Because party girl’s body had been drained of blood.
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.”
