5. Lydia
5
LYDIA
T he wind outside forced its way through various cracks and crevices, making the old inn howl like it was in some kind of horror movie. I hated it. It had only gotten worse over the years. It meant there were windows loose in their casings and shingles loose on the roof. It also made everything inside feel so much colder than it really was.
The vacancy rate was up so I closed off a good portion of the rooms on the southern half of the inn. It really helped me to save on utilities. I could easily open up one of the floors if there were a sudden influx of visitors, but the storm had pretty much driven everyone who wasn’t a local out of town.
I had just finished banking the fire in the lobby area when the phone started ringing like crazy.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m coming, hold on already,” I called out as I ran to answer it. “Sweet Mountain Inn, how can I help you?” I asked.
“This is the Quality Suites out by the interstate at exit thirty-seven. I was calling to see if I could send some folks your way. We are completely booked up.”
I tried not to bark out surprised laughter. I literally had one guest staying at the inn and had closed up half of my available rooms waiting for warmer weather.
“Yes, of course I have plenty of space. How many people are you expecting?” I asked.
“I’ve already sent one fellow headed back to Brookdale and I have several people waiting in my lobby hoping I can help them find places to ride out this storm.”
“I still have power, so send them this way,” I said. “I hope the road stays open and clear for them to get here safely.”
“Thanks, I will let everyone know. What’s your capacity?” the clerk asked. “The motel at exit thirty has been sending people to me, and I’m completely full.”
“I have forty rooms and a decent-sized lobby if I get booked up. And if we are super strapped, I can ask people to share.”
“I’m not allowed to do any of that, but we’ll probably have people camping out in the lobby. I mean, this storm isn’t safe,” he said.
“That’s the difference between being privately owned and a corporate hotel,” I said. I could make accommodations in an emergency without risking my job. As we finished the conversation, the bell over the front door chimed and the first guest of the storm swept in with a gust of cold air.
He stopped inside the door to stomp circulation back into his feet and brushed snow from his shoulders. He shivered and made all the blustery noises that a person made when they came in from the cold. Before I had a chance to welcome him to the Sweet Mountain Inn, he made a beeline for the fireplace and stood close while rubbing his hands together and holding them out to the flames. He was barely dressed for the unseasonably cold spring we were having, let alone being dressed for a snowstorm.
As I crossed the lobby toward him, I grabbed one of the throw blankets from the back of one of the settees.
“Did the hotel out by the freeway send you?” I asked as I handed him the blanket. There were still snowflakes in his dark hair.
I was stunned into place by his model good looks. He was shivering so hard he could barely speak. He stuttered his thanks as he took the blanket and wrapped it over his head and around his shoulders.
“Would you like some hot coffee?” I managed to ask.
He nodded as he pulled one of the wingback sitting chairs closer to the fire.
I grabbed another blanket and draped it over his lap before I went to the bar where I kept coffee service ready for my guests. I had to start a fresh pot anyway since I was expecting more people.
It didn’t take long before I had half a cup of steaming hot coffee to give to the man. He wrapped his long finger around the paper cup and placed his face directly over the steam.
“It feels like I barely made it. I had to pull over on the other side of town, the snow is so bad,” he said.
“You walked here?” I asked.
“Only the last half mile or so. I’m surprised I managed to make it as far as I did.”
I sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace from him.
“I just got off the phone with one of the hotels out by the freeway. He said he was going to send people this way.”
The man shook his head. “They won’t make it. The storm gets worse as you get closer to town than it was out by the freeway. I can’t imagine anyone getting through behind me.”
“Is it really that bad?” I got up and crossed the lobby to look out the front window, not that I could see anything beyond the snow piling up on the edge of the inn’s porch. “Crap, I haven’t seen snow like this in several years and definitely not in the middle of March.”
