A few more tentative steps passed the end of Gliden and into the light of a Martings display window. See, there was nothing between those two . . .
Then she saw it. A small building nestled in the morning shadow of the retail giants. A rough and crudely carved sign hung above the door.
The Manor.
Corina stepped back to survey the establishment from the curb. But there wasn’t much to see. Just the front of the inn, which was nothing more than a door and a large, single-paned window filled with a soft yellow light.
Adjusting her tired grip on her suitcases, Corina moved forward and tried the door, snatching back her hand when it yielded with a squeak. She pressed on inside, dragging her suitcases over the threshold. “Hello?”
The small lobby consisted of a sitting area, a stone fireplace, and a vacant reception desk. The wide board floor matched the dry wood of the fireplace mantel—dark and worn, without any gloss or sheen.
A piquant, cheerful woman with white hair floating above her heart-shaped face appeared behind the narrow registration desk. “Well, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
“Changed my mind? I’m sorry, but I don’t have a reservation. I’m—”
“Corina Del Rey. Yes, yes, we know. Come on in. Don’t hover by the door.” She came around the desk, hand extended for Corina’s large suitcase. She wore a white peasant blouse and a black skirt with a laced tunic overlay.
“You know? Who knows what? And h–how do you know?”
The woman offered a sweet, bow smile, which weakened Corina’s defenses. “We have your room all ready. Lovely it is too. On the fifth floor with a grand view of the city. Quite stunning, I says.” She crossed her hands over her heart and sighed. “My favorite place on earth. I hope you don’t mind the stairs. We’ve no lift. Or elevator, as you say in America.”
“The clerk . . . at The Wellington . . . Did he called you?” How nice of him. And surprising, since he didn’t seem all that eager to help. But what other explanation could there be?
“The Wellington? No, no one from The Wellington called.” The woman snickered, covering her mouth with her delicate hand. “I really must walk round and see the city close up. I’ve not been here in quite a while. Now, shall I take you to your room?”
She was crazy. Certifiable. “Listen, I appreciate your cozy little establishment, but I think I’ll try the Royal Astor.” Or maybe a park bench. Surely there was one with Corina’s name on it.
But the eccentric hostess paid no attention. She snapped her fingers and twisted her lips, pointing to a closed door beside the fireplace. “I always forget this part.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Brill! Come for the luggage, eh, my good man? She’s here.”
No, nada, not doing this. The Manor was just too weird. Out there. Maybe Cathedral City’s Hotel California. Corina stepped back once. But why did she feel peace? At home in the light and the space?
A drop of perspiration slithered down her temple. “Know what?” she said with a raspy croak. “I just realized I have a place to stay.” She reached for the large suitcase, but the woman did not let go.
“My name’s Adelaide.” She offered her hand. “Please, don’t go.” Her tone canceled Corina’s rising fear.
“All right . . .” Corina took the woman’s hand in hers with a light shake. “I–is this place on Cathedral City’s hotel register?” She didn’t know what else to ask for proof of the hotel’s validity other than to see their city license. Which felt slightly insulting. If the woman said yes, then she could exhale, relax. Enjoy this quaint, out of the way, back-in-time hovel.
“My dear lass, we were the first inn built in Cathedral City. By King Stephen I himself.” Adelaide puffed out her chest. “Fifteen fifty-five.”
“Fifteen fifty-five?” Four hundred and fifty years ago? Ah, realization dawned. This must be publicity for the movie. Surely. Which explained Adelaide’s costume. And the lady in white. An actress trolling the streets looking for confused tourists to send here. Corina took a sly gaze about the room, hunting for hidden cameras.
“But never you worry. The place has been fixed up. Modernized, if you will. Save for the adding of a lift. But we got Brill. Ha. He’s our lifter. Brill!”
“Here, here. Where’s the girl?” A tall, big-boned man with a jocular face and thin, greying, curly tufts of hair squeezed through the side door, entering the lobby. “There she is. Well, how do you like that? Fit and pretty. None worse for the wear. How’s the girl a-doing? What say you of this place?”
“F–fine.” Corina’s thoughts were on a crash course with her emotions, debating to the quick rhythm of her heart. Run-stay-run-stay. But this Brill? She liked him. Felt drawn to him as if she’d known him her whole life.
“Stop badgering her, Brill, and leave her be. She needs her rest.”
“Then let’s get her settled.” Brill picked up the large suitcase and nodded toward the stairs. “Ladies first.”
“Adelaide? Brill?” Strange how their names rolled off Corina’s tongue so easily. Like she’d said them a thousand times. “Howdidyou know I’d be coming?”
“It’s our job to know.” The twinkle in Adelaide’s eyes bloomed as if God had created them from stars.
“Your job?”
“Come, love, we’ve plenty of time to chat after you’ve rested.” Adelaide took hold of the smaller roller board, a thick gold chain with a gold medallion swinging out from under the pale purple tunic.
