by Mysti Parker
“I wouldn’t say exciting, just a typical weird night at The Roche. It’ll be even better with some fresh donuts.”
“Chocolate iced, right?” He kisses my cheek and heads for the door.
“Make it two.”
Episode #27
Wherefore art Thou, Treasure?
When you have the possibility of hidden treasure, inevitably you have treasure hunters and buzz. It started the next day after Katherine and her mobster ex, Tim, were arrested. A lone reporter and her cameraman interviewed Jerry. The report aired that night with all of Jerry’s responses in subtitles. The next day two more reporters showed up along with a treasure-hunting YouTube star. We’re now on day three and no closer to finding a treasure than we were when Tim pulled a gun on my sister.
Today’s another double shift for me. It’s 4:25 PM, and I’m busy checking in a mini-bus full of The Woman’s Christian Temperance Union. I had no idea such a thing still existed. Maybe they were frozen in the Prohibition era and recently thawed. They’re all kind of adorable with their dark skirt suits and matching jackets, even with their hard facial lines of impending judgment that have settled into permanent frowns. Mrs. Roche is in the lobby, greeting each one of them. She made sure to cover the David statue with a towel pinned at his shoulder like a terrycloth toga. I suppose even a bare-chested statue is a bit too much for this group.
“Jane, dear,” Mrs. Roche says, her chin barely even with the front desk, “make sure to give these ladies the best rooms we have. Not that horrid ghost room.”
Weird. This is the third time since the arrest that she’s asked me not to rent that room.
“Ghost?” one lady says, aghast. Her nametag says ‘Agnes, Tour Coordinator.’
Mrs. Roche titters nervously. “I mean holy ghost.”
“You have a holy ghost room?” Agnes says, with one eyebrow at a sharp slant and her frown sinking deeper down her chin.
“Yes…it’s a chapel…and we’re renovating. So we can’t rent it right now.” Poor Mrs. Roche is paler than usual, like she’s seen the Holy Ghost himself. She looks at me pointedly.
I give her a ‘good save’ wink. “Here are your room keys, ladies. Enjoy your stay.”
Agnes scans the lobby. “I was assured there is no bar on the premises.”
“No, of course not,” I confirm, trying to look slightly aghast without overdoing it. “But O’Shea’s is next door if you’re thirsty.”
I couldn’t help myself.
“No, thank you.” Agnes treads down the hall in a huff, mumbling something about the ‘sins of drink.’
As soon as the ladies have all left the lobby, Mrs. Roche crosses her arms and frowns at me. “These ladies are special guests, so let’s have no more sass.”
“Sorry,” I say, trying not to smile too much. “By the way, I thought you didn’t believe in our ghost.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why not let me rent the room? The police are done investigating. And we’re not renovating.” I lean close, resting my elbows on the front desk and whisper, “Isn’t fibbing a sin?”
She pinches her lips together into a thin line. “Never mind that. I have my reasons.” Mrs. Roche tightens up David’s toga and brews herself a cup of tea before heading to her room.
The poor dear really needs more than a long distance boyfriend. Maybe someone at Shady Serenity is available. I make a note to ask Mom tomorrow when I visit her.
****
Over our Golden Wok dinner in the breakfast area, Henry and I watch Jerry and the YouTube guy bent over a laptop at a table in the corner. I've discovered his name is Andrew, but his channel name (whatever that means) is AwesomeAndy007. This guy is short, slender and very British. Sitting beside sasquatch-sized Jerry, they make quite the odd couple.
YouTube Guy is talking into his computer camera. “We’re here at the historic Roche Hotel, investigating a rumor of mob treasure hidden somewhere on the property. Will it prove to be a hoax or a payday?”
“What are those two doing?” Henry whispers.
“They’ve teamed up to be co-treasure hunters, I think.”
“I can’t look away. It’s like a train wreck.” He chuckles then takes a bite of eggroll.
“Or one of those Guinness pictures of the world’s tallest man beside the world’s shortest man.”