I returned to where my half frozen guest was clearly starting to feel warmer. He no longer sat hunched in over himself but stood up taller than I had realized. As he shrugged out of his overcoat, I noticed exactly how broad his shoulders were. He wrapped one of the blankets back around his shoulders and strode to the coffee setup to pour himself a refill.
“I’m really glad you were still open and that I managed to get through on the road. I don’t know what I would have done if I had gotten stuck out there. I’m in a rental with no emergency blankets or supplies,” he said as he stirred sugar and creamer into his drink.
I retreated back behind my front desk. There was something about this man that set my nerves on edge. When I thought he was half frozen he seemed harmless enough, but now that he was more comfortable, there was a very definite aura of strength and power about him. It didn’t help that he was ridiculously attractive and just my type.
He strode over, following me, and set his cup of coffee on the counter. He reached into his back pocket. “I guess we should make this official and check in.”
“I guess so,” I said with a self-conscious giggle. I opened the old-fashioned guest registry and swung the big book around as I handed him a pen and then pointed to the line for him to fill out.
“Shouldn’t all of this be computerized?” he asked as he left his chicken scratch of a signature.
“It is,” I said. “But the inn has kept handwritten registration logs consistently since it first opened in 1895, and it seems like it would be a shame to stop doing so now.” I spun the book around and began copying his information into my hotel guest registry software. As I was typing, the power flicked on and off, staying off for a long, dark moment before flicking back on.
I let out a breath that I had been holding in the dark. “And that’s a very good reason I had you fill out the handwritten registry first.” I clicked the keys on my now off computer, indicating that the power outage had kicked me off my system.
“Your name is…” I squinted at his bad handwriting. “James Miles?”
“You can call me Miles,” he said with a sly grin that made my stomach feel all fluttery.
“I’ll be able to update the system when it comes back online.”
I grabbed a key for one of the nicer rooms on the second floor. I jotted down the room number in the registry before suggesting that he follow me.
“How big is this place?” he asked.
“Sweet Mountain isn’t particularly large by today’s standards, but when it was built, it was considered big. Back in the day, this area of the state was a big tourist destination for health and wellness seekers. There used to be a sulfur spring, but it dried up at some point in the mid-1900s.”
“You say that like it was so long ago,” Miles said.
“I say that like someone who has zero experience of the previous century.”
“Now you’re trying to make me feel old.”
I turned and stammered a quick apology. That wasn’t my intention at all. “You aren’t that old, are you?” I asked.
“Considering I was born in the late 1900s, I don’t really know how to answer that question. I don’t feel old, but when you’re using terms like century and millennia, I have to wonder.” He was clearly teasing me, which was somehow worse than if I actually had insulted him.
I put the key in the door and my stomach sank. There was that telltale chunk as I tried to wiggle the key in the lock.
“What’s wrong?” Miles asked.
“The lock has decided to stop working,” I said with a sigh.
“It’s a simple mechanism. What do you mean it has decided to stop?”
“It might be a simple mechanism, but it’s a really old one and sometimes, they just stop working. If you’ll wait a moment, I will be right back with the key for a different room.” I scurried away as quickly as I could, completely mortified that the lock chose that moment to break.
I dangled the key for a different room as I returned. It slipped into the lock and turned without any problems. I pushed open the door and let Miles cross into his room. The heater was working beautifully, if not overcompensating as the room was almost obscenely too warm.
I followed him into the room and pointed to the thermostatic valve on the radiator. “You can adjust the heat in your room by turning that.”
I handed Miles the key. “I don’t do anything more than packaged pastries and coffee for breakfast, but considering you are here because of the storm and my other guest is stuck as well, I’ll probably end up making something for breakfast for everyone. Have a good evening,” I said as I began to step into the hallway.
“What if the power goes out?” Miles asked, pointing at the radiator. “That’ll still work, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“And where will I find you if I need anything?” Miles asked.
“I’ll be downstairs reading in case anyone else gets through on the roads.”
“Good night.” He smiled as he closed the door.