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“Go get the fox, Molly,” he replies. “I will BRT when you get back home.”
I know he’s not here with me, but it feels like he is. It’s like he’s holding my hand through the line.
“Yes. Thank you, Juan Manuel.”
I hang up and tuck my phone away.
It’s time.
I take a deep breath, then walk out of the shadows onto the sidewalk.
Always look both ways….
I cross the street, trying to do so normally, without rushing, reminding myself to act as though it’s just another ordinary day. I steady myself at the landing, holding tightly to the brass rail. Then I put one foot in front of the other, and I climb the plush red stairs.
Mr. Preston sees me. He picks up the hotel phone on his podium and makes a call. I can hear him sounding perfectly believable when he says, “Yes. Urgently. She’s here at the front door and she won’t leave.”
As planned, Mr. Preston is wearing white gloves, not part of his regular uniform. He usually wears these only on special occasions, but they’ll come in handy today.
“Molly,” he says loudly and brusquely. “What are you doing here? You can’t be at the hotel today. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He looks around to make sure people are watching. Several guests are streaming in and out of the hotel. A couple of valets on the sidewalkstop what they’re doing and watch as well. It’s as though I’m an engaging spectator sport.
Though it feels so strange to do so, it’s time to play my part, to draw even more attention my way. “I have every right to be here,” I call out in a confident, booming voice. “I’m an esteemed employee of this hotel, and—”
I stop short when Mr. Snow emerges from the revolving doors.
Mr. Preston swiftly moves toward him. “I’ll get Security,” he tells Mr. Snow, then heads through the revolving doors.
Mr. Snow rushes over to me. “Molly,” he says. “I’m sorry to inform you that you are no longer employed at the Regency Grand Hotel. You must leave the grounds immediately.”
The words are a shock to me, and I must say I feel utterly bereft when I hear them. Still, I breathe deeply and stick to my performance, delivering my next lines even louder than my previous ones. “But I’m a model employee! You can’t just fire me without cause!”
“As you well know, thereiscause, Molly,” Mr. Snow says. “We need you off these steps. Now.”
“This is inconceivable,” I say. “I won’t leave.”
Mr. Snow straightens his glasses. “You’re disturbing the guests,” he hisses.
I look around and see that more guests have gathered. It seems the valets have tipped off Reception. Several employees from the concierge desk are standing by them, whispering to one another. They’re all looking my way.
For the next few minutes, I keep Mr. Snow engaged on the stairs, demanding explanations, begging him to reconsider, talking at length about the added value of my devotion to hygiene and the high level of quality I bring to the hotel with each guest room that I clean. I channel Gran, how she used to be in the morning, how she would chirp and chirp and chirp without so much as a pause for breath. The whole time, I’m aware that we have only a few minutes left before the whole plan falls apart. I’m also aware that I’m not in uniform, which adds to mydistress and general discomfort.Come back, Mr. Preston. Quickly!I think to myself.
At long last, he walks briskly through the revolving doors and stands beside Mr. Snow.
“I can’t find Security, sir,” he announces.
“I can’t get her to leave,” Mr. Snow replies.
“Let me handle this,” Mr. Preston says. Mr. Snow nods and steps aside. “Molly, a word…”
Mr. Preston gently pulls me aside, out of earshot. We both turn our backs to the curious crowd.
“Did it work?” I whisper.
“It did. I found Cheryl.”
“And then what?” I ask.
“I got what I wanted.”
