Chapter 6

"Good morning, George."

"Good morning, Mr. Goldman."

"Are the carpet people here?"

"Yes, Sir. All morning. It's been a challenge getting the last guests out without running into vacuum hoses and extension cords on the way down, but Kristen's been keeping track of who's going where and when, and Mrs. Teague's been keeping track of Kristen so she doesn't get overwhelmed by everything."

"Her birthday's coming up, you know."

"Kristen's?"

"Mrs. Teague's. I'm thinking we'd have the bakery put a cake together, rather than sending a card around for everyone to sign again."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate a birthday cake. You know I'll be there."

"For the cake?"

"For Mrs. Teague."

"You're a good man, George."

"Likewise, Sir."

I made my way to the foyer and, as George had suggested, there were hoses and cords and people operating them all over the place. I had to watch my step the whole way, but my eyes weren't only on the floors, they kept watch for a particular guest as well, my ears keen above the whirring vacuums, listening for the dreaded yoo-hoo.

Mrs. Teague was well in control, though it appeared nothing less than controlled chaos. The foyer, the banquet hall, the mezzanines, and the front desk were all under assault from an army of shampooers, suckers, and their helpers, helping to keep the web of cords and hoses from being tied into knots. I felt a few of my own knots loosening having seen no sign of the girl whose name I still didn't know. I walked to the registration desk to make my presence known to Mrs. Teague... and to say good morning.

"Is this normal?"

"Yes, Sir. Right on schedule."

"I can see why we take it down to a skeleton crew. This is really... over the top."

"Overkill is underrated."

"My father used to say that," I smiled.

"Yes. He did at that. She's been wandering around all night."

"Who?"

She nodded her head as she cast her eyes behind me. Turning to follow her gaze, my heart skipped. I knew exactly what and who she meant, but seeing her still threw me for a loop.

She hadn't seen me. I don't know where she'd come from, but I was sure she wasn't in the foyer a minute ago, though there was enough commotion I could have easily missed her if he she had been. She was every bit as radiant as the day before, even having spent the evening "wandering around." I turned away before she caught my eye.

"Who is she, anyway?" I asked.

"Part of the reunion--here early for whatever reason."

"To stir up trouble. Has anyone ordered room service, or need towels I can deliver?"

"Everyone's checking out this morning. Nothing to do but run linens."

"I'll do it."

"You know where to find Mrs. Peach. Good luck getting back through the foyer unnoticed."

I always found it particularly annoying that Mrs. Teague always knew what was going on. Sometimes I felt like she knew what was happening before it happened.

"Is she looking this way?"

"No. Off you go."

Mrs. Peach was usually at the kiosk in Laundry taking phone calls from the check out desk and notating which rooms were ready for turn over. Housekeeping would ordinarily be a bee hive thus time of day, and with 126 rooms checking out in one morning, and a skeleton crew turning over rooms for a full house that night, Mrs. Peach was likely helping out wherever she could.

The double doors slammed open as Sonja Vera burst through pushing her laundry cart through as battering ram. She wore headphones connected by a long wire to what I assumed was a tape player in her pocket. Such items were prohibited prior to Uncle Morty's ownership. He felt morale would be improved if the ladies were able to listen to music other than the elevator music which regularly filled the halls during check-out hours--and just housekeeping and maintenance--most positions required too much communication to allow them to "tune-out" while working in teams. Mrs. Teague still doesn't think they should be allowed--the guests and other staff have trouble getting someone's attention when they're too absorbed in their music. Beyond that, people are often oblivious to what's going on around them as well. Sonja Vera was giving an excellent example that aspect as she unloaded the cart without any clue I was there.

I thought to check the clipboard hanging on the wall next to me to see which room to send her to next. When I looked over at it, my periphery revealed that I'd been oblivious to my surroundings as well. She'd been standing right behind me.

"Stephen, I've been looking for you all night. I need to explain..."

"There's nothing to explain."

