The Roche Hotel (Sweet Romantic Comedy): Season Two

by Mysti Parker

  I sit by Mom and unwrap her sausage biscuit. “Morning. Want some juice?”

  “That would be nice, dear. Did you bring Nicky?”

  Here we go again. “No, Mom. Nick’s not with me anymore.”

  Mom taps her bottom lip, looking from Henry to Julius. “That’s Henry, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and he’s…” Julius prompts her to continue.

  Mom smiles brightly. “Your grandson! And he’s dating Jane.” She squeezes my hand. “Lucky girl.”

  “That’s right, Mom. I am lucky.”

  Something sparkles on her hand—a shiny gold band with a small diamond in the center.

  “Jane, we have something to tell you,” Mom says. “Julius asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Congratulations!” Henry slaps Julius on the back. “We’re so happy for you.”

  “Excuse me.” I grab my coffee and flee into the lobby.

  Henry follows a minute later. “Are you OK?”

  “No—they’re getting married! How’s he going to take care of her? When she lived with me, she almost caused a pile-up from walking naked in the street! She needs full-time supervision.”

  “Grandpa knows that.”

  “Does he, really?”

  “Yeah, he’s giving me his house and moving in here permanently to be with her. They’ll live in a couple’s room. Of course, you’d know all this if you hadn’t run out in a huff and stayed to listen instead.”

  “He’s only known her a few months. How can he be so committed to her already?”

  Henry crosses his arms. “Same way I’m already committed to you. Or is that too hard for you to believe?”

  I take a gulp of coffee to avoid telling him the truth.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you’re that scared to be with me, then maybe you should run back to Nick. You can take his Mercedes and all the other things that I can’t give you.”

  “Seriously? You think I’m that shallow?”

  “I don’t know what to think right now. I’m going to play bingo. Do whatever you want.” He returns to the dining room, while I wait for him in the car. It’s one really long, quiet ride back to my apartment.

  ****

  I pull into work at 3:15 pm, wishing I’d have called in sick. I haven’t had eyes this puffy since the day Nick left me. Lo and behold, there he is in the lobby with Harry Prince, the rotund Irishman we mistook for a royal.

  Harry holds a clipboard and a ballpoint pen. “What, pray tell, do you have that will draw business?”

  “We have a ghost!” Nick says.

  “A ghost, ooo, I’m shaking in my knickers. You think a ghost is enough to turn this money trap into a three-star establishment?” He stabs the air, pointing toward the breakfast area. “What I see here is a ridiculous hodgepodge of décor, mildew in the bathtubs, cobwebs on the ceiling, and a ragtag bunch of misfits for employees. I’ll help you with the rest of it, but you’ve got to have a draw—something big to offer your clientele or this place is doomed.”

  I escape into the office, hoping to be as invisible as our ghost.

  No such luck. Nick comes in right behind me. “Jane, thank God you’re here.”

  Keeping my back to him, I wipe my nose and sigh. “What now?”

  “Mr. Prince hosts a TV show called Hotel No-No. I thought it would be a good idea to hit him up for an episode, but he’s a lot more intense than I counted on.”

  “Ask Richard and Susan. I’ve got work to do.”

  “They’re out for the afternoon. I really want to make this work.” That’s Nickese for ‘I’ve screwed up big time and want to cover my butt’.

  I plop down in the desk chair. “You’re Super Manager. Figure it out.”

  “Have you been crying?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Pot, meet kettle.”

  He sits on the desk, entirely too close for my comfort. “I know it’s been hard on you since I left.”

  “Don’t think so highly of yourself. It’s not you.”

  “Then…” His predatory grin emerges. “You had a fight with the Donut Guy, didn’t you?”

  Was that what it was—a fight? No, it was mostly me being paranoid, and him getting tired of it. I still don’t know if Mom getting married again will be a disaster, but Henry’s right. They deserve to be happy, and I can’t deny them that.

  “Let’s go get a drink later,” Nick says, tapping the end of my nose like he used to when he was trying to be cute. “Just you and me, and tequila makes three.”

  I roll beyond his reach, happy that I have no desire to cry on Nick’s shoulder, but even happier that I have a brilliant idea for the hotel’s TV debut.

