most of the open space, filling the room with the smell of new vinyl. Mac gave the weight stations and equipment lining the walls a quick inspection and nodded her satisfaction. Everything was ready.
This morning’s group would be the first. She’d opened the downstairs portion of the business eleven months ago, starting with manis and pedis and a plan to expand into massage and fitness as her clientele grew. Mac had anticipated a year before adding massages and facials to the mix, maybe two before adding the fitness option. All of her expansion was dependent on the reception of her clients. To say that the spa had been well received by the women in Garfield would be a gross understatement.
Soeurs blossomed like a garden in a spring rain, allowing her to open the fitness portion months ahead of her projected schedule. If she’d believed in a benevolent God, she would have thanked Him. Instead her thanks went to Kevin’s elder sister, the catalyst of her escape.
“Get out while you can.”
Elaine’s words echoed, the best advice Mac had ever received. The older woman, also widowed, had come to say goodbye to her brother and stayed long enough to share her experiences in the outside world, encouraging Mac to break free of The Body while she had the chance.
“Escape while you can, Mackenzie. There’s freedom out there. Freedom to choose your own path. Freedom to live, to breathe, to believe whatever you want. I know it’s scary, but it’s a choice I’ve never regretted.”
So she’d swallowed her fear and turned her back on the harsh teachings of her youth and the dire consequences they predicted for a woman operating in a man’s world. Yes, her mother had objected, refusing to see anything but selfishness in Mac’s motives. And Mom was partially right. Mac had made the choice for herself, and she was proud of what she’d accomplished. But her dreams were secondary. She’d been so certain that Riley would benefit as well. She closed her eyes. What am I doing wrong?
* * *
Dane Cooper, jack of all trades, master of most, smirked at the sign on the new storefront.
Soeurs Body Renaissance
“Pretentious much?” He recognized the first word as French from a tedious year spent studying the language in high school. Dane frowned and tilted his head as if both motions would pull the barely remembered lessons out of the dark ether of his memory. He shook his head. Nope, I got nothing. He’d ask his baby sister, Jessica, next time he saw her. She’d aced the class five years after he’d failed it.
Dane climbed out of his van and relegated undecipherable French words to the back of his mind. The early morning sun washed over him and sent his mind wandering away from work. After a week of spring rain, today was predicted to be warm and dry. The pond on his grandpop’s property called to him. The big bass that snapped his line a couple of weeks ago mocked him while the image of Bosco dozing in the sun as he walked the bank sorely tempted Dane’s sense of responsibility. Get a grip, Cooper, there’s work to be done. He shook himself out of the daydream and continued to the rear of the van, stopping on his way to the back doors to admire the lettering on the side of his new ride.
D.C.’s Do it All
No task too big, no job too small.
Dane stood a little straighter, allowing pride in what he’d accomplished to draw him to his full six feet two inches. Not I. We, he reminded himself. He took a rag out of his back pocket and swiped at a smudge of dust. Father, thank you for blessing me. He continued to the back of the van, opened the large double doors, and pulled out supplies.
Dane had a knack for this kind of thing. He knew it, and the admission wasn’t pride, just an acknowledgement of the gift God gave him. Dane knew a little bit about a whole lot of things. He set gallons of prepared water on a cart.
Good thing, because working in a structured environment would have killed him as surely as poison. Dane was Garfield’s go-to guy, and as his motto proclaimed, there was no task too big, no job too small. He fixed leaks and wiring and made small auto repairs. In the summer, he mowed and landscaped yards. Need your living room painted? I’m your guy. Need your attic cleaned out, your Christmas lights hung, your garden weeded, or your dog walked, just call. And a lot of people had. I made five figures last year, praise Jesus! Not too shabby for a reformed wild child with nothing but a high school diploma, a restless spirit, and a good God.
He studied his supplies. As with any new gig, he’d done his research on saltwater aquariums. Algae scrapers, gravel cleaners, test kits, a pump, and seventeen gallons of salt water—seemed like a lot of trouble for a tank full of fish when the lake held them with zero effort on anybody’s part, but the two-hour job would add a hundred dollars a week to his income. He knew a lot of college grads who didn’t make fifty dollars an hour.
Dane guided his cart to the handicapped ramp cut into the curb and backed through the door of the spa. A chime sounded from somewhere in the room. He ignored it and focused on the huge tank. His first reaction was a long, low, appreciative whistle.
“Would you look at that?”
“More than you can handle, Mr. Cooper?”
He spun around. The woman standing behind him wore a loose T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Her face was unadorned except for the freckles scattered across her nose. Her pecan-colored hair was board straight and pulled into a tail high on the back of her head. If he had to guess, he figured it would hang below her shoulders once she let it loose.
