Chapter Four Life At The Inn
Aryn
A door closed somewhere further down, voices overlapped briefly before separating again, and the scent of something warm drifted up from below. I followed it without thinking too much about it, letting the layout guide me back toward the main level.
The coffee station was set up for guests to help themselves, everything within reach and labeled in a way that suggested people were trusted to manage it without supervision.
I stepped up to the machine and studied it for a second longer than necessary because up close it seemed more complicated than necessary.
Really, all I wanted was a simple cup of coffee, a little sugar, a little cream.
It had labels for espresso, lattes and some other gibberish that more elite coffee drinkers liked.
“You can do it yourself," a voice said from behind me, bright and confident, “but I make it better."
I turned.
A short brunette with large eyes stood a few steps away, already moving closer as though the conversation had been agreed to without my input. She reached the counter and set her hands on it with easy familiarity.
“I’m Kitty," she added. “You’re new."
“I just arrived," I said, holding out my hand. “Aryn."
“You look very familiar," she replied as she shook my hand. She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at me again.
“I’m an actor, you might have seen me in a few films," I mentioned.
“No, I don’t think that’s it," Kitty murmured as she shook her head dismissively. “Let me make you a coffee."
“I was going to try but it seems complicated," I said, glancing back at the machine.
“That’s what everyone says," she replied, reaching past me and pressing a button before I could stop her.
The machine made a sound that suggested it was considering cooperation before deciding against it. It sputtered once, then stopped entirely.
“That’s new." Kitty frowned at it. She pressed another button. “It was working earlier."
“I’m glad you broke it and not me," I murmured.
“I didn’t break it." she said, opening a small panel on the side and peering inside as though the problem might reveal itself if she looked closely enough. “It might just need something refilled on it."
I stepped slightly to the side to give her space, then leaned in again when she didn’t immediately find what she was looking for.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I wondered.
“Not exactly," she said, “but I’m confident."
“That’s reassuring."
“It should be," she replied. “Confidence is half the solution."
“And the other half?” I asked in amusement.
“Pressing buttons until something happens." Kitty began tapping at the control panel.
“You don’t think that’s going to make it worse?” I tilted my head to get a better look around her, not that I could see a solution when I didn’t even know what was wrong with the coffee machine.
She laughed under her breath and pressed another button. The machine whirred this time, louder than before, then produced something that might have been coffee if you were willing to be generous with the definition.
Kitty stared at it for a second. “That’s not right."
“It’s very thick," I observed the sludge coming out.
“That’s not helpful."
“It wasn’t meant to be," I dryly stated.
She reached for a different setting, adjusted something else, and tried again. The second attempt was better, though still not entirely convincing.
“I think we’re getting there," she said.
“I think we’re close enough," I replied, taking the cup before she could make another adjustment. “Thank you."
“You’re welcome," she said, then studied me again, her expression sharpening slightly. “Okay, now I’m at ninety-five percent."
“For what?” I looked down at her in bemusement, convinced she was related to Lydia Bennet. They both had more confidence and energy than they knew what to do with.
“For knowing who you are."
“That seems like a risky increase."
“It is," she said. “But I’m willing to commit."
“Maybe don’t," another voice said, calm and familiar.
Looking past Kitty, I saw a slightly more mature version of Lydia and Kitty, a little taller, and more curious.
She had the same dark brunette hair and brown eyes.
She stood just beyond the doorway, her gaze moving from Kitty to me with a level of certainty that didn’t require the same kind of calculation.
“You’re Aryn Levich," she said. There was no hesitation in it, no buildup, just a simple statement.
“I am," I replied in confirmation.
Kitty pointed at me as though that confirmed something important. “See? I told you."
“You said ninety-five percent," the sister corrected.
“That’s practically one hundred."
“It isn’t."
“It’s close enough," Kitty retorted.
“And you are?” I asked, extending my hand in greeting.