  “I have a better idea, Mr. Seymour. Let’s host a wedding. A sweet ceremony for two people who deserve a second chance at love.”

  Nick runs a hand through his hair and winks. “I can still fit into my tux.”

  “Like I’d be dumb enough to marry you twice. Mom’s getting married to Henry’s grandpa, and what better place to host it than at The Roche Hotel?”

  Episode 20

  All I Want for Christmas is…What?!

  For two weeks after my brilliant idea first took flight, Harry Prince and his Hotel No-No team add their spit shine to the hotel. Two rooms are being combined into one large honeymoon suite. This involves days of hammering, painting, crowbarring and cleaning things that haven’t been touched in thirty years. It also involves Harry Prince cursing a lot and throwing things.

  “Adds to the dramatic effect,” Nick says, but even he winces now and then from the words that will be translated into a chorus of beeps when the episode airs.

  Poor Mrs. Gonsalves becomes more unstable with all the added work.

  Nick and I watch from the front desk while Harry Prince films a ‘cozy’ scene in the breakfast area with Richard and Susan.

  He sits across from them, looking very stern. “Your hotel’s cleanliness is dependent upon a woman who’s not all there. She claims there’s a ghost helping her fold linens, when it’s most likely your bored front desk clerks or that ape of a maintenance man. She pushes a carpet sweeper around all day, talking to herself. It’s like the wheel’s turning, but the hamster is dead. Meanwhile, you’ve got neglected toilets and crumbs on the tables.”

  “I see,” Richard says, wearing a deep frown. “But, she’s been with The Roche for a number of years.”

  Susan’s eyes are big and round, caught in the headlights of the TV host’s forthrightness. “Richie, he’s an expert. Tell us what to do, Mr. Prince.”

  “I’m bringing in reinforcements.”

  The front door opens, cameras zoom in, and in step two young women in housekeeping uniforms. They both hold buckets of cleaning supplies and mops over their shoulders like rifles.

  “Sheila and Mel here will assist Mrs. Gonsalves with cleaning. I’ve paid their salary for a month. It’s up to you to take over after that.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Susan says, clapping.

  Mrs. Gonsalves emerges from the office, where she’s been scooting her carpet sweeper for the last hour. Her eyes are wild. With fists at her sides, she stomps right up to Harry Prince, points her finger at his face, and says, “Hombre gordo horrible!”

  “What does that mean?” Nick whispers to me.

  “She called him a horrible fat man. This may mean war.”

  Mr. Prince stands up from his chair, evening the playing field a bit, since he and Mrs. Gonsalves are of equal height. The cameras hone in on a lovely scene in which she screams Spanish profanity at him, while he screams English nastiness right back.

  “Will all that have to be beeped out?” Susan wonders, hand covering her mouth in shock. “Or just the English parts?”

  “I have no idea, darling,” Richard says. “Let’s just hope Mr. Seymour hasn’t done us in this time.” He glares at Nick, who pretends to not notice. But he’s sweating a lot these days, and I’m pretty sure I caught hi
m browsing the classifieds once or twice. Maybe Santa will grant me my Christmas wish of getting Nick out of my hair for good.

  ****

  December 20 arrives with a chilly breeze and snow flurries. Christmas décor adds festive lights and color to hotel—perfect for a holiday wedding. Harry Prince and his TV crew wait with Nick and Richard on the sidewalk as we pull up in the limo. On her lap, Mom holds a bouquet of white lilies and green holly with bright red berries.

  She smiles out the window. “Where’s Julius?”

  “He’s waiting for you inside.”

  “We’re getting married.”

  “I know, and you look beautiful.”

  She really does, thanks to my soon-to-be stepfather. Julius Hermann, despite his simple lifestyle, is quite wealthy. He had gowns made for both of us. Mom actually requested Tudor designs, on behalf of Henry and me. Her gown is silk with a full-skirt, a low, square neckline, white on the sides and a center panel of silvery grey, embroidered with a lattice pattern of iridescent beads. It fits perfectly. My dress is a similar design of all grey silk.

  “Jane, you’re gorgeous,” Mom says. “I wish you and Nicky would renew your vows.”