“Yeah, that’s it. You’re too smart for your own good.” Henry kisses me on the cheek just as Nick comes in, looking like he’s not slept in a week.
“Hey, Donut Guy,” Nick says with a nod.
The two of them share a mutual glare before Nick heads into the office.
“He doesn’t look so good,” Henry says. “Maybe he’s not long for this world.”
I pop him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, stop that.”
“What? I can always dream, right?” Laughing, he picks up our empty containers and takes them to the trash. “I gotta run. Since you’ve got the weekend off, I need to get busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Smart and nosy. That’s my Lady Jane.” He gives me one of those quick but promising kisses that leaves me wobbly and wishing we had an hour alone. “See ya.”
“See ya.” When he’s gone, I wander into the office to see Nick pouring an extra-large mug of coffee. “Hey, what’s up? Brandy still sick?”
“She’s doing better.” He glances at me with bloodshot eyes and slumps into the chair behind the desk.
“Okay, so why do you look like you’re auditioning for The Walking Dead?”
He sighs, leaning on the desk with his elbows, head hanging. “Why do you care, babe?”
Good question. I should probably wish he’d join the actual dead, but now that we’re pretty far from the divorce side of things, it’s easier to let go of the grudges. Having a guy as fantastic as Henry helps too, of course.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and lean against the edge of the desk. “Look, you’re trying to do the right thing by Brandy, and you’re doing a good job helping to manage this place. You’re even being good to Mom. I can’t wish an asteroid to fall on someone who loves my mother.”
Nick looks up with a wan smile. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah, if nothing else, I’m nosy. Or so says Henry.”
“The Donut Guy and I can agree on that, at least,” he says with a chuckle.
“Okay, whatever. Tell me what’s wrong before I call down an asteroid.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know…I guess I’m just not ready, you know?”
“Ready for what?”
He swallows hard, staring down at his coffee as if the right words might form in the steam. “For being a dad, babe. I’m not ready.”
“If I’m not mistaken, babies come whether you’re ready or not.”
“It’s not that.” He takes a deep breath, eyes glistening. It’s the most real emotion I’ve seen from Nick in years. “What if I screw up? He might turn out like me.”
“Or she.”
“Right, or she, same difference.”
“Okay, so what if you’re not perfect? If I thought for a moment that you were going to be one serious screw up of a dad, don’t you think I’d tell you?”
“Good point. You’re nosy.”
“Enough with the nosy already. My point is, you’re trying. That’s all that matters. Screw ups don’t keep trying. They give up and leave.”
“Like I left you,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t say you’re not a screw up of a husband, but you don’t have to be a bad dad. And I don’t think you will be.”
“You really think so?”
I stop to think for a second. This is turning out to be the most serious conversation I’ve had with Nick in a long while. A kid’s life and future therapy bills are at stake here. I don’t want to just placate him. But I know he has the kid’s best interests at heart. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to me about it.
I cover my hand with his. “Yeah, I think so. You’ll be a great dad. You alread
y care about your kid, and you don’t even know what it’s going to be yet.”
He looks at my hand, smiles and then meets my eyes. “Thanks, babe.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Does this mean you’ll babysit?”
“Now you’re pushing it.”
He laughs as I head back to the front desk. Jerry and YouTube Guy are still in a heated debate about where the treasure might be. They have blueprints on one table, scattered newspapers on another.
“Can’t rah ma da place,” Jerry says. “Richard wom muh kut. Gotta know mur da mar.”
Andrew looks to me for translation.
"Can't tear up the place," I translate. "Richard won't like it. Gotta know where to start."
He nods. “Right, right, but with all these people here, it’s not simple. And if someone beats us to it…but honestly, I think we’re looking at a hoax.”
I look at David in his towel toga, and a light bulb comes on. “Hey guys, I think I know where you should start.”
The men both turn to look at me. YouTube Guy has to lean past Jerry’s bulk to see me and turns his laptop camera toward me. “Do you, now? I’ve been doing this for years. But do enlighten me.”
