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The noise startles me. Before answering the door to my suite, I grab some tissues to attempt to wipe-off any signs that I’ve been crying. I quickly glance in the mirror to see how I look, but my red-rimmed eyes and drippy nose are a dead giveaway. Recognizing that there’s no hiding my crying binge, I reluctantly open the door.
“These came for you,” Willow says while carrying a huge flower arrangement. It’s so large, she can barely see over it.
“Oh my! Come on in and we’ll find a place for it.”
Willow spies an open flat surface on the desk in the corner and carefully sets the gorgeous bouquet down there. We both stand back to admire the magnificent arrangement. When a sniffle escapes, Willow looks at me more closely.
“Have you been crying?” she asks, with concern written on her pretty face.
Before I can explain further, she says, “Would a mug of hot chocolate make things better?”
My heart warms at this virtual stranger’s concerned attempt to make me feel better. Smiling at this sweet woman’s kind offer, I say, “It’s not what you think. I was practicing a scene in my next movie where I have to cry.”
She stares intently at my blotchy, red face and runny nose. “You sure had me fooled. Looks like you’ve been on a day long crying binge. Nicely done, M’Lynn.” A teasing smile lights up her face as she refers to Sally Field’s famous crying scene in Steel Magnolias.
Giggling, I say, “Thanks. Wait until you see me cry on film before you compliment me, though.”
“I bet that's difficult to do,” she says. “I need to get back to the reception desk. Do you still want that mug of hot chocolate?”
“Sounds lovely, but I’ll come down and get it during afternoon snacks.” Now that I’m well aware of the fact that there’s no room service at the inn, I don’t want to put any of the employees out by having to deliver a beverage to my room.
After Willow leaves, I search the bouquet to find out who sent this extravagant arrangement. The small white card reads “Congratulations to our new Josie Reynolds!”
The unexpected gesture by the movie studio brings tears to my eyes. I chuckle at the irony.
~*~
An hour later, I can’t get the craving for a mug of hot chocolate out of my mind. Tossing the script aside, I tip-toe down the stairs hoping to get a cup of cocoa and some of the afternoon snacks without anyone recognizing me. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I skid to a stop, listening to a conversation taking place around the corner. When I hear my name, my ears perk up. Although it’s never a wise idea to eavesdrop, I can’t help myself.
“Did you know that Alexis Taylor is staying here?” the first voice asks.
“Yes, I saw her the other day, acting like a teenager. Why is a grown woman going sledding?” the second voice says in a haughty tone.
“And did you see what she was wearing? A commonplace parka that you’d buy at one of those big box stores.”
Snickering and laughter. “The coat wasn’t sporting a Patagonia label, that’s for sure.”
“She was with that hunk of a maintenance man.”
“Ooh! Well, I wouldn’t mind sledding with him.”
Giggles. “Maybe the faucet in my room will spring a leak and he’ll come to my rescue.”
The voices fade and I slowly peer around the corner, watching their retreating backs. I recognize one of the women as a lady who asked me for my autograph. Now I wish I had refused her request after hearing that scathing conversation about me.
After the gossipers are out of sight, I stride into the snack area, thankful that the area is empty. Everything looks tasty, so I load-up a small plate with a few offerings from every serving tray. Crackers and cheese. . . Fresh fruit. . . Mini cupcakes. . . Grabbing a mug, I make hot chocolate from a packet and hot water. It smells delicious, although my lips tip down when I don’t see any whipped cream.
Just as I turn to run back up the stairs, I spot Evelyn sitting by the fire enjoying some of the snacks. If she sees me, she’s going to scold me for my food choices. Hugging the wall, I tip-toe back to the stairway and take the stairs two at a time. When I’m safely back in my room, I sag down at the desk with my snacks and cocoa. Breathing a sigh of relief, I settle in to enjoy my afternoon treats.
The two women’s conversation rattles around in my head. Am I acting like a teenager? Is it wrong to want to relive some of my fond childhood memories? Shaking off their criticism, I resolve to enjoy my time here and do whatever I want.
With that thought in mind, I plan how to spend more time with the dreamy maintenance man.