  “No, today’s your day, Mom. Besides, Henry wouldn’t like that very much.”

  She giggles. “I’m joking, silly girl. I know you’re with Henry now. I like him. He’s sweet and handsome like Julius.”

  My cheeks grow warm. “Yes, he is.” I don’t relish the idea of having cameras in our faces for Mom’s wedding, but she’s happy, and her mind is sharp today. I also can’t wait to see Henry in a tux.

  Unfortunately, he’s given me the cold shoulder ever since my paranoid breakdown when we first learned Mom and Julius were engaged. Even my wedding idea hasn’t thawed his cool attitude. Apart from some Christmas and wedding shopping on my days off, we haven’t spent the night together or even shared take-out from Golden Wok. We’ve barely even touched except for a quick peck and a, “See ya.”

  I’d have gone through several dozen donuts by now were it not for the trauma of Henry’s former fiancée snapping pictures of my ‘fat’ underwear. Plus, I had to make sure I didn’t bust the seams of this dress for Mom’s wedding. Without comfort carbs and Henry, it’s been a miserable two weeks.

  I don’t want to get married anytime soon, but I know I don’t want to lose Henry. He and his donuts have helped me survive The Roche Hotel and all its weirdness. He’s also a good kisser and good at…other things. It’s more than physical attraction, though. Where Nick once occupied my brain space, it’s Henry who now monopolizes my thoughts from one graveyard shift to the next. I feel a good cry coming on, but I have to keep my mascara intact until the wedding’s over.

  Harry Prince gestures for us to get out. Lights go up; a microphone dangles by his head like a fuzzy black carrot on a stick.

  “Ready, Mom?”

  “Ready,” she says.

  The driver opens our door and helps us exit the vehicle without tripping on our formal wear.

  “Mrs. Stevens,” Harry Prince booms in his Irish brogue, “we’ve worked extra hard to resurrect this decrepit hotel into a facility worthy of your nuptials. Are you ready to give Mr. Hermann your hand?”

  Mom blinks at him like she has no idea what he’s talking about. I’m about to speak for her, when she pats Harry’s cheek and laughs. “He can have both my hands, Mr. Prince. You’ve done a lovely job. Now, I’d like to go marry my man, if you don’t mind.”

  Wide-eyed, Harry turns to the camera and says, “Isn’t she a tart?” He gestures to Nick and Richard, who both rush over to hold open the doors. “Go get married, lass, and your newly renovated honeymoon suite is on me!”

  Mom’s cheeks turn red, but she nods graciously, takes my arm, and we step inside the lobby. It is quite amazing what Harry Prince has accomplished. Fresh paint, new carpet, new matching furniture everywhere. The lobby is decorated with Christmas trees trimmed in clear lights and white gauze ribbons like the small veil on Mom’s hat. The Muzak even cooperates by playing classical holiday music at an appropriate volume.

  The tables have been removed from the breakfast area, leaving chairs on two sides and an “aisle” down the middle. Our staff, along with Henry’s family and some assorted friends, are all seated. They turn to watch as we make our way toward the minister at the back counter. Julius is there, handsome in his tux and a great big smile. Henry’s beside him, looking even better than I had imagined.

  He smiles; I smile back. And along come the tears. So much for my mascara.

  ****

  The ceremony was quick and beautiful. We gather in the renovated conference room for the reception. Mom and Julius cut their cake, share some champagne, and open gifts while I help keep snacks and drinks refilled. I can’t stop staring at Jerry, though. Carol was right. He actually looks decent in a tux. Kind of like a well-groomed sasquatch who works out a lot.

  Henry’s quiet, sipping punch at a table by himself. He smiles at the happy couple, then looks down at his uneaten cake with a sigh. I can’t take it anymore. I set down the empty pretzel bowl and start to walk over.

  Then Nick steps in front of me and applies the smile he reserves for luring women into his web of charm. Luckily, I’m immune.

  “You look gorgeous, Jane,” he purrs.

  “Thanks, now if you’ll-”

  “I have a wedding present for your mom—a full week for her and Julius at a spa by the river. Complete with round-the-clock supervision.”

  “Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll take me back.”