“Lucy Bennet." She stepped forward to shake my hand, studying me. “I’ve seen all of your films."
“That’s a commitment," I said.
“It is," she agreed. “I liked the science fiction one."
“The one with the ship," Kitty added helpfully.
“Yes," Lucy said. “That one."
“It’s not usually the one people mention first," I murmured. “You only liked that one?”
“The other are Hollywood cardboard cutout action flicks that aren’t very different from each other. The space one isn’t what you usually do," she replied. “The structure was different. I believe it was indie funded?”
“It was." I glanced at her, more interested now than I had been a moment before. “What made you like it?”
Lucy considered that briefly, then answered in a way that suggested she had already thought about it before. “It wasn’t driven by the action, it was driven by the decisions. The character wasn’t reacting, he was anticipating. Plus there was a lot of humor and explanation behind the science."
“That was the intention." I had a fond smile on my face, remembering the project. It had happened near the beginning of my career, on a set full of people who had passion for the project. It hadn’t been about the money, it had been about getting the project right.
It had been one of my favorite sets to work on.
“It worked," she said. “Mostly."
“Mostly?” I questioned in surprise.
“The ending felt rushed," she said, her tone matter-of-fact rather than critical. “It didn’t give the characters enough time to resolve what had been built."
“Really. I hadn’t realized," I reTophered, thinking back and wondering if Lucy might have a point.
“Overall, it was a good film," she replied.
Kitty looked between us, clearly following none of that. “I liked the explosions."
“This is strange," she mused.
“In what way?” I asked, still bemused by the Bennet sisters. Just how many sisters did Meri have?
“I think fans aren’t supposed to meet actors like this," Lucy said. “It makes it… different."
Kitty frowned. “Different how?”
“Less like the story," Lucy explained. “More like real life. It taints the character a bit."
I didn’t respond immediately, mostly because I was trying to decide if she expected an answer.
“That doesn’t mean it’s bad," she added after a moment. “Just… not the same."
“That seems fair," I reTophered. It was a rare day that people didn’t want to meet me, have a selfie or an autograph. The Bennet girls were refreshingly different.
Kitty still looked unconvinced. “I think it’s great. He’s just a person like the rest of us."
“That’s exactly the problem," Lucy replied.
“It’s not a problem," Kitty insisted.
“It is if you liked the character more than the person," Lucy theorized.
“That’s rude," Kitty chided her sister.
“It’s accurate," Lucy reTophered.
I let out a quiet breath, something close to a laugh but not quite there. “I appreciate the honesty."
Lucy nodded once, satisfied with that.
“Meri didn’t like the ending either," Kitty suddenly spoke up.
That caught my attention.
“No?” I asked, as I stirred in some cream and sugar into the mess that was in my mug.
“She said it broke the internal logic of the premise, which it did, but I thought that was the whole point of the movie. Meri didn’t agree," Lucy replied.
“That’s a strong opinion." I frowned. Maybe Meri was going to be a harder nut to crack than I previously thought.
“She’s usually right," Lucy said.
Kitty leaned against the counter. “Meri has strong opinions about everything."
“She has accurate opinions most of the time," Lucy automatically corrected.
“That’s debatable," Kitty reTophered.
“So what is Meri like?” I ventured to ask.
“She’s Meri," Kitty said a little dismissively. “She’s hard to describe."
“She’s a very private person with a witty sense of humor that I enjoy," Lucy answered.
“What does she like to do?” I questioned further.
“Why?” Kitty frowned. Both sisters turned their eyes on me, tilting their heads.
“Why the sudden interest?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know," I stumbled with my answer, shrugging my shoulders. “I was just curious. I met her this afternoon. She gave me the tour."
Lucy folded her arms across her chest, studying me as though she wasn’t quite satisfied with my answer.
“She likes books. She always seems to have her nose buried in one or is typing away at her computer." Kitty rolled her eyes. She looked at her watch. “Oh, the delivery should be here."