I’ve never been one to like the camera, but I really don’t like this guy’s attitude. I look right at him and prop my elbows on the front desk. “Room 12. Start there.”
“Why should we start there?”
“Because Mrs. Roche and her husband owned this hotel for decades. And she doesn’t want anyone in that room since you’ve been snooping around.”
Jerry’s facial hair curves up into a U shape. I’m pretty sure he’s smiling at me.
Episode #28
X Marks the Heart Attack?
My cell phone rings, waking me from a nice dream about Henry. I’m sleeping over at his house and still not entirely familiar with the placement of things. Especially when I’m in a zombie-like sleepless trance. Slapping around the bedside table, I finally grab the thing and blink the sleep from my eyes. The caller ID says it’s Susan. And that it’s only 10:03 AM. I’ve gotten maybe two hours of sleep. Henry’s not even back yet from his morning deliveries.
I really want to just put the phone down and let voicemail get it, but it could be important. It could be about the treasure or Nick or Katherine up to no good again. God, I really am nosy.
Tapping accept, I grunt, “Hello, what’s up?”
“You’ll never believe it!” Susan’s all breathy and excited as usual. Does she have any other speed besides hyper?
“Try me. What is it?”
“They’ve found something in Room 12. You were right!”
“That’s gr…” A yawn swallows my voice. “Great. What is it?”
“I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just so excited!”
“That’s okay. Now that I’m awake, you might as well tell me what it is.”
“A secret room, well a passageway into one, under the hotel.”
“Interesting. What kind of room?”
“We’re not sure yet. We have to get some guys out here to make sure it’s safe and won’t collapse before we go too far.”
“What about Mrs. Roche? Does she know?”
“No, she’s gone to a temperance conference with her friends.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Apparently. Jerry and Andrew waited until they were gone to go in. They checked all the walls with some equipment and then cut a hole through one of them. Richard wasn’t at all happy about it, but when they found the stairs, he changed his mind. I dread when Mrs. Roche gets back though. We can’t really hide anything now. Anyway, sorry to keep you. Just thought you’d like to know you were right.”
I yawn again. “Aren’t I always?”
Susan giggles. “You’re awesome, Jane. I’m so glad we found you.”
“That’s nice of you. Talk to you later.” If I wasn’t so sleep-deprived, it would have been a good time to ask for a raise. I hit “End” and fall asleep again before my head hits the pillow.
****
I’m woken sometime later with gentle kisses on my forehead and cheeks. Smiling, I open my eyes to see Henry’s handsome face close to mine.
“Afternoon, sleepyhead,” he says.
“Hey.” Yawning, I sit up and snuggle into his warm hug. He’s still wearing his Hermann’s Bakery shirt, with smudges of icing and the scent of fried carb goodness.
Henry hands me a steaming cup of coffee and a small bag that must contain two chocolate iced donuts, from the weight of it. I dig one out (so nice and warm) and take a huge bite, followed by a sip of coffee. Thank God for my donut guy.
Handing me a napkin, he says, “I hope you haven’t made any plans for today.”
“Nope, just picking up my paycheck. Mom’s out with Julius for an overnighter at the lake. They’re like a couple of retirement home teenagers.”
He frowns a bit. “You okay with them being away from the home for a while?”
That old nagging worry makes me hesitate. I’m the first one to admit I doubted his grandpa would be able to handle Mom’s early dementia, as unpredictable as it was. But since they’ve been married, she’s been happier and more lucid than I’ve seen her in months.
With a determined nod, I decide to let go of the fear and be happy for my mom. “Yeah, they’re taking a nurse along just in case. Your grandpa takes such good care of her. I’m happy they have each other.”
A relieved smile softens his face and accentuates his gorgeous eyes. “Good. Now let’s get cleaned up. I’m taking my Lady Jane for a night on the town.”
“Wow. Sounds fab! Oh, did I tell you Susan called? They found a secret room of some sort under Room 12.”
“Fascinating.” Henry unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside while I happily finish off the first donut.
