Rose’s eyes bugged out. “Ruben. Go sit down. Weren’t you going to check out the place?”

“I was waiting for you, dear. Look, they have appetizers set out already. This is wonderful. I tell you, when Alan Sansi puts something together, it’s always first class.”

Nikki cringed. Alan Sansi had not put a damn thing together. She still had yet to meet the wonderful guru.

Ruben walked over to the console where the appetizers were. Alyssa, who worked at Malveaux, walked in on cue with a tray of champagne flutes and handed one to Mr. Pearlman.

He took a second one and came over to Mrs. Pearlman. “Drink this and don’t be such a pain. Can’t you see that these people are doing all they can to make this a nice stay? Jeesh, we are here for further enlightenment.”

“I don’t need any more enlightenment other than a good glass of plum wine, some pickled herring, and All My Children. Did you know they don’t have TVs in the rooms? I’m going to miss my shows. And please, Rube, you know that I don’t drink champagne.” She shoved it back into his hand.

Yep, that green puke was right at the bottom of Nikki’s esophagus, just like in The Exorcist. Nikki could feel her neck beginning to turn and her head pound. Not good. “Well, Mrs. Pearlman, we don’t have any plum wine, but I can have someone bring you a very nice glass of Chardonnay.” Get the lady tanked. Maybe she’d pass out. Nikki needed to get someone to redo her room. How to have sheets and towels laundered in rosewater and the room made up in, what, ten minutes?

“No plum wine? That’s what I like. What kind of winery is this?”

Derek placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She flinched and looked up at him as if this was the first time she actually saw him. Nikki could see the woman’s features soften. Yeah, sister. I know the feeling.

“Ms. Sands is right, we do a wonderful Chardonnay here and it’ll be on the house. Why don’t you give it a try, and if you don’t like it, we’ll find something else that will suit you.”

“Fine. I suppose that’ll have to do if that’s all you have. Chardonnay!” She threw her hands up in the air.

“You two must be hungry. I know that you flew in all the way from New York. My guess is that the food on your flight left something to be desired,” Nikki said.

“You’re not kidding,” Mr. Pearlman replied.

“Why don’t you head on through those arches to our outdoor café and I’ll have lunch sent over on the house. Our chef is preparing some excellent specials for today. My personal favorite is the sautéed chicken breasts in a walnut cilantro cream sauce. It’s excellent with a bottle of our best Chardonnay.” Nikki glanced at Derek, who gave her a slight nod of approval.

Mrs. Pearlman wrinkled up her nose. “I’d really like to get settled into our room first.” She twirled her tennis bracelet around her wrist.

“We’ll take care of your bags and have you squared away in no time. In fact, since you’re the first guests to arrive, you’re receiving a complimentary couple’s massage treatment,” Derek jumped in.

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Mr. Pearlman smiled. “Come on, Rose, live a little. Let’s check out the eats, and the wine, and then a massage. I love this place already.”

His wife sighed and stared at him for a few seconds before agreeing. “Fine. I suppose I could eat. And I could use a massage.”

Mr. Pearlman looked back at Nikki and winked. His wife walked on ahead. “Food will get her every time,” he said in a near whisper.

“Ruben!”

“Coming, dear.”

Nikki and Derek looked at each other. “Wow!” they said in unison and started laughing. “I hope she doesn’t tell the boss about us,” Nikki said.

Derek pulled her to him again. “Let her. I hope the guy fires me.”

“I better get cracking. She wants the linens washed in rosewater.”

“Of course she does.” Derek glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave, but I need to head back over to my office. I expect Alan Sansi to arrive shortly. We have a meeting set up in an hour.”

“You want me to bring him over to you?”

“That’s okay. Simon and Marco have eagerly volunteered.”

“Of course. They must be primping. I haven’t seen either of them in a while.”

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon.” He kissed her cheek. “Better take care of queenie.”

She watched him walk out of the lobby and sighed. Life was pretty good. Then she glanced down at her notes, full of unfinished business for the day. She picked up the phone and called Housekeeping, asking them to redo sheets and towels in room twenty-two. Marie from Housekeeping complained that the room was finished and ready for the new guests. “Just do it!” Nikki hated being demanding, but she had no time to explain. She slammed the phone down and started reading off her notes.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Nikki looked up from her papers to see a balding gentleman standing opposite her. A pleasant smile (that struck Nikki as a permanent feature of his face) and the kindest-looking, almost turquoise-colored eyes reminded Nikki of what Santa Claus might look like sans the hair and beard, and with fewer pounds. She blinked several times. The smile was still there. Was there a glow around this guy? Behind him stood an entourage of people, but she couldn’t take her focus off him. “Excuse me?” she finally mustered.

He reached out a hand. “Alan Sansi, and you are Ms. Sands. Simon and Marco have told me wonderful things about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you. But you really must take some time to breathe.” He elongated the word, and then took a deep breath in himself for several beats and let it out. “Try it with me. No one or nothing is worth being stressed over. Life happens as it should. But you have to keep breathing for it to happen, and if you allow the stress to get to you-which is all a façade anyway, because there really is no stress-you will die. That is a fact. It is all in your hands and it is all your own creation.” He took another long breath. “See, four beats in, four held, and four on the exhale.”

The luster wore off as Nikki realized she was in the presence of Mr. New Age shyster himself. “Mr. Sansi. Nice to meet you, too.”

“Sansibaba.” Simon and Marco appeared from off the outside patio. Simon’s arms spread wide as if he were ready to take a curtain bow. He wore one of his designer T-shirts in his favorite color of lavender and a pair of yoga pants. Marco followed behind, always willing to let Simon be the center of attention. Marco was the opposite of Simon’s golden boy, blond image. He was dark, Italian, and the kind of man who was simply so gorgeous that it really should have been a crime. He also had more fashion sense than the yogin next to him, dressed tastefully in a pair of black jeans and white button-down. Nikki had coined them “the boys of summer” one summer a couple years ago and that was now the only way she could think of them-two boys, having way too much fun for their own good. This Alan Sansi character was another one of their indulgences, as far as she was concerned.

“Hello, Simon and Marco. You can call me Alan, remember?”

Was Simon blushing? “You two have perfect timing,” Nikki said, wondering if the boys hadn’t been lurking around the corner.

“Everything is already in perfect alignment. There is nothing out of balance,” Alan commented, folding his arms across his chest.

Oh boy.

“Of course you’re right.” Simon clapped his hands.

“We’re all right. All right?”

The group behind Alan Sansi started laughing almost on cue when he laughed.

Was this a sitcom Nikki was watching? She cleared her throat. “I have everyone’s rooms set. If you would step forward or have a representative of the group give me the names, I can direct you to your rooms. I have an itinerary that I worked on with Hayden.”

“Of course, I couldn’t do anything that I do without my Hayden.” He turned and motioned for a young woman in a light pink knit suit-very Chanel, very springy. Nikki wanted it. She was surprised at the woman’s appearance. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but Hayden Sansi was Alan’s daughter. Again, the family appearance didn’t fit the original image she’d had in her mind. What had she expected? A group in Birkenstocks and white robes, maybe some dreadlocks? A little Bob Marley playing in the background? Patchouli flowing through their auras or chakras, or whatever they were called? Not this, though. This was a total surprise. Here was Alan Sansi, polo shirted out, and his daughter, looking as if she’d just walked out of a store on Rodeo Drive with her light brown hair stylishly cut into a layered bob, and her makeup looking as if it had been applied by a professional.