My Hotel Peculiar
I knew from the first moment I saw her.
She’s the one. The one I want.
She was walking through the park behind our home, wearing a pink dress and matching ribbon in her hair. Shiny blonde hair, almost white. My own little angel.
It was a Sunday, almost lunch time. I guessed she was walking home after church. She carried a sack, maybe picking up something for her mother. Milk or butter for family dinner.
I glanced around, torn between my longing to touch her and fear that someone would see.
But she was following the pebbled path, and soon she would pass by a thatch of high shrubs. Hurrying up the path from the rear gate, I positioned myself behind the bushes.
I swallowed my nerves and looked back and forth. I couldn’t see any people.
So that meant they couldn’t see me.
Heart throbbing in my throat, I waited. Soon I heard her footsteps, quick and light.
When she came into view, I stepped forward. “Hi,” I said, my smile bright and my voice playful. “Going shopping?” It was the first thing I could think of to ask.
She shook her head. “I’m finished shopping.”
“Did you buy chocolate?” I ask, crossing my fingers behind my leg, hoping she hadn’t.
“No. Only eggs.” She made a curious face. “I don’t know you.”
I told her my name and gestured to the towering roof of Maison Marteau. “That’s where I live,” I told her.
Her eyes widened. “You live there? It’s like a castle.”
Inside, I felt proud, but I only shrugged. “My family makes Marteau chocolate. We have so much of it, we sometimes have to give it away.”
She looks down at her grocery bag then back to me. “You give it away.”
“Yes, but only to people who like chocolate.” I nodded but said nothing more. Let her ask. Please, let her ask. Let her think it was her idea.
She pressed her lips together as if thinking. Then, in a small, soft voice, she said, “I like chocolate.”
“I can give you some. It’s just inside.” She looks down the path, uncertain. “It won’t take a minute, then you can take home a surprise for your mother.”
Then it was her turn to shrug. “Okay. But I have to hurry.”
I tossed another glance around the park. Only an old man with his dog were in my line of sight, and he was looking at the ground.
“Follow me,” I said, hurrying down the path. I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t want you to be late,” I told her, though that wasn’t the real reason I was in such a rush.
I was actually doing it. I was taking her inside.
And I couldn’t let anyone see us together.
We slipped through the back gate and then into a door near the kitchen. My whole head pounded as we walked to the elevator, as if my heart had moved to the inside of my brain.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“We keep the chocolate cool in the cellar. It lasts longer that way.”
She nodded, but her forehead pulled into a wrinkle. The door opened, and she looked both ways down the hall.
I did, too.
No one was there.
Another moment. I held my breath, and then she stepped inside.
Down, down, down, we rode, the tiny wrinkle fixed firmly between her pale eyebrows.
When the elevator door opened again, cold, musty air rushed inside. The tunnel before us was dark, only the interior light from the small cab shining on the stone walls.
“This is your cellar?” she asked, backing up in the elevator. She started shaking her head. “I don’t want to go in there. It’s too dark.”
“Don’t you want the chocolate?” I asked, my gaze moving between the girl and the tunnel. We were almost there.
“No. I want to go back up.”
The door started to close again, but I jabbed the button. “Come on. It won’t take long.”
“No.” Her eyes were wide and frightened. She wasn’t going to budge.
That’s when I fell on her, grabbing her arms and pulling her out.
She yelled and dragged her feet, but her Sunday shoes slid easily on the floor.
Another jerk, and she flew from the elevator, landing in a pile on the dirty ground.
Stunned, she stared up at me. And then she started to wail—high, piercing cries that echoed through the catacombs.
“Be quiet,” I shouted, angry that my plan was failing. I wanted to take her to the room. I wanted her to lie still. I wanted her to smile at me.
Everything was going wrong.
“Let me out!” She tried to stand, but one arm was caught up in the handle of her shopping bag. I lunged at her, throwing myself on top of her. I pressed my hand over her mouth, but she wouldn’t stop screaming.
I lifted her head. Rammed her back down. Again. Again.
Her eyes closed and her cries fell quiet.
I was breathing hard and suddenly so tired. So drained.
As I stared down at the lovely blonde girl, a shadow fell across us both. Before I could look up, my father spoke.
“What have you done?”