“Kathy
said she’d made the correct reservations, and everyone believes
her, but I know she hates me. I just don’t understand why,” she
admitted softly.
“What hotel was this?”
“ The Crowne,” she sniffled.
“I tried to get a room, but they’re full. Reed Wallace is on the
island. He’s holding a work retreat so all of his employees have a
reservation.” A fresh round of tears began to leak, and I felt her
miserable jealousy. “I bet they’ll even meet Reed, and I won’t!”
she wailed.
“ How do you know about
Reed?” Up until a few days ago I’d never heard of him, and even
then I hadn’t taken him for a big celebrity.
“He’s been on the cover of Corporate World,
you know, the magazine.” She didn’t look for a reaction, just kept
talking. “He’s just so, so...”
“Charming,” I supplied dryly.
“ Yes, charming, and such a
handsome man. I’d really like to meet him, but I’ll be busy with
the ladies, no time for chasing men. Red hatters are a busy bunch
you know,” she said with pride. Her emotions were evening out, her
demeanor turning mild.
“ Well,” I said awkwardly,
“um, things can only get better... probably. I mean, that harpy,
Kathy, she’ll most likely get receding gum lines, or have an
extreme case of early pattern hair loss. Karma always has the last
laugh.”
She began to gather her
bags. “Well, I try not to be too negative. Maybe we’ll work out our
differences.”
“Yeah, or that,” I agreed.
* * *
A few hours later Stephen
returned carrying a couple of phonebooks. “These are the leftovers.
I did every room but twelve. It was occupied before I got a
chance.”
“ Are you going
home?”
“ I think I’ll stay and
watch TV for a while.”
“ Be home by seven. I don’t
want your mom to call looking for you.”
“ Okay,” he said, turning to
go. Halfway to the door he bent down. “What’s this?” I looked to
find him picking up a red and white scarf with tiny chirping birds
speckled all over.
“Appalling, it could only belong to...” I
glanced at the signature scrawled across the receipt. “...Pattie
Hankey, equally appalling.” I held out my hand.
Passing it over, Stephen
lectured, “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“ She’s not a book. Now go
away.”
After Stephen left I
quickly became bored. I played MASH a few times, discovering that I
was either going to marry Leonardo DiCaprio or Steve Buscemi,
depending on which game you counted. I wondered if MASH was a gift,
and if someone was out there legitimately predicting futures with
it.
The boredom persisted, so I
pretended to be blind, closing my eyes to try and learn the room
like they did in the movies. I counted steps, substituting a
flyswatter for a cane. It didn’t really work. I know because I
slammed my thigh into the sideboard.
In an act of desperation I
collected Pattie’s scarf and a phonebook for her room, so bored I
was willing to deliver both items. I left the office, checking the
lot to make sure there were no customers—I’m sorry, guests—coming.
I wanted to stretch out the task, so I walked slowly.
Ahead was the small
breezeway that separated the two units. Stephen used it daily, a
shortcut to the cleaning cart which we kept in a storage shack out
back. Nearing it I noticed a mist floating in from behind the
building, filling the walkway floor.
I stopped abruptly,
becoming nervous because I’d seen this before. The mist moved
lazily, swirling slowly, but rising higher.
I cursed and stumbled back,
wondering how I could be seeing a ghost without the ring. And then
I felt it, the thin wire band wrapped snug against my finger. I had
no recollection of putting it on, and yet there I was wearing
it.
The night was deceptively
peaceful. The cicadas sang and the trees swayed, their leaves lit
silver by the half moon. But I hardly noticed because I was too
busy staring at the rising mist, unable to move away. It began to
form a coiling
said she’d made the correct reservations, and everyone believes
her, but I know she hates me. I just don’t understand why,” she
admitted softly.
“What hotel was this?”
“ The Crowne,” she sniffled.
“I tried to get a room, but they’re full. Reed Wallace is on the
island. He’s holding a work retreat so all of his employees have a
reservation.” A fresh round of tears began to leak, and I felt her
miserable jealousy. “I bet they’ll even meet Reed, and I won’t!”
she wailed.
“ How do you know about
Reed?” Up until a few days ago I’d never heard of him, and even
then I hadn’t taken him for a big celebrity.
“He’s been on the cover of Corporate World,
you know, the magazine.” She didn’t look for a reaction, just kept
talking. “He’s just so, so...”
“Charming,” I supplied dryly.
“ Yes, charming, and such a
handsome man. I’d really like to meet him, but I’ll be busy with
the ladies, no time for chasing men. Red hatters are a busy bunch
you know,” she said with pride. Her emotions were evening out, her
demeanor turning mild.
“ Well,” I said awkwardly,
“um, things can only get better... probably. I mean, that harpy,
Kathy, she’ll most likely get receding gum lines, or have an
extreme case of early pattern hair loss. Karma always has the last
laugh.”
She began to gather her
bags. “Well, I try not to be too negative. Maybe we’ll work out our
differences.”
“Yeah, or that,” I agreed.
* * *
A few hours later Stephen
returned carrying a couple of phonebooks. “These are the leftovers.
I did every room but twelve. It was occupied before I got a
chance.”
“ Are you going
home?”
“ I think I’ll stay and
watch TV for a while.”
“ Be home by seven. I don’t
want your mom to call looking for you.”
“ Okay,” he said, turning to
go. Halfway to the door he bent down. “What’s this?” I looked to
find him picking up a red and white scarf with tiny chirping birds
speckled all over.
“Appalling, it could only belong to...” I
glanced at the signature scrawled across the receipt. “...Pattie
Hankey, equally appalling.” I held out my hand.
Passing it over, Stephen
lectured, “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“ She’s not a book. Now go
away.”
After Stephen left I
quickly became bored. I played MASH a few times, discovering that I
was either going to marry Leonardo DiCaprio or Steve Buscemi,
depending on which game you counted. I wondered if MASH was a gift,
and if someone was out there legitimately predicting futures with
it.
The boredom persisted, so I
pretended to be blind, closing my eyes to try and learn the room
like they did in the movies. I counted steps, substituting a
flyswatter for a cane. It didn’t really work. I know because I
slammed my thigh into the sideboard.
In an act of desperation I
collected Pattie’s scarf and a phonebook for her room, so bored I
was willing to deliver both items. I left the office, checking the
lot to make sure there were no customers—I’m sorry, guests—coming.
I wanted to stretch out the task, so I walked slowly.
Ahead was the small
breezeway that separated the two units. Stephen used it daily, a
shortcut to the cleaning cart which we kept in a storage shack out
back. Nearing it I noticed a mist floating in from behind the
building, filling the walkway floor.
I stopped abruptly,
becoming nervous because I’d seen this before. The mist moved
lazily, swirling slowly, but rising higher.
I cursed and stumbled back,
wondering how I could be seeing a ghost without the ring. And then
I felt it, the thin wire band wrapped snug against my finger. I had
no recollection of putting it on, and yet there I was wearing
it.
The night was deceptively
peaceful. The cicadas sang and the trees swayed, their leaves lit
silver by the half moon. But I hardly noticed because I was too
busy staring at the rising mist, unable to move away. It began to
form a coiling
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