“Why go out when I can have dinner and a show right here?”
“No, that’s just a preview of the after party. I’d love to hear more about this secret room, though.”
“Okay, go ahead and shower. I’ll tell you after that.”
Henry takes me by the hand and pulls me to my feet beside the bed. “No time to waste. You can tell me in the shower.”
I glance at my half-finished coffee and uneaten second donut getting cold on the table. Desire and hunger wage a mini war, but it’s short lived. I dart toward the bathroom, dragging Henry behind me. Hot donuts and caffeine can wait. It’s not every day a girl gets to shower with a hot donut guy.
****
We’re just leaving a special showing of The Virgin Queen, a 50’s flick starring Bette Davis as Queen Elizabeth I. Talk about a night on the town. I've directed a lot of guests to the Stage Left Cinema, a theater that serves actual food and wine like a real dinner theater. But I'd never been myself until tonight. The only movie theaters I’ve been to involve pimply teenagers, overly salty popcorn and suspiciously sticky floors.
Henry wraps an arm around me as we head to his car. “Is my Lady Jane pleased?”
“Very.” So pleased in fact, that the thought of a marriage proposal right now wouldn’t make me turn tail and run screaming down the street.
“Good. There’s something else I…” Henry pauses on the sidewalk and turns me to face him.
My eyes grow wide, my heart pounds in my ears. Is he about to ask? Dear God, what will I say? What should I say? I love Henry, no doubt, but am I really ready to take the next step just because he took me to a fancy movie?
My phone rings and buzzes inside my purse, breaking my trance. I put a finger to Henry’s lips and wrestle my phone out, partly annoyed and partly relieved for the interruption. The caller ID says Susan Smythe again.
I hit ‘accept’ and put it to my ear. “Hi Susan, what’s up?”
A nervous, male voice with a watered-down British accent comes through instead. “Sorry, Jane, it’s Richard.”
“Oh, what’s up, Richard?” I glance up at Henry, who crosses his arms and tilts his mouth
to one side, clearly aggravated, but still cute.
“It’s Mrs. Roche. She’s had a heart attack.”
I lower my hand from Henry’s lips and stumble to a bench nearby, sitting on it clumsily. Henry’s annoyed expression turns to concern, and he sits beside me, his arm around my waist as though he’s afraid I might tumble off the bench. I mouth the words, “Mrs. Roche. Heart attack,” so he won’t be left in suspense while I get the details.
“When? What happened?” I manage to ask.
“Just an hour or so ago. She’s in the hospital now and stable.” Richard pauses and lets out a long breath. “She came back from the convention. We were still uncovering the secret passageway. We were rather caught up in the excitement and forgot about her return. She found us in there, hyperventilated, clutched her chest and fainted dead away.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“We’re not sure. Susan and I are at the hospital now, waiting for the doctor’s report. They’ll be keeping her at least overnight for observation.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know. If she’s still there tomorrow, I’ll drop by.”
“Good, yes of course. She’s always been fond of you.”
Poor Richard sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. A mixture of worry, guilt and fatigue, I suspect. Despite all their conflicts, he does care for the dear old lady like a mother. One of those meddling, judgmental mothers, but a mother nonetheless.
“Get some rest, okay? I know she’s fond of you too.” I end the phone call and plop my cell back in my purse. Henry stands and holds out his hand to help me up. We walk back to his car in silence, our night on the town now clouded over with the sad news. Still, I can’t stop wondering what it was that Henry was about to say before I answered that call. But I’m pretty sure bringing it up myself would be selfish at a time like this. Or maybe I’m still too afraid to know…
****
Henry and I didn’t get much sleep, and not because of Mrs. Roche’s heart attack. He’s a man of many talents, especially when we’ve had a glass of wine or two. Does that make me a bad person? Nah. We’d have gotten a call if she’d took a turn for the worse. At least I hope so. I never want to associate an awesome night with Henry with an overnight death. I had my fill of that when the councilman died on my first week at The Roche.