I took a sip of the coffee sludge from the mug I was holding, had a hard time swallowing, and immediately set down the mug next to the coffee machine. “Is there anything I can help with?”
Kitty looked at me as though that was the most unexpected part of the conversation so far. “Help with what?”
“Anything," I said as I noticed a large group of people heading towards the lobby. “You seem busy."
“We’re always busy," she replied.
“That didn’t answer the question."
“It did," Lucy answered with a mischievous grin. “You can help Jane."
“Who is Jane?” I asked.
“Another sister," Lucy revealed with a speculative look and I realized that she might be a bit of a gatekeeper when it came to Meri. I might have to try to win her over as well.
I followed Lucy down the hallway toward the kitchen, the shift in sound and temperature marking the transition before the doorway came into view. A curvy woman with blonde hair stood at the counter, focused on something that required both hands and her full attention.
“I brought help," Lucy said.
Jane glanced up, her expression softening slightly when she saw Lucy. “Lucy, you can’t just keep roping guests into helping us. They are supposed to be enjoying themselves, not sorting out our inventory, doing repair work, or whatever other projects you have in mind."
“He offered," Lucy observed. “And we can’t really afford to turn down free help."
“I can carry something, or move things around if you need me to," I mentioned with a smile.
“That last one would be helpful," Jane replied. She gestured toward a stack of supplies near the door. “Those need to go to the back storage room. Lucy can show you where that is."
I nodded and stepped forward, grabbing a couple of boxes from the pile.
The hallway narrowed as I turned, and I misjudged the angle slightly, catching the edge of the box against the doorframe before correcting it.
“Careful," Lucy said, holding her own box and leading the way. “It’s narrower than it looks."
“That would have been useful information earlier." I grunted.
She smiled slightly as she made the turn in the hallway. Lucy set down her box on the floor before using a key to unlock a door. The storage room was large and well labelled.
“Meri and I might have gone a little overboard with organizing everything. If the box is labelled with what’s in it, you can just find the shelf it’s supposed to be on and slide it on there," Lucy advised.
Between the two of us, it took perhaps ten minutes to transport the boxes to the storage room and put them away.
“So why the interest in Meri?” Lucy asked again, clearly not satisfied with my earlier answer.
Again I shrugged and turned on my most charming smile. It was the one that had gotten me out of multiple troubles throughout my life. “I suppose I’m simply curious."
“It’s more than that," Lucy persisted.
“Okay. I guess she wasn’t really charmed by my smile. You don’t seem to be either. It’s an anomaly in my world when that happens. Your other sister, Linda, she was quite happy to get a picture and autograph," I casually said, deliberately missaying Lydia’s name.
“Lydia. She’s a social media fiend. You’re about to have any local fans swamping you here at the inn," Lucy dryly warned.
I was about to reply when my phone buzzed in my pocket. “Excuse me, I need to take this."
Stepping out into the hall and to a quieter spot, I brought the cell phone to my ear. “Aryn."
“Tell me you’re going to take the role," my agent Ed said without preamble.
“I haven’t committed to it," I said. I pinched the bridge of my nose, slightly grateful the call was taking me away from the all too observant Lucy while also irritated.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear."
“I’m aware." We had been arguing over the point for the past three weeks.
“This is a strong offer," he continued. “Multi-picture deal, good money, and it strongly fits your casting type. I don’t see why you’re hesitating on this."
I leaned back against the wall, my gaze drifting toward the window without focusing on anything specific. “It’s been done. I’ve done this role so many times, I’m tired of it."
“Your fans aren’t tired of it and it’s a good career even if you’ve been typecast a little," Ed replied. “It works. Take the deal."
“I’ll think about it," I promised before ending the call with a grimace. I was trying to forge a different path forward and I knew Ed wouldn’t like it.
Putting my phone away, I resolved to learn more about the Bennets and the SnowDrop Inn.