The casual, baggy clothes and the absence of makeup should have made an unremarkable package. Should have. Instead, his eyes lingered on her face, tracing the delicate planes of her cheeks and the way her nose tipped up, just a bit, at the end. The loose clothes did no more to hide the curves that lay beneath than her bare face could take away from a natural beauty most women only dream about. And that hair? His fingers itched to touch it just to see if it felt as soft as it looked.
“Mr. Cooper.”
The woman had her hand out, and her blue eyes studied him from beneath arched eyebrows. How long had he been staring like a loon? Dane took her hand in his.
“Ms. Soeurs.”
She squeezed his hand briefly before releasing it. “Call me Mac, everyone does. Welcome to Sisters.”
Dane smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “That’s it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Soeurs…sisters. I flunked out of high school French, and I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember what the word meant. Thanks for clearing that up. Now I won’t have to look like an idiot in front of my baby sister.”
Mac’s lips twitched up. “My pleasure.” She motioned to the tank. “What do you think?”
Dane took a few seconds to study the massive aquarium. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “I’ve never been allowed to have a hobby before, and I’m very fond of this one, Mr. Cooper. These are my babies. Very expensive babies. Their environment is very precisely balanced.”
Dane matched her pose. It wasn’t hard to meet her eyes. Besides being a looker, she stood every bit of five foot nine. “Mac is it?”
“Mackenzie, Mac to my friends.”
“Then call me Dane.” He indicated the water on the cart as he lowered his arms. “I did my homework, Mac. The water in those jugs is mixed to a salinity of thirty-five, precisely.” He lifted a refractometer from the cart. “I’ll keep a close eye on the percentage as the process moves forward. You can trust your babies with me.”
She lifted her chin and studied him over her perky nose. Dane could see that she wasn’t fully convinced. He was relieved when her chin came down a notch. “Fine, then. I’m happy you were able to fit me into your Monday morning schedule. I never dreamed Sisters would get so busy so fast. As much as I enjoy the aquarium, not having to carve two or three hours out of my Monday every week will certainly be a boon.”
“Your being blessed makes me blessed in return. Isn’t that the way God works?”
The warmth in Mac’s eyes went cold. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry, did I—?”
The chime over the door tinkled. The door opened to a gaggle of giggling women. Dane was surprised to see his baby sister, Jessica, and her three best friends filing through the door. Mac stepped away to greet them before he had a chance to figure out what had put the strange look on her face.
“Hey, Dane,” Jessica said, crossing to give him a hug. “Are you working out with us?”
He stepped out of the hug and motioned to the cart and equipment. “Working, but not with you. What are you four up to this early in the morning?”
Jessica lifted a gym bag. “We’re about to get physical with our new personal trainer. We signed up for her first exercise class.”
Dane crossed his arms and gave his sibling his best are-you-kidding-me look. “It’s not eight a.m. yet, and you’re going to exercise? That’s rich. Mac will be picking you up off the floor and starting coffee IVs before the first five minutes are up.” He dodged the bag she swung at him.
Mac looked from Dane to her class. “You know each other?”
“Let me introduce you,” Dane said. “The sassy one in the glasses is my little sister, Jessica. The redhead is Miranda. The blonde…that’s Charlene. You want to watch out for her—she’s a cop. The one that looks like a pixie without her wings is Alexandra.” He dropped an arm around Jessica’s shoulder. “I call them Jesse, Alex, Charley, and Randy. Left over from when I coached the church volleyball team a few years ago. They were playing like girls, so I gave them male nicknames to toughen them up.” He angled a bit closer to Mac and lowered his voice to not quite a whisper. “Didn’t really work. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Mac smiled at her class. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m Mackenzie, but most everyone calls me Mac.” She motioned to the stairs. “Workout room is on the second floor. Head on up, and I’ll be right behind you.”
The women trooped up the stairs, gym bags in hand.
Dane got to work and tried to ignore the pretty owner. Not possible.
Mac took a couple of minutes to lay a stack of clean towels next to each pedicure chair. She rearranged bottles of polish on a shelf and straightened magazines in the waiting area, all the while watching Dane from under her lashes. He caught the looks. It was obvious she was stalling. He focused on what he’d been hired to do, using actions instead of words to convince her that her babies were in good hands. Babies. Right. Fish weren’t babies, they were a food group.
She finally stopped at the corner of the tank. “It looks like you have it under control. I’ll leave you to it. Give a yell if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Dane watched her go, mulling the questions she left behind. What had she meant about being allowed to have a hobby? More than that, what put that sour look on her face at the mention of God?

Order Now!

<< Go Back