Apotheosis

by Joshua Edward Smith

  “Fuck,” Cynthia said.

  “Yeah. Fuck. So, majority shareholder, it’s your call. Rebuild or take the money and run?”

  Cynthia stared at the screen. She was speechless.

  ¤

  Charlie came into the room after the call was over. “I think we’ve got everything that could be got,” he said.

  Cynthia looked up at him, momentarily confused. “Oh! You mean from the inn?”

  “Yes. There are nine boxes in my car, labeled with the room numbers. We found some car keys, wallets, stuff like that. We didn’t bother with the suitcases or the clothes. They were a mess. You just need to put the addresses on the boxes, and I can ship them out for you.”

  “You’re a dear. Thank you,” Cynthia said. “Did any of my stuff survive?”

  “I took your jewelry box to a guy I know. He’ll go through it and clean it all up. We didn’t find anything else worth keeping. Oh! Hang on, I want to show you something we found, though.” Charlie ran out of the room, and she heard the sound of a car trunk closing.

  “Oh God, what is that smell?” Cynthia said.

  Charlie shook his head. “Yeah, that’s why we’re not keeping any of your clothes. There’s no way that’s ever coming out. Anyway, check this out. Billy and I couldn’t figure out how the fire could have done this, but we both thought it was hilarious.” From behind his back, Charlie revealed Tragic Monkey, the macramé experiment gone horribly wrong.

  Cynthia burst out laughing. “He’s supposed to look like that!” she protested.

  Charlie looked at the tangled creature in his grasp. “What? How?”

  “Well, I mean, he wasn’t supposed to look like that. But the fire wasn’t responsible. I made him with my own two hands, and I love him.”

  Charlie looked from her to Tragic Monkey and back.

  “I love him, but he can’t be in the house with me. That smell is nauseating,” she clarified.

  Charlie left the room and came back shortly thereafter. The smell lingered. “It’s on the porch. The boxes are in my car. You want to print some labels, or just come out and hand-write them?”

  “I should put a check in with each of them to cover whatever they lost. Clothes. Luggage. Maybe a thousand each?”

  Charlie raised his eyebrows. “A thousand? That’s a lot for someone who just last night was saying she has nothing.”

  “Well, things change,” she said.

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Okay… You know, I got a check once and on the back it said something like, ‘By signing this, you give up your rights to sue us.’ Or something. It was like a class action settlement I think. Maybe you should do something like that. Here’s a grand, please don’t ask for more money.”

  Cynthia nodded. “That’s a really good idea. I’ll email Phillip about it. I don’t have a checkbook anyway right now. I’ll ask him to get some language from his lawyer and work with the bank. I’ll come out and hand-write the addresses on the boxes.”

  She got up and found a marker in Charlie’s desk, and she brought her laptop out to the car. Charlie followed.

  “So,” he said. “Are you going to tell me about this Junior guy who burned your house down? And why are you suddenly in this mood?”

  “What mood?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re not exactly back to your old self, but you don’t seem so depressed as you did last night at the bar.”

  “Turns out there’s insurance,” she said. “A lot of insurance.”

  “Oh! Well that’s good news. Like enough to rebuild?” he asked.

  Cynthia nodded as she was writing addresses on the boxes, which Charlie was stacking on the driveway next to his car. “Yeah. More than enough.”

  “So will you? Rebuild I mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  “What does Phillip think?” he asked.

  “Didn’t say. He’s leaving this up to me, since I’m the majority shareholder.”

  “I see. So tell me about Junior.”

  Cynthia looked up at Charlie. “The official version is that I have no idea who he is. He’s just some crazy person.”

  “And the unofficial version?”

  “You can’t tell anyone. I’ll tell you, but it stays with you to the grave. Do you understand?” she asked.

  “Scout’s honor. I’ll never tell. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said.

  “No, it’s okay. I trust you.” Cynthia closed her laptop and stood up. She leaned against Charlie’s car. “It was an old score that got settled. Family business. Basically, Patrick decked him, Paula torched his car, Phillip intimidated a witness.”

  “And you?” Charlie asked.

  “I covered it up. Lied to the cops. Gave them all an alibi.”

  “Wow. Okay. I guess you’re more family with them than I realized.”

  Cynthia nodded as she crouched back down to continue addressing boxes.

  “What was the old score about?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. It was legit. He had it coming. I’d rather not say anything more about it. Doesn’t feel like my place,” she said.

