Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition by JB Lynn Page B

roommate’s name is Gladys. I’ll let you make your own introductions. Dinner in thirty minutes.”
    “How will I find it?” I called after him as he hurried away.
    “Follow the bell.” He disappeared from sight.
    “What bell?” I asked aloud, approaching the cabin door. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for barging in on someone I’d never met before, so I knocked politely.
    The door flew open like the occupant had been standing on the other side listening to my conversation with Vanpelt.
    “Hi,” I said to the thirty-something, frizzy-haired woman who looked even more miserable than I felt. “I’m Maggie.”
    She stared at me.
    I felt my smile falter. “You must be Gladys.”
    She turned around and walked into the cabin without responding.
    I followed her inside. The accommodations were stark. Two beds. No chairs. I was relieved to spot the single bare bulb that hung from the ceiling since it meant we wouldn’t be living by candlelight. It smelled like mothballs and old wood. I was starting to think Aunt Loretta’s idea about a spa was much better than my current reality.
    Since one bed had a flowery duffle bag on it, I put my own beat-up overnight bag on the other bed and gingerly sat down, expecting a mattress spring to poke me in the butt. The mattress was lumpy, but nothing protruded.
    I looked at Gladys who’d sat on the opposite bed and was watching me.
    I contemplated her for a long moment, choosing my next words carefully. “Have you taken a vow of silence?”
    A corner of her mouth lifted and shook her head.
    “Because I didn’t know if that was a thing at these kinds of things.”
    Still nothing.
    “I’ve never done this retreat business before, so I don’t know what to expect,” I told her.  I didn’t think she was deaf, and I doubted she was mute, but for the life of me I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t talk to me.
    It was kind of creepy.
    “I was told dinner is in thirty minutes.”
    She lay down, making it clear the conversation, such as it was, was over.
    I did the same thing, knowing it was going to be a long weekend.
     

 

Chapter 17
     
    If my roommate talked too little, the women we encountered on the path to dinner talked too much.
    I was following the sound of a chiming bell, trailing behind Gladys, when I was almost mowed down by a trio who were so busy talking to each other that they didn’t notice me until one of them had stepped on the back of my sneaker.
    “Sorry!” The shoe-stepper giggled.
    Her tinkling laugh irritated me and I threw a nasty look over my shoulder.
    “I’m Millie,” she trilled. “And these are my friends Linda and Donna.”
    “Maggie,” I murmured, noticing that Gladys had increased her pace and was putting distance between herself and the chatty swarm.
    “Hi, Maggie,” the three said in unison.
    I felt like I was at one of Aunt Leslie’s “Anonymous” meetings.
    “Is this your first time?” Millie asked, obviously the leader of her talkative group.
    “Yes,” I admitted as she linked her arm through mine as though we were fast friends about to skip through a field filled with cartoon butterflies and singing flowers.
    “Ours too.”
    It took every ounce of my self-control to not swat Millie away like an annoying insect.
    “Our husbands thought it would be a good idea,” Millie explained. “And who’s going to pass up a weekend away, right?”
    When I didn’t immediately agree with her, she jammed a pointy elbow into my ribs. “Am I right?”
    “Uh-huh,” I grunted, busy imagining how satisfying it would be to deliver a karate chop to her throat. I understood why her husband was eager to get rid of her.
    “We thought it was going to be a spa experience,” Donna griped. “Massages, facials, pedicures.”
    “But we’ve decided to make the best of it,” Linda interjected with enough sweet cheer to make my teeth ache. I locked my jaw closed against the sensation.
    “How about you?” Linda asked. “Why are you