THURSDAY
9:14 A.M. — CROFT ESTATE
ALLISON'S POV
At 9:14 on Thursday morning, Allison Croft decided four women who had spent far too much time dealing with dangerous men, complicated men, overprotective men, recovering men, federal investigators, corporate disasters and one particularly exhausting extended family deserved to do something radical.
Absolutely nothing useful.
No evidence.
No lawyers.
No financial records.
No security meetings.
No conversations beginning with we need to tell you something.
For one entire day, nobody was allowed to uncover a conspiracy, solve a corporate problem, revisit an old file or make a life-changing discovery.
Allison wanted a massage.
Preferably one strong enough to remove the last six months from her shoulders.
She picked up her phone.
ALLISON: Emergency.
Simone answered immediately.
SIMONE: Who died?
Allison stared at the screen.
That, right there, proved her point.
ALLISON: Nobody. That's why we're going to a spa.