  Charlie put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” she replied, glancing up at him.

  “That it blew back on you. Seems like you suffered for the actions of other people.”

  “Family is a two way street. I have their back. They have my back. Phillip knew about the insurance rider before he signed the loan agreement. He could have just walked away with the lion’s share of the money. But he didn’t. He signed the agreement anyway.”

  “I told you. He’s a good guy. I knew things would work out okay,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and congratulate yourself,” she said, not looking up.

  Charlie laughed. “So what about the inn?”

  She shook her head. “One thing at a time. I need to get these boxes out and get in touch with Phillip about the settlement checks. I want to see the insurance money in the bank before I start making plans.”

  Charlie took the boxes that were addressed and hoisted them back into his car. “Okay. Well if you want to talk it through, I’m here.”

  She glanced at him. “I know. And I love that about you.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Cynthia walked around the job site taking pictures with her phone. She focused particularly on taking pictures of people working, as those seemed to get the most likes on social media. Whenever there was a workman in a picture, she’d ask their name, to make things feel more personal in the captions. She texted the pictures and names to Sam in real time, who would then do all the posts on social media.

  Cynthia had hired Sam as her social media director, at least during the reconstruction, and possibly for good. It turned out she was a good writer, and of course she was familiar with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snap Chat, and a few more services Cynthia had never heard of. The digital footprint of the Phillips House was growing, even if the physical footprint was stuck exactly where it was.

  She had grown to hate zoning. The zoning map was adopted after the inn was established, which meant that while Cynthia was allowed to rebuild, she was heavily restricted in what changes she could make. She could not increase the footprint. Zoning did not allow buildings taller than two stories, so going up was not an option. Yet building codes had changed, and she now had to accommodate people with disabilities. There had to be an elevator, ramps, and some larger doors and bathrooms.

  Together with her chosen architect, they had decided the only solution was to go down. So they tore up the old slab and dug a basement. Today the cement truck was there pouring the floor and walls. The footings had gone in a couple weeks ago. The basement would house the mechanical room for the elevator, the boiler, laundry, and a full industrial kitchen. She wanted a separate kitchen for Billy to use for breakfast service, but it wasn’t that much more expensive to make something big enough to entice caterers to r
ecommend the inn to their clients. As much as she hated dealing with brides, she loved the price elasticity of a wedding party. Rack rate all the way.

  In the end, she lost one guest room and got her personal kitchen back. The residence would be similar in size to what Emma had, except for a larger kitchen, and higher ceilings. She hoped that would make it feel roomier. She and Charlie didn’t need much room—kids were not on the menu at their age. But she felt a little cramped by the low ceilings of the old residence. The new layout was more modern and open.

  She checked in with the builder, who said things were right on schedule, and then she got in her car and headed back to Charlie’s. He was waiting on his front step with a silly grin on his face.

  “What are you up to?” she asked.

  “I know a secret,” he said.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Go on.”

  “Somebody has a birthday today.”

  “Who? I love other people’s birthdays!” she said with a smile.

  “No such luck. It’s yours,” he said.

  “How did you learn this secret information?”

  “I might have snooped at your driver’s license.”

  “Dammit,” she said.

  “Look over there.” He pointed toward his shed. Next to it were two brand new bicycles, one adorned with a big red bow.

  “Oh!” She ran over to look. “Oh, Charlie! I love it! That was so sweet! You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I miss our bike rides,” he said, walking over to her. Cynthia gave him a long kiss. He smiled at her. “There’s something else.”

  “Is it cake?” she asked. “I love cake!”

  “Not cake,” he said, turning on his heel and walking toward the house with his long strides. Cynthia struggled to keep up and followed him into the living room. She scanned the room twice before noticing a small red bow under the TV. She walked over and inspected it. It was attached to a new VCR.

  “Um?” she turned to look at him.

  “Press the eject button,” he said.

  She did as instructed and after a few seconds, the machine spit out a VHS tape. She pulled it out and examined it. “Oh. My. God! Where did you find this?”

  “E-bay,” he said.

  “How did you even know?”

  “Sam helped.”

  “Sam?” she asked.

  “I wanted to get you something special, besides the bike. And I didn’t really have any ideas. So I messaged her on Facebook, and she said doing yoga with that tape was your thing. She figured out which one it was, and then I tracked down a copy.”

  “Oh, Charlie. That was so considerate. You are just the best boyfriend ever.”

