To be honest, this is the first time I’ve taken time for myself in years. The only decisions I’ve made have been ones that were urgent and affected the company. No real life-changing, personal decisions. Everything else has been a command from my parents.
Sure, I’ll let my mother’s stylist work on my wardrobe, which is a lot of slacks and button-up shirts, and I’m good with weekly calls to check in, but demanding I marry someone I don’t get along with is taking it too far. At least until I weigh all the options and decide for myself.
There’s a small grocery store at the end of town, so I pull into the parking lot and start searching for a hotel. I call a few, but they don’t answer or have a message telling me they’re closed until May. I can’t wait two weeks to find a hotel. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the last city I passed through and come here tomorrow.
There’s a bed-and-breakfast, but those tend to be glorified Airbnb’s, where someone just took their home and said, “Hey, come stay here to help me pay the mortgage.” At least that’s been my limited experience.
I swipe through the pictures and it looks clean. Maybe I can try it for tonight. Somewhere to rest my head that isn’t in motion would be perfect.
I drive to the address and it’s well-maintained, which isn’t the same as another section of town I just passed. Turning to look at the other yards and homes surrounding it, they all look clean. Maybe it was the assumption that the town was going under that I thought it would be a lot of run-down properties.
I knock on the door, hoping it’s open—or at least has a room available.
It takes another knock and a few more seconds before the door opens. “Hello?”
“Hi,” I say, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m wondering if you have any rooms available?”
“For tonight?” the man asks.
I hesitate for a few seconds, surprised by the question since I’m standing here. “Um, yeah. Tonight would be great.”
The man waves me in. He’s about my age, with dark brown hair and a solid build, but he’s got at least two inches on me. He’s tan, while I look like a sixteenth-century royal who wasn’t allowed outside very often.
He walks around the counter and starts tapping at a computer keyboard. “How many nights do you want to stay?”
“Let’s just do tonight for now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.” That’s the fundamental truth. Maybe I’d have a life revelation tomorrow and be able to head back to New York.
The man inclines his head. “I’m Brock. My wife, Chloe, and I own the B&B. We’re down the hall that way if you need anything before tomorrow,” he says, pointing to my right. “Can I see identification and a card, please?”
“Can I just pay cash?” I ask, pulling out the stack of bills I brought from home.
Brock looks confused, as if he’s never had this situation before. “Um, we usually do the card just in case of damage.”
“I’ll chip in an extra hundred dollars. It’s just me, with no animals, and a deep desire to sleep. Would that work?” I say, counting out the bills.
Brock lets out a breath. “That’ll work. Let me get your name.”
“Max…Luca.”
I’m not sure why I use my middle name as my last, but something about the anonymity of being here makes me relax. I doubt too many people will recognize me in this small town, but I don’t doubt there are plenty of keyboard warriors that would trigger some alert to tip off Wolfgang Bauer. It sounds like a stretch, but I need time, and this is the best way I can get it.
Brock enters the information and says, “Do you have a car here? Or did Avery bring you?”
“I have a rental car.” The name registers in my brain, and I realize he’s talking about the woman who picked me up. “Is that her job?” I ask, now curious. Lila said something about a rideshare, but I thought she was kidding.
“As long as it’s a ride in the afternoon or evening now, she’ll do it. I’m not sure why she can’t do mornings anymore.”
I think back to our conversation, and she mentioned something about a coffee shop. Maybe it was outside of town? Or far from here?
“Okay, there’s a small parking lot out back for your car. Here’s your key,” he says, turning behind him and pulling an antique key from the wall.
I’m used to having my room key on my phone, so this will be an experience. At least I don’t have a bunch of stuff to carry around.
Then again, I still don’t have a plan for why I’m here, which makes me twitch. I’m used to opening my phone to my schedule and speeding through the day with meetings and negotiations. This blank, open-ended day will be character revealing.
“Thank you,” I say, tucking the key into my pocket.
I walk up to my room a few minutes later—after parking the car—rolling my small suitcase up to the wall next to the door. It’s a smaller room, but it has the décor and feel of a cabin. There’s wood trim all over, and the walls are a forest green. The bedding features bears and lots of trees, and I smile as I look at it. Everything is clean, and it even smells good in here. Well done, Brock and Chloe.
