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He stood at reception, listening to a clock somewhere ticking. Then he heard scrambling down the hall next to the staircase. From the sounds of it, from the kitchen. "Hold on, hold on... I'm coming. Shit," a female voice cursed and it was followed by a crashing sound.
Then she burst into the hallway, all frantic energy. She was probably around Hannah's age with deep auburn colored hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She had a sharp face, catlike almost with a thin, straight nose, small lips, and piercing ice blue eyes. She had the frame you typically saw in fashion magazines, tall and willowy, without much feminine curve at all. She wore skinny-legged light blue jeans and a lightweight white sweater. Keys jingled from a hook at her hip as she scurried behind the desk, a huge cup of coffee overflowing and spilling down her hand.
"Ouch, damn it," she said, shaking her hand and wiping it against the her leg. Up close, Elliott noticed a very light flecking of freckles over the bridge of her nose and how impossibly red even her eyelashes were.
She settled her papers and finally looked up at him with a fake, knee-jerk hospitality smile. But the smile faltered slightly as she looked at him and was replaced with a genuine, female appreciative smile. "Well then. I'm sorry for all the cursing. It's been one of those nights. Anyway. Hello. Welcome. My name is Emily. What can I help you with?"
Elliott reached into his pocket for his wallet. She had a slightly deeper voice. Husky one could call it, though feminine. He could practically feel her energy buzzing like a beehive from across the desk. "I need a room," he said, placing his credit card on the desk. One of Emily's perfectly arched red eyebrows rose in a way that suggest "well duh". Instead, she smiled her fake forced smile again and reached for the card.
"Of course Mr... Michaels," There was a flicker of something in her eyes, recognition quickly pushed away. "Any preferences of room type? Front view of the town. Back view of the woods..."
"Just a king size bed," he clarified as she typed away at the computer.
"Right," she said, not looking up. "And do you know how long you would like to stay to pay up front or would you like to pay when you checkout?"
"I don't know how long I'll be in town."
"Alright, pay at check-out. So what are you doing in historic Stars Landing?" she asked in a confident, rehearsed way, the way people do when they have said something over and over again for years.
"Business," he said, not entirely lying.
One of Emily's brows quirked and her lip turned up on one side as if she were repressing the urge to call him on his bull. There was no business to be had in Stars Landing.
"Right, well," she said, hitting one last button on the computer and turning to take a key off a peg on the wall behind her, "you are going to be in room six," she came back from around the counter and looked toward the floor next to him. "Would you like to run and grab your luggage?"
"I'll get it later," he said, noting how surly his voice sounded. From the infuriatingly false smile on her face again, she noted it as well.
"Alright then, well right this way," she said, taking up the steps in a long-legged pace. They came to a landing, a space with cherry blossom wallpaper and four closed doors. Rooms, he assumed. They turned a corner and she put the key into a white door with a red six painted on it. She opened the door and stood in the entrance, an arm outstretched for him to enter. Once he stepped inside, she surprised him by following him in. She switched on a light on the nightstand, brightening the dark room. The walls were deep blue with gold fleur-de-lis. The bedspread was the same blue with white sheets peeking out.
"This is your closet," she said, opening the door and pulling a string to brighten the small white closet with ironing board and wooden hangers. "And through here," she said opening another door and flicking the light on, "is the bathroom. Fresh towels are on the counter as are basic personal care products. If you need more of anything, just pick up the phone and hit the number one and I'll bring them right up." She made the speech as she slowly made her way back to the hallway door. "Alright I will leave you be to settle in. Have a great stay," she said, closing the door before he could even respond.
Because she knew all she would get would be his coolness. She wasn't going to put up with that.
He felt a smile pulling at his lips. He respected that.
He got his bags and showered and got into bed, restless, wondering what the hell his next move was. Was he just going to mosey around the town hoping to bump into her? Even if she was in Stars Landing... was that likely? He could seek out her parents. It seemed like the place she was most likely to stay.
He fell to sleep, uneasy though the bed was comfortable and the world outside was shockingly quiet.
–
He woke up and dressed, wishing suddenly that he packed something other than a suit. He was sure to stick out like a sore thumb in a small town wearing a three-piece designer suit. But it was all he had so he dressed as usual and made his way down the staircase, the inn abuzz with noise in complete contrast to the quiet from the night before.
Elliott walked toward the dining room, hoping he could grab a cup of coffee to-go and be on his way. He hadn't expected such a crowd. The inn couldn't possibly have held more than eight rooms, but there was at least thirty people in the dining room. A few of the tables, tourists certainly, gabbed excitedly. The other tables, locals he assumed, fell quiet seeing him standing in the doorway.
Like a sore thumb, he thought wryly.
From the corner of the room, he spotted Emily, her hair in another neat ponytail and dressed in black slacks and a tight black wrap shirt which highlighted her slightness all the more. "Take a seat, Mr. Michaels," she yelled across the dining room, "someone will be right with you."
Elliott struggled with the urge to just turn and leave. He didn't want to sit down. He wanted a to-go coffee. But the interested gaze of all the diners kept him from bolting and he took a seat at a small table meant for two with a floral tablecloth.
A moment later, a young male waiter, everything about him pressed and pristine put down a coffee cup for him and poured it without him having asked. He pulled a menu out of nowhere and placed it in front of him. "Just let me know whenever you are ready," he said, efficient, not chatty or overly friendly. He belonged in a prissy hotel in Paris, not a small town inn. But Elliott appreciated the lack of familiarity. He didn't need to make friends with all the locals.
He ended up ordering a big breakfast of eggs scrambled hard, bacon, and hash browns, finding he was actually quite famished. He had four cups of coffee and left an obnoxiously large tip to the young waiter who took it with a "thank you" that he assumed he used whether he was left fifty cents or the fifty dollars
Elliott left him. But before he left, he noticed the young man had given him a to-go cup of coffee without having been asked. It always paid to be generous with anyone in the service industry.
Stars Landing was a flurry of activity as he walked down the main street. People walked in and out of stores with bags, groups stood on the sidewalks or even in the streets talking, all laughs and smiles. Happy, small town people.
