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George laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “Yep, you’re the right couple.”
I wasn’t sure why the old man kept saying that, but there was something about him that made me believe him. I would swear he knew something we didn’t know.
Drake stepped forward, with his credit card and ID at the ready. “If someone could see us to the room—it’s been a long day.”
“Anxious, are we?” George wagged his bushy white brows.
Drake didn’t find it comical, judging by the heavy breath he heaved out. I knew that one very well. His patience was about to run thin.
I stepped out into the hall and let Drake do his thing. The thing where he asked for privacy and room service. While he prided himself on his career and at times loved the limelight, he was in many ways a private person. And I was sure he didn’t want it getting out that he and I shared the honeymoon suite. Or any room at all for that matter.
While I tried not to let it bother me that he wasn’t thrilled about this situation, I admired my surroundings—the sconces on the walls marked by old photos and oil paintings of flowers. The place was outdated and could use a good sprucing, but it was, in a word, perfect. One photo in particular caught my eye. It showed a handsome skinny soldier with his arm around a cute, perky woman with blonde hair, just like mine, pulled up in a ponytail. Something in her ornery smile told me she and I could have been friends.
“That’s me and my girl.” George appeared.
I turned to find Drake and George. George was smiling, Drake was not.
“I’m going to go get our luggage,” Drake grumbled.
“Thank you,” I replied.
George held out his arm to me. “I will escort you to your room and tell you about my Daisy.”
I looped my arm through his. “I’d love that.”
Drake sighed. He knew I was a hopeless romantic—unfortunately, it was him I was hopelessly in love with.
George had a bent back and shuffled more than he walked. I felt as if I were holding him steady as we headed down the hall toward the spiral staircase.
“This place was my Daisy girl’s dream. We were married on the grounds here outside in the gazebo.”
“That sounds lovely.” I made a mental note to look at the gazebo the next morning, if it wasn’t completely covered in snow, that is.
“That it was. I promised her that day, if I made it back from Vietnam, I would buy her this place. It took me a lot of years to make good on that promise.”
That made me tear up. “What a lucky girl.”
“I was the lucky one. Fifty years wasn’t long enough with her,” he choked up.
We started up the steps, carefully and slowly.
“I’m sorry to hear she’s passed.”
“Oh, she lives in the very walls here.” He waved his gnarled and knotted free hand around. “She works her magic still.”
“Magic?”
He gave me a big smile, showing off his stained dentures. “I know you can feel it. You have the same free spirit about you that my Daisy had.”
I bit my lip and whispered, “I do feel something here.”
He nodded. “I knew you would.”
“How can you tell? You don’t even know me.”
He patted my hand that was holding on to his arm, but said not a word.
It was a laborious trip up the wooden steps, but he didn’t complain.
My mind was buzzing with his mysterious words.
It took some hard work on his part, but we finally made it to the room. We stood in front of the old wooden door, marked by a brass sign emblazoned with “Honeymoon Suite.”
“Here we are,” George said, out of breath. “A word of warning: this room is the most magical of all.” He pressed the key into my hand. “Have a good night.” He smiled mischievously before turning to walk back down the hall.
I stared after him, wondering if he was crazy or if I was. I did feel something—like my life was about to change. I brushed off that silly notion and unlocked the door with the big brass skeleton key. I walked in and flipped on the light. My breath caught in my chest as I surveyed the pristine room, complete with a large four-poster bed and a white painted fireplace with two light-blue velvet chairs placed in front of it. A handcrafted armoire stood proudly in the corner. But it was the pedestal tub for two on a raised wooden platform that won my heart. Too bad I wouldn’t get to enjoy it, as it was out in the open. I was sure Drake wouldn’t appreciate me bathing in front of him.
I slipped out of my boots and hung my coat on the nearby coatrack before hustling over to the fireplace. I was grateful all I had to do was flip a switch and it roared to life. I sat on the plush cream rug in front of it, soaking in its warmth. As I sat there, I tried not to let the magic of the romantic room, with silky smooth satin sheets already turned down, seep into my soul. It was then I realized there was no couch in this room. I resigned myself to curling up on the floor in front of the fireplace for the night. Or maybe sleeping in the tub. I bet George would bring up some extra bedding. On second thought, I should go get it. Poor man might not survive a second trip up those stairs.
