Chapter 11 #2
Puddle’s whines persisted for seven seconds while Michelle went down the hallway, and then Michelle heard the sound of Puddle starting to gnaw on one of her plastic bones.
It was a chew toy, and it let off a high-pitched squeal a moment later.
Chuckling, Michelle grabbed her snack and coffee and sat down behind the front desk of The Birchwood House.
She opened the laptop and gasped in alarm.
She had seventeen unread emails. Two of them looked as though they were simply advertisements from other businesses, but the majority of them were from past or future guests.
She saw the subject lines, “Looking to Extend Stay” and “Payment Issues—Please Respond ASAP” and gulped.
She was just about to start opening the first email when she noticed a red flashing light to her left. The Birchwood House’s voicemail was blinking, and when Michelle checked the screen she saw that they had eight new voicemails.
Today of all days, she thought with a groan. This feels like a sitcom. Where’s the laugh track? The second I’m here by myself, everyone decides that today’s the day the hotel needs to be unusually busy?
She clicked on the first voicemail, getting a notebook and pencil ready so that she could jot down the information she was about to hear.
She didn’t get a chance to, however, because at that moment, the front door opened, and a family of five tumbled into the front hallway.
“Good morning! Merry Christmas!” bellowed the father, who had a big red beard and looked exactly like a lumberjack who’d ditched his red flannel and bundled himself up in a peacoat instead. “Where are our rooms?”
Michelle froze and her mind started to race.
Check-in didn’t start for another few hours, but usually when people arrived early, they tried to accommodate them.
She could show them to their rooms—but what were their rooms?
The violet room and the mint room—but had those guests left already?
She would need to clean their rooms if they had, and that would take her at least a half hour per room, if she cut corners and just cleaned everything that was visibly dirty.
She was just starting to panic when she remembered that the tiger lily room and the rose room had been vacated the night before and she’d had the foresight to clean those rooms early in an effort to get ahead.
It was part of why she felt so especially tired that day, but in that moment, she felt incredibly grateful toward her past self.
Since the guests hadn’t reserved specific rooms, she could put them in different rooms than she’d originally intended to and they wouldn’t even realize there had been a switch.
“Certainly,” she said, standing up and putting on her best professional smile. “If you’ll just follow me, I can—”
At that moment, the front door opened again, and in came a couple who looked as though they were freezing. They were bundled up in parkas and hats, scarves, and gloves, and the woman was shivering.
“Good morning,” said the woman. “Could we please have our room? I know we’re early, but we’re from Florida, and this cold is really brutal.”
Michelle’s mouth popped open. It was warmer that day than it had been all week, and the ocean generally kept the temperature from ever becoming too frigid. She didn’t know what to say, and her pause lasted long enough that the lumberjack man in the peacoat decided to talk for her.
“Well, you’re safe and warm now! Doesn’t matter that you’re early—we’re getting our rooms right away. What a place this is.”
Michelle wanted to let out a squeak of alarm, but she held herself together. It did matter that they were early—she had two rooms ready to go, but not three. Now instead of a blessed solution, she had an awkward dilemma on her hands.
She cleared her throat, wondering what to say. For a brief moment, she had a wild impulse to stand up and walk down the hallway, away from the embarrassing situation in front of her.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have three rooms ready at the moment,” she said.
“Generally, our policy doesn’t allow guests to check in before three p.m. We’re happy to accommodate you whenever possible, but in this instance, we don’t have all three rooms ready to go.
I’d need at least half an hour to get the final room ready.
” She glanced down at the email inbox and wanted to groan as she wondered how much more behind on her work she was going to get before the next hour was over.
The cold couple looked at each other in dismay. It was clear they wanted to settle in and get warm, and that having to wait in the parlor of the hotel wasn’t what they’d been hoping for when they arrived early.
Mercifully, the wife of the lumberjack swooped in to the rescue. She looked at Michelle’s face, and then at the faces of the couple bundled up in parkas, and seemed to grasp the situation in an instant.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Our kids are in their messy stages. Our youngest will be staying in me and my husband’s room with us, but we’ve got a preteen and an eight-year-old who will be in the same room together.