"No, you don't understand..."

"I understand enough to know not to till another man's garden."

"It's not like that at... that's a funny way to put it."

"You shouldn't be in here."

"I know. I shouldn't be here at all! I'm not here because I want to be here. I have to be here."

"What do you mean, you have to be here? You know what? No. I don't want to hear it. I have work to do, and you shouldn't be in here."

I checked the clipboard and headed for the linen shelves. Grabbing fresh sheets and towels, room 413 was my destination. The Adler had been retrofitted for electric wiring and hot and cold plumbing, but an elevator hadn't been in the budget, so we still used dumbwaiters to move large or heavy bundles upstairs. My bundle was neither large nor heavy, so I proceeded up the west wing stairs.

"You can't just keep avoiding me, Stephen."

"Sure I can."

"I don't love him."

"Neither do I."

"It's an arranged marriage. I have to do it."

"I know how arranged marriages work, but there are still some things you don't have to do."

"Like what?"

"Like... like pedal boats!"

"You didn't like the pedal boats?"

"I loved the pedal boats! I'd love to go love them again! But knowing what I know now, that's really not an option, is it?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're engaged. You're practically a married woman. We just met yesterday, and besides that, I don't even know your name!"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad."

"Well, how would you say it?"

I knocked on 413 to be sure no one was in there before opening the unlocked door, the freshly cleaned carpet still wet under my feet.

"I'd say I'm about to start serving a life sentence in a marital prison and I'd like to enjoy my last few days of freedom."

"Okay, that's definitely another way to say it." I stripped the linens from the queen bed and tossed them to the door. "But you have to understand, I am the acting General Manager of this hotel. How would it look if I were having an affair with the fiancée of one of our own guests?!"

"I guess it would look something like this."

She threw herself at me, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me like she was going to prison. Being the gentleman, and respecting the sacred traditions of marriage and betrothal, I kissed her as if I'd just gotten out of prison. I fell backward onto the bare mattress, toppling her along with me. My hands went on a Lewis and Clark expedition--exploring every hill and valley, mapping out points of interest, and areas demanding further exploration.

She pulled her knees onto the bed, straddling me, then rose up to repeat the unbuttoning and unbuckling that almost stirred up trouble the day before. I unbuttoned my shirt mindlessly as I watched her every move. She looked toward the door.

"I'm sorry! I thought the room was vacant! I'm so sorry!"

Sonja Vera's voice. She backed out quickly and closed the door. We looked at each other and chuckled again.

"This is exactly why we need automatic locks on these doors."

She crawled backward and stood facing me. She began pulling the waistcoat off her shoulders.

"Leave it on. I like it."

She pulled it back up over her shoulders, never breaking eye contact. She paused for a few seconds. A playful smile grew on her face, briefly biting her lower lip before the smile faded into a more serious expression. She reached into her coat exposing sublime breasts. Her fingers rode up from beneath, over top, and up to her neck and mouth as her forearms pushed together before letting them fall as her fingers reached up and ran through her hair, her eyes only glancing down for a moment before recapturing mine.

She was in full control as I was trying to remember how to breath. I watched her hands caress their way back down, down... down. She leaned forward slightly as her fingertips caught the edge of the pleated skirt which did not impede their descent. With a wiggle she was free.

"Stay right there. Don't move." I rolled off the bed and scurried to the door, locking it, sliding the bolt, and double-checking the lock again. I thought, for just a moment, Sonya saw us, we should stop this. Fortunately, it was only a fleeting thought. We were already seen, and if I was going to get fired, it wasn't going to be for nothing.

I stripped down to my socks, pausing only briefly to make sure she was watching. I crawled back onto the bed and got comfortable. "Okay... where were we?"

Many times I thanked the Heavens for what little experience I had in love-making because that girl had an insatiable appetite--as if she'd been starving--and every touch was more nourishing, more satisfying, than the last. The way she looked at me, as if I were... delicious.

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