Excerpt: Last Resort

The physical pain was bad enough, but it was the abject humiliation that would probably kill her.
“What a way to start a vacation,” Claire Kennedy said, sitting in the dirt and hugging her knees to her chest. “I think I broke my kneecap.”
“You didn’t break your kneecap,” said her best friend Susan, a touch of exasperation mixed with good humor in her voice.
“Well, then, I shattered my grace.”
“You never had any.”
“Shut up.” Claire looked around at all the faces looking expectantly down at her, faces of people who hadn’t given her a second glance—or even a first glance—until she stumbled down the steps of the shuttle bus from the airport and landed hard on her bare knees at the gravel entrance of the Nevada spa resort where she would be spending the next two relaxing, fun-filled weeks. Two expensively dressed, expertly fake-tanned, excessively plastic-surgeried women about her age who already had Claire feeling like a fat bag lady in her denim shorts and pony tail were giggling and unobtrusively pointing. A gaggle of sweet old ladies were oh dearing and oh my goodnessing over her. The blond-haired slightly chubby husband half of a newlywed couple had gallantly rushed to her side to help her up, while the mousy bride other half gave them both the evil eye. And running toward her from across the parking lot was an older woman in khaki shorts and a white camp shirt with rolled sleeves, flowing gray hair, and a walkie-talkie that she was speaking into.
“Oh dear, miss, I’m so sorry, are you alright?” the woman asked her when she joined the group.
“I think I broke my kneecap,” Claire said.
“I think she broke her pride,” Susan said.
“That, too,” Claire responded.
The woman leaned down, her silver hair sliding over her shoulder and sweeping Clarie’s knee as she inspected the injury, which now had blood slowly oozing around the gravel imbedded in her skin. “It looks rather nasty, doesn’t it? Well, I’ve already called my medical staff. He should be here shortly.”
“You have a medical staff reporting to you?” One of the grandmothers said. “You’re a doctor?”
“Heavens no, I’m the resort owner. I’m sorry, allow me to officially welcome you to the Great Desert Spa and Resort. I’d had other plans to do so, involving music and food, but it seems I’ve been showed up.” Her smile at Claire was friendly, and Claire knew she was being teased, not admonished. “I’m Louellen Barnes, but you all can call me Aunt Lou.”
Claire leaned on the young man who was still attending to her despite his wife’s silent protestations, and tried to stand. “Well, Ms. Barnes, thanks for your assistance, but I really don’t need to see a doctor.”
“It’s Aunt Lou, remember? And don’t worry, he’s not a doctor. But he’s on his way, and I insist he look you over.”
“No, really, I’m sure I’m fine. I just needed to complain about it for a while. I just needed to get that out of my system, and now I’ll be fine. This sort of thing happens all the time.”
“She’s right,” Susan chimed in helpfully. ”She’s a total klutz.”
“Right, see? So you can call off the doctor.” She smiled at Aunt Lou, then glared at Susan, who said, “What?”
One of the overly dressed, overly makeduped, overly accessorised women spoke up. “She's calling the doctor so you can’t sue her. Do we all have to be here for this?”
Claire took an instant dislike to Rich Bitch and would have commented on her lack of compassion to the less fortunate, but for the moment, Aunt Lou’s reaction was more interesting. The woman blushed and stood abruptly, tugging at the collar of her shirt.
“Why would I sue her?” Claire asked in true disbelief. “I’m the klutz.”
Rich Bitch smiled, all teeth, looking predatory. “You can make a lot of money being a klutz.”
Claire narrowed her eyes, taking in the other woman’s apparel, variously emblazoned with the names of famous and expensive designer houses. “Is that how you did it?”
Rich Bitch’s mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes round and sparking with pure hatred. The other walking billboard also gasped, but laid a hand on her friend’s arm and gently drew her away.
Claire turned back to the resort owner. “Ignore her. I have no intention of suing anybody.” The woman’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled.
A low rumbling and crunching of gravel announced the appearance of the doctor. A rusty, rickety Land Rover pulled up along side the bus, and out climbed a tall, lanky man in chinos and black-rimmed glasses and carrying a tackle box. “Putting me to work already, Aunt Lou? I just got here and haven’t even had time to unpack and change yet.” He gave her an expectant smile that was friendly and inviting, and seemed directed all at Aunt Lou.
“You’ve got to earn your keep somehow,” Aunt Lou said, giving him a gentle pat on the arm that seemed intimate. If he had just got here, clearly these two had met before. “Unfortunately, it seems we’ve had a slight accident and need your expertise in first aid.”
Nodding, the man knelt before Claire and opened the lid of the bright orange, multi-compartmented box.
“Nice box. No need to bait me, I’m already dead in the water. So, what kind of bait are you carrying?” Claire said, trying to make light of her embarrassing situation. “Are you putting leaches on my wound or something?”
“This thing?” The man asked, his voice deep and soothing. “I just carry it for allure.”
Claire snorted back a laugh at his pun, and he smiled. Previously his smile has been all for Aunt Lou, but now its full power was directed all at her, the intensity of it making her somehow nervous.
“I’m such a klutz,” she said. “I can’t even do something simple like walk down steps and carry luggage at the same time. You should see me when I’m also chewing gum. Total disaster. My name is Claire, and rather ironically, my middle name is Grace. I’ve never lived up to it.” She realized she was breathlessly babbling, but couldn’t stop herself – until he framed her knee with his large, capable hands and the warmth and strength she felt there surprised her.