  “How much have you been drinking?”

  “I’m serious. Let me take you out for one night on the town. Anywhere you want. You can have all the dessert.”

  “All the dessert? What’s that supposed to mean?” I suck in my stomach, wishing I’d have worn the Spanx after all. Nick tries to take my hand, but I bat at him like I’m shooing away a bee. “What are you doing? Stop it!”

  A petite woman with a very blonde, teased hairdo appears in the conference room doorway. Tiptoeing, her falsies blink as she scans the room. Finally, she locks onto someone and beams a pearly white smile.

  “Nicky!” She darts around tables as quickly as one can in a skin-tight red skirt and stilettos.

  “Brandy?” Nick stops trying to grab me and turns to catch her as she jumps into his arms. His face wrinkles in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Nicky!” she exclaims, smooching a trail of red lipstick stains all over his jaw and cheek. “I couldn’t stand it any longer. I missed you so much!”

  “But…”

  The guests stare and giggle, watching the reunion unfold over their punch. Mom and Julius are downright laughing. I can’t blame them—it’s like a corny dinner theater.

  “Let’s go talk. I have so much to tell you.” Brandy grabs his arm and pulls him toward the door.

  “But…” He looks over his shoulder at me as she drags him out. He’s probably hoping I’ll come to his rescue, but I just smile and wave bye-bye.

  Now that Nick’s occupied with his half-silicone girlfriend, I can finally go to Henry and tell him what I need to say.

  Taking a seat beside him, I decide to just blurt it out. “Henry, I—”

  The Muzak, which had been behaving nicely, decides to start blaring Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You.

  “What?!” Henry yells, putting a hand to his ear.

  “I said, I—”

  Mariah hits a high note which could shatter glass champagne flasks. Good thing we only have the plastic kind. Richard runs out, no doubt preparing for a showdown with his nemesis of a music machine. Guests press their hands to their ears, grimacing in pain. Another few seconds, and we’ll all be deaf, but I’m not about to let that high-pitched siren have the last word.

  I fill my lungs with a healthy dose of air. The Muzak squeals to a halt, but I’ve already screamed, “I LOVE YOU, HENRY!”

  My voice echo
es through the staring wedding party. I want to slide under the table and pretend I’m not here, but Henry takes my hand before I can melt into the new carpet.

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.” He chuckles. “Of course, I never thought the whole world would hear it, too.”

  I start to say something, but he puts his finger on my lips.

  “Save your voice.” He leans in and kisses me. Not just a peck, but a solid, warm, thank-God-we-are-finally-making-up kiss.

  The crowd goes wild.

  Notes from the Author:

  This romantic comedy series is based on my real life misadventures working at a little hotel in Louisville, KY back in 1997-98. It's burgeoned into an ongoing serial comedy filled with three of my favorite things: romance, donuts, and Tudor history. What do those have in common? Not much, but neither does Jane the 30-something divorcee, Henry the Donut Guy, clueless manager Richard Smythe, close-talker Carol, or Jerry the hairy-as-a-sasquatch maintenance man. Many other quirky characters add to the hilarious mix in this short, sweet romance. Enjoy!

  If you enjoyed this collection, please leave a review for it HERE and tell a friend about it. Word of mouth from readers is an author’s best friend. Thank you for your support! ~Mysti

  Did you miss Season One? Don’t fret. You can find it here:

  http://www.amazon.com/Roche-Hotel-Short-Romantic-Comedy-ebook/dp/B00NYCMIZQ

  About the Author:

  Mysti Parker is a wife, mom, writer, and shameless chocoholic. She is the author of the Tallenmere standalone fantasy romance series and The Roche Hotel romantic comedy series. Her short writings have appeared numerous anthologies and magazines. Her award-winning historical romance, A Time for Everything, will be published July 7, 2015 by EsKape Press.

  Other writing pursuits include serving as a class mentor in Writers Village University's seven week online course, F2K. She has also published two children’s books as Misty Baker—Quentin’s Problem and Fuzzy Buzzy’s Treasure.

  When she's not writing fiction, Mysti works as a freelance editor and copywriter and reviews books for SQ Magazine. She resides in Buckner, KY with her husband and three children.