3 - Come see the place

William Eckart III

June 3, 2000

How grossly unacquainted is our proprietor with the hotel. Honestly, in the one day (and 17 hours, to be exact) he had been here, Mr. Jay has sat in his room all day, painting, or chatting to the scullery maid through the door, according to her account. Bright and early the next morn, I stood by Miss Hawkins at the door of our sad loafer (pardon me for the language), intending to tell him he must begin to leave bed more early. An opening was due in a week, and he had explored and acquainted himself with no inch of the place.

She knocked. We stood waiting, and the door came open a few seconds later. Mr. Jay was surprisingly well dressed for a late sleeper, appearing already to have had done the morning routine.

"Gin," Mr. Jay began, only to stop sudden as his eyes registered me.

"Casualties already?" I asked, prim and solemn as ever.

Mr. Jay breathed faster, already flustered. "Uh," he panted, unsure. "Well, she comes to my door every morning, you see..."

"This is the second," I put in, seeing him trail off as he understood, his mind coming to what I had just said, I only put a voice to it.

Mr. Jay's face was becoming a sunburnt red, "Maybe I had imagined it would be everyday. Maybe the time here felt longer than it was."

"His time keeping skills are impeccable." Miss Hawkins stepped forward and handed Mr. Jay his breakfast. "Time seems to pass differently here. He is immune, of course."

"I see," Mr. Jay began, still flustered. He suddenly went pale, staring at something behind us.

We both looked, and Miss Hawkins sighed. "Let me take care of it." I returned to face Mr. Jay, while he watched her return the pot floating lazily down the corridor, as though he beheld a ghost. He might has well have.

"Is that...normal?" he managed as she returned, trying to find his voice.

She sighed. "Yes, that happens..."

"Why?" he burst. "Why? That defies all the laws of physics. That is in no way or respect natural."

"I know," she said, somewhat nervous perhaps by the sound of it. "It happens. Not so much on the floor of the guests though."

"But still!" he insisted.

I cut in, "If it would please you, Mr. Jay, do come down to breakfast with the rest of us. Opening is in a week, and you are required to know the premises."

"How often do things float?" he insisted vehemently.

"Mostly on this floor," Miss Hawkins said, softly.

"Where the staff sleep??"

"Ahem." They both turned to look at me. "Eat swiftly, my friend. I will return to you in half an hour."

~

Exactly half an hour later, I returned for Mr. Jay, knocking on his door.

Seconds later, he emerged. "Is this place cursed?" was the first thing to come out of his mouth. "You're the butler. How long have you been here? You seem to be in charge of the others."

"Indeed," I said, already striding away. "Come, sir. You have much to see."

Five floors and many chandeliers, paintings, and staircases later, the tour was over. Mr. Jay seemed quite pleased with the place. Not a single thing defied the laws of physics. The art and beauty struck him the most.

"How old are the paintings?"

"18th century."

"How did he get them?" Mr. Jay asked in awe, closely studying one of a Madonna and little cherubs.

"They came with the hotel."

Mr. Jay straightened. "...Wait. The will said he built the place. He...he didn't lie to me, did he?"