Jack spoke up. “I’ll look in every room, question everyone until I find her. Wait here.”
Sara clamped down on his arm.
“Buzzkiller,” he murmured.
One of the young women came toward them. “You must be Sara Medlar.” She offered her hand to shake. “Come with me and I’ll take you to Meena.”
Kate turned to Jack to mouth, “Meena?” but he was smiling at the women they passed—who were all smiling back at him.
They were led into what was probably the main bedroom of the inn. It was a large room with a bed at one end, sitting area at the other. The bed was heavy, dark wood and carved extensively. On the floor between the two areas was a woman on a yoga mat, her face turned away from them. She was twisted into an impossible posture.
The woman who’d escorted them in left, closing the door behind her.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” the woman on the mat said.
The three backed up until they were sitting on a large chest at the foot of the bed. They couldn’t take their eyes off the woman in front of them, who was twisting and turning into yoga positions.
“Jacobean,” Sara said softly.
“What?” Kate whispered.
“The chest we’re sitting on is Jacobean. Bed is Elizabethan.”
“That was my number one question,” Kate said.
Jack was watching the woman and said nothing.
She brought her body back to what a person would consider normal. Her back was to them as she sat cross-legged, hands behind her, clasped in reverse prayer mode.
Finally, she turned to face them. She was older, true, but her skin was flawless, her brows perfect, her lashes sooty black and thick. Combined with her body, she was an extremely attractive woman.
They stared at her in wonder. This couldn’t be Poorwilla. Could it?
“I see that you’ve been told about me.”
“You are Willa?” Kate asked.
“I was.” She picked up a blue silk robe off the back of the couch and put it on. “Shall we sit and talk?”
They took their seats. “You used to be Willa?” Sara asked. “But now you’re called Meena? Maybe as part of Wilhelmina?”
“Yes. Willa was too close to ‘willing’ whereas Meena is more ‘I mean what I say.’”
“I’m intrigued,” Sara said.
Kate leaned forward. “We want to know about your time with the Pack. Oh, sorry. I meant the—”
Meena smiled. “That’s what we were called. It’s an accurate label. And just like in a real pack, as long as we each did exactly what was expected of us, it was good.”
“Clive was part of that?” Sara asked.
“Oh yes. The others needed both of us. For all that they sneered at him, he took care of them. But then, he was as afraid of being tossed out as I was. But I do think I was more desperate than he was.”
“What happened if you didn’t do what they wanted?” Jack asked.
There was a quick knock on the door and one of the pretty young women came in and handed Meena a clipboard full of papers. In large letters across the top was the name Renewal. She glanced at the papers, signed, then the woman left the room.
“Where was I? Oh yes. When I didn’t conform to their plan, they let me know of their displeasure. I found that out when I was attracted to a young lawyer here in the village. I saw him yesterday.”
Sara’s upper lip curled. “If you married outside the group, they’d lose their open bank account.”
“And lose their talentless, adoring audience,” Meena said. It was the first time there was a hint of anger in her voice. “They told me I was worth much more than a village lawyer.”
“Elevating you and tearing you down at the same time,” Sara said.
Kate spoke up. “Byon said you were devastated by Clive breaking up with you. He said you probably cried for years.”
Again there was a knock on the door. Two women came in bearing trays loaded with tea, little sandwiches, scones and clotted cream. They set them down, then left.
The women only had tea, but Jack dug into the food.
“They all work for you?” Sara asked.
“Yes.” Meena didn’t elaborate. “Byon. How is he?”
“He’s in love with Jack,” Kate said. “He plays piano and Jack sings.”
Meena looked at him. “I can see that. You’re just his type. Do you know you look like—?”
“Yes,” Jack said quickly. “Everyone has told me.” He was on his fourth sandwich.
Meena took a breath. “It was over twenty years ago, but it’s still hard to speak of. I know everyone thinks I left because Clive broke up with me, but that’s not true. I think I wanted him to dump me. That way I’d be the innocent one.”
Sara smiled. “You pursued him until he got rid of you.”
“I think so,” Meena said. “At the time, I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing, but I wasn’t destroyed when the bastard so coldly told me to get out of his life. I think I figured that what would happen is that we’d end our engagement, I’d cry awhile, then we’d all go back to being our little family.”
“And no one would ever again nag you to marry bad-tempered, unhappy Clive,” Kate said.
“Exactly,” Meena said. “They really are a very talented group of people. Has Byon put on a play for you? No? He will.” She looked at Jack. “He’ll write one just for you. With original songs.”
Jack’s face so drained of color that he looked like he might pass out.
Meena laughed in delight. “He will definitely write for you.”
“If it wasn’t Clive, then what did cause you to leave?” Sara asked.
Meena’s voice got lower. “It was Nicky.” She paused to breathe deeply, as though to give herself strength. “After Sean and Diana disappeared, I went to him in private. I knew he liked both of them more than he let on. Nicky liked to be thought of as an Oscar Wilde clone, that he was above such petty emotions as a need for love.”
“Or approval from his father,” Sara said.
Meena shook her head. “How they despised each other!”
“What did Nicky say when you went to him?” Kate asked.
“He...” Meena took a moment to calm herself. “His words are emblazoned on my brain. I still remember them verbatim. Nicky said, ‘We’re all tired of feeling sorry for you. And right now we don’t have time to give you sympathy, no matter how much you pay us to do so.’ Then he slammed the door in my face.”