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“It sure would be nice, but you know as well as anybody what the budget’s like.”
“Things’ll be a lot better once you get us that golf resort. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. The inn’ll pick up business from all the guests who want to play the golf course but don’t want to pay the resort’s room prices. Plus, I’ll finally be able to open up the tearoom and bookstore next door like I’ve always wanted. I’m thinkin’ of calling it the Sip ’N’ Browse.”
“Sounds good. But the resort is far from being sewed up.”
“It will be, Ted. You’ll make sure of it. We need those jobs so bad.”
Ted nodded, as if he had every confidence in the world he’d be able to deliver them.
Birdie finally turned her sparrow eyes on Meg. Her lids bore the lightest dusting of frosted copper shadow, and she looked even more unfriendly than during their confrontation in the ladies’ room. “I hear you didn’t get around to settling up your account before you took off.” She came around from behind the desk. “Maybe hotels in L.A. let their guests stay for free, but we’re not as sophisticated here in Wynette.”
“There was a mistake,” Meg said. “Silly, really. I thought the, uhm, Joriks were taking care of it. I mean, I assumed . . . I . . .” She was only making herself sound more incompetent.
Birdie crossed her arms over her breasts. “How do you intend to pay your bill, Miz Koranda?”
Meg reminded herself that she’d never have to see Ted Beaudine after today. “I—I can’t help but notice that you’re a very well dressed person. I have an incredible pair of earrings from the Sung dynasty in my suitcase. One of a kind. I bought them in Shanghai. They’re worth a lot more than four hundred dollars.” At least they were if she chose to believe the rickshaw driver. Which she did. “Would you be interested in barter?”
“I’m not into wearing other people’s castoffs. I guess that’s more an L.A. thing.”
Ruling out Ginger Rogers’s cloche.
Meg tried again. “The earrings really aren’t castoffs. They’re valuable pieces of antiquity.”
“Can you pay your bill or not, Miz Koranda?”
Meg tried to come up with a response but couldn’t.
“I guess that answers the question.” Ted gestured toward the desk phone. “Is there somebody you can call? I sure would hate to have to take you across the street.”
She didn’t believe him for a moment. He’d love nothing more than to book her himself. He’d probably even volunteer to do the strip search.
Bend over, Miz Koranda.
She shivered, and Ted offered up that slow smile, as if he’d read her mind.
Birdie displayed her first show of enthusiasm. “I have an idea. I’d be more than happy to talk to your father for you. Explain the situation.”
I’ll just bet you would. “Unfortunately, my father is out of reach right now.”
“Maybe Miz Koranda could work it off,” Ted said. “Didn’t I hear you were short a maid?”
“A maid?” Birdie said. “Oh, she’s way too sophisticated to clean hotel rooms.”
Meg swallowed hard. “I’d be . . . happy to help you out here.”
“You’d better think this through,” Ted said
. “What are you paying, Birdie? Seven—seven-fifty an hour? Once Uncle Sam gets his share—and assuming she works a full shift—that’s a couple weeks’ work. I doubt Miz Koranda could handle cleaning bathrooms for that long.”
“You have no idea what Miz Koranda can handle,” Meg said, trying to look much tougher than she felt. “I’ve been on a cattle drive in Australia and hiked the Annapurna circuit in Nepal.” Only ten miles of it, but still . . .
Birdie lifted her penciled eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ted that they both seemed to understand. “Well . . . I do need a maid,” Birdie said. “But if you think you can work off your bill by loafing around, you’re in for an unhappy surprise.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“All right, then. Do your job, and I won’t press charges. But if you try to skip out, you’ll find yourself in the Wynette City Jail.”
“Fair enough,” Ted said. “I only wish all disputes could be solved so peacefully. It’d be a better world, now wouldn’t it?”
