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The city,ha! You soon got over that desire.
I had not stayed long, but the one time I had gone with my mother to the city, I hated it. It was crowded. We had gone to a park, and I had gotten lost in the crowd.
Admit it, girl! You're happy here.
You also might have to sell this lodge before very long.
Why do you keep holding on to it?
Because I'm happy here …
I was nineteen when my parents died in a ghastly car accident. I was devastated; the thought of staying in the Lodge alone without them scared me. I was told that I could decide to sell it off and move anywhere I wished, but thinking about how it had been something my parents were proud of, I couldn't do that. I clung to their memory, and the Lodge was the way I did it. I stayed back and continued running the business, and I felt it was the best decision I ever made.
I checked every vacant room; it was a routine I had developed. I aired out a couple of the rooms that hadn’t been used in a while.
By 1:30, I was in my room running the numbers of keeping my lodge open for business.
Without a miracle, we are close to the end, my dear woman.
I was behind on my mortgage. I cut back where I could. I needed all the cash I could get.
Time to get to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the guests I still have.
The choice of serving my lodgers food was optional to them, but they had to order it a day in advance. I couldn’t afford to do otherwise. I added the price to their tab. I only served breakfast and dinner.
You are something of a great chef!
I could dazzle first-timers by making them dishes that were as traditional as they were tasty. I served what the French call a fixed menu: my guests got the meal that I felt like preparing, and they all paid the same price to me for it.
I had only three guests today, so I wasn't really worried about how the cooking would go. The first two lodgers were men who had come to town some weeks back. I had no idea why they had booked two different rooms as they barely stayed in them. They would go out and not come back for days. I suspected them of shady business, but I didn't pry. They had recently gotten back from one of their long trips and had been around more. They spent the time they were here in their rooms and ate their meals alone.
The last guests were Sherry and her son, Bryan. They were residents of the town. A tragic fire had claimed their house and she needed a place to stay. Quite fortunately, she had excellent insurance, which rehoused her and rebuilt the home. Her insurance company paid for her and Bryan to live here in the Lodge during the reconstruction.
I didn't mind having them around; it felt safe seeing familiar faces around me. Sherry worked as a waitress in a fancy restaurant in a neighboring town, so she was mostly away. Bryan, who was ten years old, kept me company whenever he returned from school. He also helped me out with a few chores. I loved having him around.
Today’s dinner wasn't much work, but the headache I felt was too much for me to handle, so I decided to rest for a few minutes before I started my cooking. My rest turned into a two-hour nap. I woke up feeling better but had to rush to the kitchen to put dinner together before the guests complained.
By the end of the day, I could barely keep myself up despite my nap. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.
It was Friday and I was at the reception desk. I manned it on Fridays as I knew it to be one of the days I had new guests come in at any hour. I had gotten just two guests that afternoon.
The front door opened, and I wasn't surprised at who came in: Mr. Johnson was back again, with, as always, another woman on his arm. This woman was tall—much taller than him. She, like the others before her, looked like a model and carried herself regally. It still amazed me how he was able to get such women.
I rolled my eyes—mentally—before they got to the counter. He was that one guest I could always bank on to come around, but I still didn't like the kind of life he lived.
You can’t afford to be judgmental in this business!I chided myself.
"Welcome to King's Oak Lodge," I said with a smile. Even though Mr. Johnson and I knew each other, I dared not act like I had met him before. I gave him the same room as always.
Just as Mr. Johnson left, the door flung open, and in walked the hottest man I had ever seen in my life.
Well, well, well. Eye candy!Certainly not another Mr. Johnson!
He was tall, about six foot two or three, and he walked with so much confidence and swagger.
Like he owns the place. Hmmm, not my place you don’t!
"Hello, I reserved a room for several weeks," he said in a very sweet voice.
