Chapter 21
The line to check out of the hotel was five deep in front of both reception clerks.
In the hour since Lauren had boarded the shuttle to the airport, the lobby had gone from deserted to packed.
The storm had passed overnight, and stranded guests were eager to return to the airport and continue their holiday journeys.
To one side stood a young mother with twins in a stroller, a kindergartner, and an older elementary-aged boy. Their father was at the desk, reviewing the bill.
“Where’d you get that?” the older boy asked his younger brother.
The younger boy clutched an envelope. “It was in that bag you knocked over.”
“I didn’t knock it over! You did!”
Their mother spun on them. “Let me see that.”
The boy handed her an envelope addressed to: Mike + Pumpkin’s friend. “This note is meant for someone,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
“On the floor. When he knocked over that bag by the door.”
The older boy jumped in. “I was rolling those two suitcases—” he pointed to a pair of battered rolling bags. “The wheel came off the black one again and got tangled in the other one. I tripped, and he fell on top of me.”
“You were right in front of me!” the younger boy protested. “I couldn’t stop! And you ran over that package with the suitcase.”
“I was trying to move it out of the way.”
“Well, you didn’t.”
The mother pressed her palm to her forehead. “Boys! Stop. It’s going to be a long day. We are not starting it by arguing.” She looked at the envelope again. “So, this note was with a bag?”
The younger boy nodded.
“Then why didn’t you leave it there?”
“I didn’t know I had it,” he said. “When I fell, I dropped my sketchpad. I must’ve scooped it up with my papers.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay. We’re not taking this with us. Stay here with your sisters. Do not move. Our shuttle will be here any minute.”
Her husband stepped out of line, credit card and receipt in hand.
The mother marched to the counter. “Excuse me,” she said to the clerk. “My children found this in the hallway. It belongs to someone on our floor.” She gave their room number.
The clerk glanced at the envelope. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll place it in the Lost and Found.” He tossed it onto an open area of the credenza behind him.
“The shuttle’s here!” her husband called.
She thanked the clerk and hurried back to her family.
Mike entered the lobby as the family struggled toward the door—four children and a mountain of luggage, including one suitcase with a broken wheel. The older boy tried to balance the damaged suitcase on top of another rolling bag.
“Need some help?” Mike asked.
The boy nodded.
Mike tucked the broken suitcase under his arm, placed the remaining two rolling bags back-to-back, and grasped their handles. “Lead the way.”
They moved toward the curved driveway where the shuttle idled. The mother held a toddler’s hand in each of hers while the father collapsed the stroller and handed it to the driver. The boys rejoined their parents as Mike deposited the luggage beside them.
The father looked up. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Mike replied. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“You have no idea,” the man said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” Mike glanced inside the shuttle, hoping to see Lauren. She and Pumpkin weren’t there.
He returned to the lobby and positioned himself against a wall with a clear view of both the reception desk and the entrance.
He checked his watch. The reservation for his rental car at the airport was for pickup at ten.
He and the dog would take the 9:30 shuttle to give him enough time to collect the car, locate a veterinarian to scan for a microchip, and still make the drive to Charleston in time for dinner, as promised.
He kept a vigilant eye on the lobby traffic. If anyone had been watching him, they might have wondered whether he was Secret Service. For all his diligence, he did not see Lauren.
Mike’s thoughts returned again and again to the crumpled gift bag outside his door. There had been no note. Wouldn’t she have written one?
He had labored over one to her. In the early hours of the morning, he’d composed it carefully.
Lauren & Pumpkin,
Thank you for your kindness to my canine buddy and me. We agree that you saved his life.
If you’d like to know whether he’s reunited with his family or becomes part of mine, give me a call or send me a text. I’d love to fill you in.
Mike Miller
He’d printed his phone number in precise, draftsman-like numbers. And added a postscript.
P.S. If this guy comes home with me, I’ve decided to call him Buddy.
He patted the back pocket of his jeans where he’d tucked both the bowl and the folded paper.
Mike checked his watch again. It was time.
He pushed away from the wall and headed toward the corridor.
As he passed the gift shop, the clerk looked up and smiled.
Mike stopped and stepped inside. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Did a good-looking brunette come in this morning to buy a dog pajama in that pattern?” He pointed to the display.
The clerk grinned. “She did.”
“She gave it to me,” Mike said, his pulse quickening. “I’d like to thank her, but I don’t have her name. Would it be on the credit card receipt?”
The clerk’s smile faded. “We weren’t open yet. I didn’t ring her up. She took it to the front desk.”
Mike nodded.
“They’ll know her name,” the clerk continued, “but they won’t give it to you.
We protect guest confidentiality.” She studied him for a moment, her expression softening.
“If this were a movie from the thirties,” she said quietly, “I’d slip you the information.
I have a feeling it would lead to a happy ending.
But things are different now. I’m sorry. ”
Mike thanked her and continued down the hall. Two housekeeping carts sat outside open doors near the far end. One of those rooms could have been Lauren’s. A housekeeper stepped back to her cart.
“Excuse me,” he said, approaching her. “Have the guests in both of these rooms checked out?”
She nodded.
“This may sound strange,” he said, “but was there a dog in the room you’re cleaning?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
He swallowed.
“But in that one,” she added, pointing to the other room, “yes.”
His heart kicked. “Do you know when they checked out?”
“Very early,” she said.
Mike stood still for a moment. Lauren and Pumpkin must have been that early departure. It was time to abandon his infatuation with the mystery woman and her dog. Some things weren’t meant to be. He returned to his room.
The golden dog bounded toward him as if he’d been gone for days.
Mike gave the irrepressible creature a vigorous rub down. He switched on the television and checked out of his room by following the prompts on the screen. He scooped up his backpack, looked down at the dog, and exhaled slowly. “Looks like it’s just you and me, buddy.”
They exited the hotel using the parking lot door and walked along the exterior of the building, avoiding the lobby. The shuttle waited at the curb as they rounded the corner to the front of the hotel.
Mike took the last remaining spot at the back of the shuttle. The dog settled at his feet. Mike lowered himself into his seat, then quickly stood. He removed Pumpkin’s bowl from his back pocket. “Stay,” he commanded, not knowing if the dog would obey.
The golden remained in place.
Mike hurried down the aisle to the shuttle driver. “Does the hotel have a lost and found?”
The driver nodded. “At the front desk, but we’re leaving now. You don’t have time to get in there and back.” She called to a bellman who stepped up into the shuttle. “Would you please put this in the lost and found?”
“Sure,” he said, extending his hand to Mike.
“Thank you,” Mike said, handing over the bowl and his note with a twinge of regret. It was irrational to hope that this bowl would somehow reconnect him with Lauren. She’d been a pleasant interlude, and nothing more.
“On second thought”—Mike quickly said as he handed the bellman a five-dollar bill—“keep the note, but, the bowl? I think that is something I need to keep.”