Free Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty Page A

the stairs. “Us too! These are my beautiful girls, my wife, Heather, and daughter, Zoe.”
    The two women were also notably tall. They were a basketball team.They gave her the restrained, polite smiles of a celebrity’s family members who are used to having to wait while he is accosted by fans, except that in this case it was Napoleon doing the accosting. The wife, Heather , bounced on the balls of her feet. She was wiry, with extremely wrinkled, tanned skin, as if she’d been scrunched up and then spread smooth. Heather skin like leather , thought Frances. That was a really mean mnemonic but Heather would never know. Heather had gray hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and bloodshot eyes. She seemed very intense, which was fine. Frances had some intense friends; she knew how to cope with intensity. (Never try to match it.)
    The daughter, Zoe , had her dad’s height and the casual grace of an athletic, outdoorsy girl. Showy Zoe? But she wasn’t showy at all. Not-showy Zoe . Zoe certainly didn’t look like she was in need of a health resort. How much more rejuvenated could you get?
    Frances thought about the young couple, Ben and Jessica, who also seemed in sparkling good health. Were health resorts only attended by the already healthy? Was she going to be the least healthy-looking person here? She’d never been bottom of the class, except for that one time in Transcendental Meditation for Beginners.
    â€œWe thought we’d explore the hot springs, maybe have a quick soak,” said Napoleon to Yao and Frances, as if they’d asked. “Then we’ll do a few laps of the pool.”
    Clearly, they were one of those active families who threw their bags down on the floor and left their hotel room the moment they checked in.
    â€œI’m planning a quick nap before an urgent massage,” said Frances.
    â€œExcellent idea!” cried Napoleon. “A nap and a massage! Sounds perfect! Isn’t this place amazing ? And I hear the hot springs are incredible.” He was an extremely enthusiastic man.
    â€œMake sure you rehydrate after the hot springs,” Yao said to him. “There are water bottles at reception.”
    â€œWill do, Yao! And then we’ll be back in time for the noble silence!”
    â€œNoble silence?” said Frances.
    â€œIt will all become clear, Frances,” said Yao.
    â€œIt’s in your information pack, Frances!” said Napoleon. “Bit of a surprise; I wasn’t expecting the ‘silence’ aspect. I’ve heard of silent retreats, of course, but must admit they didn’t appeal—I’m a talker myself, as my girls here will tell you. But we’ll roll with the punches, go with the flow!”
    As he talked on in the comforting way of the chronically loquacious, Frances watched his wife and daughter farther down the stairs. The daughter, who wore black flip-flops, put one heel on the step above her and leaned forward as if she were discreetly stretching her hamstring. The mother watched her daughter, and Frances saw the ghost of a smile, followed almost immediately by an expression of pure despair that dragged all her features down, as if she were clawing at her cheeks. Then in the next instant it was gone and she smiled benignly up at Frances, and Frances felt as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have.
    Napoleon said, “It wasn’t you who arrived in that Lamborghini, was it, Frances? I saw it from our room. That’s one hell of a car.”
    â€œNot me—I’m the Peugeot,” said Frances.
    â€œNothing wrong with the Peugeot! Although I hear those jackals charge like wounded bulls when it comes to servicing, right?”
    He mixed his metaphors most delightfully. Frances was keen to talk more with him. He was someone who would answer any question with candor and vigor. She loved those sorts of people.
    â€œDad,” said his daughter. Not-showy Zoe. “Let the