They won’t break anything, I promise, but I can guarantee you that when we leave here there’s going to be toothpaste on your counter and crumbs in the bed and at least one lost sock left behind a piece of furniture somewhere.
I always feel bad leaving so much mess behind when we leave a hotel.
How about you just give my husband and I one of the clean rooms, and we can give the other clean room to these folks here?
Then I can just change the sheets myself for the kids’ room if you give me a clean set, and I won’t feel so bad about you having to clean up after my kids when we leave. ”
Michelle wanted to cry. She could tell that this woman was being kind and simply trying to make it seem as though Michelle would be doing her a favor. She felt incredibly lucky that someone so kind and gracious had come along and been a part of the mishap.
“That sounds wonderful.” Michelle stood up. “But I can change the sheets—”
“We can do them together.” The woman smiled.
Michelle nodded, beaming at the woman. “Well, that’s a plan then.
” All at once, the guests felt like family instead of strangers she was anxious to impress.
“Let’s get on upstairs and I’ll show you to your rooms. Then I’ll return in just a minute with clean sheets and a welcome basket for the kids’ room. ”
She led the guests upstairs, and got the cold couple settled in the tiger lily room first. She heard the woman start talking excitedly about taking a hot bubble bath as soon as the door closed. Michelle chuckled and continued on down the hallway, leading the other guests to where their rooms were.
Once the family was settled, she hurried back down the stairs to get a clean set of sheets and a welcome basket for the kids’ room.
She stopped by the kitchen and threw a few extra granola bars and a bar of chocolate into the welcome basket.
They were being so kind, she wanted to be extra kind to them too.
“These rooms are just wonderful,” the woman said to Michelle as they started putting fresh sheets on the bed in the kids’ room together. “So charming and inviting.”
“So cozy!” piped up the preteen, who was sitting in the armchair, snuggled under a blanket already. “I could read here for hours.”
Michelle chuckled. “I’m so glad. If you need any extra blankets, there are some in a cupboard in the hallway. And if you need anything at all, please just let me know.”
For a moment, she had a vision of herself trying to manage requests from every guest in the hotel all at once and she inhaled, reminding herself that nothing of the kind was going to happen.
I’ve survived the first hour, she joked to herself. Maybe it’ll all be downhill from here.
She showed the family how to work the remote for the Christmas trees, and the kids were practically squealing with glee over it. Laughing, Michelle left them to their fun and made her way downstairs.
Her coffee was still resting on the desk, but it was cold. She was grateful for it regardless, and gulped half the mug down right away. Sighing and shaking her head, she sat down in front of her laptop and started making her way through the unread emails.
She’d finished replying to three of them—her fingers typing at lightning speed—when she realized she hadn’t listened to the voicemails yet.
She got her notebook and pencil ready again and hit play on the first voicemail.
It was a short and sweet voicemail from a family that had just left, talking about how much they’d loved their stay.
Michelle smiled and saved the voicemail, feeling excited to share it with Audrey and Elaine when they got back.
She started to play the next one, tapping her fingers against the desk in her impatience to get through all of the work she had to do.
She felt a sense of urgency, as if all the people who had called and emailed were standing in front of her, clamoring to be heard.
Her eyes widened when she heard the voice of an elderly woman who was speaking at a snail-like tempo.
Michelle leaned forward, tapping her fingers faster, as if that could make the woman’s message start going faster.
The old woman rambled on and on about the last time she’d been to Coral Sands and what a great time it had been.
Michelle was scrunching up her face in frustration by the time the woman finally stated that she was hoping to visit The Birchwood House in January and she wondered if they had any rooms available.
Michelle heaved a sigh of relief as the message ended, and she jotted down a note to call—no, email the woman back and let her know that they had rooms available in January.
I feel bad, she thought with a wince. But if the voicemail was that long, heaven knows how long a phone call would be. I’ll call her later today once I’ve gotten everything under control, but I’ll email her right away.