“I’ll skip the off-road vehicle. I can take care of it from here.” I reach for the luggage, preparing to get a handle on all of it. The idea of asking anyone to help me get inside a building makes my skin crawl. I can handle this without inconveniencing anyone.
“Suit yourself. Have a good one,” he says, his face kind but full of speculation.
As the car pulls away, I stare up at the hill, and down at my Manolo Blahnik pumps.
I love these heels. Yes, they’re Manolo Blahniks but they’re also a celebration purchase. I bought these, after careful deliberation and research, to recognize a substantial merit raise. They’re a symbol of my stubbornness—Jack pointed out, passive-aggressively, how ridiculous it was to spend so much on a “basic pair of shoes.”
He teased me every time I wore them, pulling at the lightness and pride I had when thinking about being able to do something like this for myself. To finally afford something like this, even if it was a one-off purchase, made me feel accomplished. My internal reaction outweighed Jack’s poking fun. I can’t scuff these heels. I’m sure I can make it to the lobby—it might be slow but I’ll get there.
In the first minute, it’s clear I’ve made a mistake. Hell, it was probably less than that. There’s a sidewalk but it rolls with the hill, making it difficult not to trip. It feels like I’m pulling a car behind me. My luggage is awkward and remarkably heavy. The incline is a nightmare.
My heels snapping onto the stone are met with sounds of birds and rustling tree branches. I don’t hear or see anyone else. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and my breath is becoming louder than I ever approve of in public. I stop and take a short break, trying to get myself together. My legs are burning in protest like they do when I choose a Tunde Oyeneyin ride on my Peloton.
Finally, I see glass doors and a “Welcome to The Emerald Canopy Lodge” sign. My shoulders slump in relief knowing the end is in sight. I look down and focus on the pavement and make quick work of the rest of the walk. The automatic doors swoosh open. My legs are unsure about getting into the lobby.
“Goodness. You didn’t make that walk in those shoes, did ya?” Caught off guard, mostly trying to remember a time when I could breathe, I find a woman at the front desk, wearing a green sweater and what looks to be a pine cone brooch. She has white hair sleekly pulled back in a bun.
“I certainly did. I’m here to check in. The name is Ivy Lawson.” I do my best not to breathe too loud in the quiet space.
“What a pretty name, Ivy. I’m Beatrice but everyone calls me Bea.” She points at a name tag underneath her brooch. “You know someone would’ve picked you up at the drop-off so you didn’t have to haul all that luggage up?
In my twenty-six years at the lodge, I’ve never seen someone trek that hill in shoes like that.” Her eyes crinkle with her giggle.
“Thanks for the tip, Bea. I made it just fine.” Trying to convince myself and anyone else in this lobby that my statement is true. Luckily, most people aren’t paying attention to me and my bald-faced lie.
“If you call huffing and puffing in those stilt-like high heels fine, then I guess you’re right, Ivy Lawson.” She laughs as she checks me in.
I look around the lobby and am reminded I’m not at a high-end hotel. Missing is the bustling of hotel employees zipping through the lobby, loading luggage on carts, offering bottles of water, and mentioning the spa down the hallway. I long for a spa down the hallway.
The open space greets me with soft quiet. There are a few people in the sitting area, but they seem to be content gazing out the towering windows, an abundance of trees, mountain views, and lakes in the distance. Everything is so green here: the paint, the views, Bea’s sweater.
The smell of coffee makes my mouth water. I haven’t had any yet and I’m itching to get my hand on a cup. Or a carafe.
“I see you’re here for the Bliss4ful event. You’ll find a welcome gift in your room with a map, agenda, and notes. Quite fancy. This group… Are you here with Jack Wright? I see him on the same reservation.”
“Jack isn’t here. He was supposed to cancel that room. His head must have been… elsewhere.” I screen my insult and paint a fake smile on my lips. Bea looks like she might pass out over her pine cone brooch if I said what I wanted to.
“You won’t be able to get a refund for that room, Miss Ivy.” It’s clear Bea has done her fair share of fighting with customers over this very issue.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a business trip.” I try to reassure her and wipe sweat from my brow at the same time.
“Whew! Okay. Your room is on the sixth floor and you’ll want to take the elevator, not the stairs.” Beatrice smirks as she peeks at my choice of footwear for emphasis.
“Great idea,” I respond, thankful I don’t have to walk six flights of stairs in these heels. “Quick question, my company sent a few boxes directly for the event. I’ve checked the shipping information and it shows they were signed for and delivered. Where can I get those?”
“Can’t imagine you carrying anything else, especially in those spiky shoes, so it’s a good thing you sent them. Let me take a look.” She laughs at me, again, but it’s genuine. She thinks my shoes are hilarious.
“I confirm we’ve accepted packages for your company. They’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning at your designated table. Now getting you to your room, I’ll call someone to help with your bags. The elevator is down at the end of the hallway. It’s a bit of a trek,” she says as she picks up the phone and puts it to her ear.
“No, no, no. That won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can manage. The walk is quite flat, yes?” I joke with Bea before she can finish dialing the number. “Of course it’s flat, but I insist. It’ll give them something to do,” she retorts, not getting my joke.
Arguing with Bea would be more of an inconvenience than letting them take my bags. I keep my personal bag but leave the others. I won’t need them until tomorrow anyways. “Thanks for your help.”
Almost to the elevator, I turn and give Bea a smile, as my Manolo Blahniks click-clack on the tile floor.
The room isn’t what I expected, which was lots of log cabin wood, flannel, scratchy blankets, and a stale smell. With deep blues and beige, it feels soothing, with a minimalistic but modern vibe. Expansive windows overlook the main grounds and even give glimpses of the water and mountains in the distance.
When I get a few more steps in, it kind of smells like the outside. It’s hard to put my fingers on it, until I see the fresh eucalyptus in the shower and cut flowers on the console table. The flowers are stunning. I can’t help but dip my nose into them and breathe in. I’m not one for plants but I’m a sucker for flowers. They sit on top of a handwritten welcome note sayingthese were picked from the lodge’s garden. Precious. I wonder if Bea writes these little notes.
