Free The House on Black Lake by Anastasia Blackwell, Maggie Deslaurier, Adam Marsh, David Wilson Page A

with a full service salon.”
    The car speakers reverberate with the vibrations of a sultry baritone: “ Un, enlève vos vêtements, deux, venez à mon lit, trois, posez votre corps, quatre, faites-moi l’amour...”
    “We are only a few blocks from our destination, Mademoiselle. You may call me at any time you need a ride. He turns to hand me a card, while bestowing his beautiful smile, and I place it next to the one for Le Beau Monde.
    “Careful as your disembark, the cobblestones are slippery.” Daniel helps me out onto the cobbled driveway. “Do you need help to the door?”
    “I’m fine, just not used to the heels.” I take his arm to steady myself and release another involuntary laugh.
    “Whew, it’s warm outside,” I say and remove my jacket.
    “Are you certain?”
    “Have a lovely day, Daniel.”
    I focus my attention on navigating a straight line to the entrance of the inn, where I open the front door and slip into a room with brick and mortar walls, low beamed ceilings and a glazed oak floor covered with a worn Persian carpet. The focal point of the room is an impressionistic painting of a woman in the throes of passion. Naked from the waist up, she tosses back a mane of golden hair and her skin emanates a brilliant light reflected off the wall behind her.
    A man with ebony skin, a shaved head, and wire-rimmed glasses sits at an ornate writing desk at the back of the room. He looks up as I enter the salon.
    “Bonjour, I have an appointment with—”
    “Welcome, darling. You are even more beautiful than Ruth described. I am Oscar, the proprietor, along with my partner, Robert. We operate a full service salon and spa in the back of the inn.” He stands as I approach and offers his hand. Oscar speaks with the accent of an English gentleman, and there is a special kindness, something unique in his eyes.
    “Ruth has engaged me to give you a complete makeover. Let’s get you started right away.” He leads me through a door at the back of the lobby and down a hallway lined with dressing rooms with bells tied to yellow ribbons hanging from brass handles. “You will find a dressing gown inside. When you are finished changing, follow the sign into the salon, where I will be waiting.”
    I change into a long cotton robe and walk down a hallway, with an entire wall stenciled with flowers and vines intermingled with the words: Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty, that is all ye know on Earth, and all ye need to know.
    “Those are the squires of the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal, Oscar tells me.”
    Through the floor-to-ceiling windows I see an enormous cathedral with twin towers looming above the buildings of the old town.
    “Beautiful view.”
    We pass stations with hairdressers in uniforms curling, cutting, teasing, blow drying hair, and tending to the feet and nails of an assortment of clients, male and female.
    “You have lovely hair, but it is too straight and drags on your face. We will do some layering around the front, clean up the line, and add a few warm highlights.” He leads me to a shampoo station and adjusts a lever beneath the seat.
    “We have a two hour deadline. Ruth advised me you have an appointment for a psychic consultation with Kevin. He is magnificent! He channeled the spirit of my deceased grandmother. Kevin told me to go to the St. Lawrence Bridge, at Rue de la Pere, on New Year’s Eve, where I would meet my soul mate. It was there I met my partner, Robert. We have been together nearly four years,” he says with a delighted lilt, while shampooing my hair with magic fingers.
    “What a romantic story. I hope I have the same luck.”
    “Ruth is resting in the back room. She was utterly exhausted after Robert finished with her massage. I heard you girls were up quite late last night and had a little too much wine.” He finishes rinsing my hair and wraps a towel around my head.
    “Come, dear, follow me to the treatment room.”
    Oscar guides me through the salon to a room