“Yes, a week at a minimum. You mentioned that you might be able to extend the stay if needed?” At least that was what she said when I booked it.
Aarabelle also asked me to meet with another client who is local to this area, Penelope Walker, who is launching a rebrand of her interior design company.
I’m not sure how long things are going to take. I don’t expect these assignments to need more than a week. Therefore, I plan to blow them away and for these clients to be absolutely impressed with my professionalism and ability to get things done quickly. They’ll immediately tell Brynlee and Thea that I’m a delight and they want to work with me exclusively.
I doubt that’s going to happen, but hope is never a bad thing.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Sure, Dempsey, I can do that. Strange name to give a girl,” she mutters, digging in a drawer. I don’t correct her because that is a conversation I don’t need to have right now. She hands me a key. “Here you are, dear. Just head up the stairs on the right.”
Since there’s only one set of stairs here and there’s no clear path to them, this should be fun. I somehow manage to navigate myself to the stairs, climbing over and under more pieces of furniture and knickknacks than I can name, and get my bag upstairs.
This place is…old.
There is a dresser that could be from the 1800s with paint peeling off the front. There is a twin bed in the middle of two windows that the center looks like it’s touching the floor as it sinks—great. And the room has a strange musty smell to it.
I place my bag on the bed, which squeaks very loudly, and walk over to find the bathroom area.
Oh my God. It’s pink.
Like bright pink tiles everywhere. The tub is pink. The floor is pink. The countertop is…yup, pink.
I didn’t even know you could have a bubblegum pink toilet, but here it is.
And that musty smell from the bedroom? It’s stronger in here.
Great.
Suddenly, I’m hoping I can get this job done even faster because staying here is going to be a freaking nightmare.
However, I can do it. I’ve endured some really difficult things in my life, and I’ll manage this one.
Instead of standing here, surveying the uninspiring living conditions for the next week, I decide to head out and get a drink and some food.
My stomach rumbles and I sigh, thankful that there’s a bar and grill just down the road.
After escaping my antique living quarters, I walk down the street, noticing more of the shops and that the coffee shop also has breakfast, where I know where I’ll be each morning. Once I make it to the bar and step inside, it’s exactly like I imagined. Its wood-paneled walls are decorated with various photos and neon lights , the floor is covered in black-and-white checkered tiles that are more brown now than either color, and there’s a large square bar in the center.
I find an empty seat between two groups and squeeze my way in.
“Hello there,” the bartender says as I settle onto my stool. “What can I get you?”
“Hi. Can I get a whiskey sour, please?” I ask.
“Sure thing. Are you new here?” he asks as he walks over to grab a glass and start pouring.
“Yes, I’m visiting for work.”
He nods. “In Ember Falls? What kind of work do you do?”
“Consulting,” I explain, which isn’t true, but since I don’t know anything about what the client needs, that seems like a perfectly good cover story.
He finishes the drink and sets it down. “Well, lots of folks around here probably need that.”
I smile. “Good to know. I’m always looking to expand my reach. Are you guys still serving food?”
The bartender nods. “Kitchen is open until ten. Would you like to see a menu?”