  “I know. I’m glad you got past your history with Sam. She’s a good friend.”

  “She is. It was weird at first. But I had to let things go, you know? When I think back to the time she and I spent together—there was a closeness I hadn’t felt for another person in a long time. Maybe never. I’m glad to have her back in my life now.”

  “How’s the inn coming?” Charlie asked.

  “Slow. Everything takes so long. Concrete is going in today.”

  “Once they start framing it’ll go really fast. You’ll see,” he said.

  “I hope so. I really want to open before Halloween. That’s only eight months away,” she said.

  “It’ll happen,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “You’re a force of nature. You make things happen.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Cynthia unrolled her yoga mat and handed one to Sam. She left a third for Deena, in case she showed up. “Where’s the TV?” Sam asked.

  Cynthia walked to the opposite end of the room and pressed a button on the wall, and a screen lowered from the ceiling.

  “Fancy!” Sam said.

  “Very.” Cynthia started the tape and the wobbly picture came to life on the screen. “That old tape doesn’t do it justice, but there’s an HD projector in the ceiling. I’ve noticed that guys like to sneak out of wedding receptions and watch sports.”

  Sam and Cynthia performed the warm-up stretches the wobbly ghost of 1995 was demonstrating on the big screen.

  “May I join you?” Deena asked from the doorway.

  “Of course!” Cynthia said, pointing at the mat.

  Deena unrolled her mat and started to follow along. “I can’t believe this place. I mean—I’ve been following along on Facebook the whole time, but to see it in person… it’s something else.”

  “Thank you. This is Sam, by the way. She’s the one who’s been doing the Facebook posts.”

  “Oh, cool! Nice to meet you, Sam. How did you meet Cyn?”

  Cynthia smiled. She wondered how Sam would explain their relationship.

  “We dated for a while,” Sam deadpanned.

  Cynthia lost it and started laughing hard.

  “Cyn! I told you I had a feeling you swung both ways. You lied to me!” Deena pouted.

  “I thought Sam was a guy. It was online. It’s complicated,” Cynthia explained.

  “Mmm hmm. Sure.” Deena narrowed her eyes at Cynthia and then turned her attention back to the tape. A few minutes later she asked, “Is there going to be breakfast in the lobby like before? I’m starving.”

  “There is. Don’t you smell the bacon?” Cynthia said.

  Deena shook her head and looked at Sam, who shrugged.

  “You don’t? Bacon? French toast? Honeydew melon? Pineapple? You don’t smell all that?” Cynthia asked.

  “No, freak. We do not,” Sam replied. Deena laughed, and it was Cynthia’s turn to pout.

  After the tape ended, Deena and Sam rolled up the mats and Cynthia pressed the button to retract the screen. They went to the lobby, where Billy was setting up the breakfast buffet. It contained everything Cynthia predicted. She filled a plate and headed out to the back deck, where she found Phillip sitting by himself, sipping coffee.

  “Good morning, partner,” he said.

  “Good morning yourself, handsome. How’s the coffee?”

  “Really good. You don’t have any?” he asked. Right on cue, Charlie came out carrying a French press filled with steaming black coffee. Phillip raised his eyebrows.

  “We have a deal. He makes me this special coffee, and I let him live here,” she explained. Charlie smiled and nodded, but said nothing. He went back into the lobby, presumably to get himself some breakfast. Cynthia had left him in bed, and he did not yet seem fully awake.

  “Did Patrick make it in last night?” Phillip asked.

  “Yes, pretty late. Everyone else was already in for the night. Shame Paula’s family couldn’t make it, but she sent those nice flowers.” Cynthia pointed at a large bouquet sitting on the ofrenda next to Emma’s picture.

  “That’s quite a setup there. Even bigger than the one they had after the funeral.”

  “Maria spent all day getting it ready,” Cynthia explained.

  “Celita’s mom?” he asked

  “Right.”

  “And what’s that other one?” he pointed at a small shrine set up in the opposite corner of the deck. “It looks like a framed mattress ad.”

  “That’s Evan. My tumor. I’m not sure what the rules are for which souls get to come back on Día de los Muertos, but in case he gets to visit, I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

  “You’re so weird,” Phillip said.

  “Thank you,” she replied with a smile, sipping her coffee.

  “I was looking at all the certificates you have framed behind the front desk. It seems like everything’s signed off, huh?”

  “Yes. The building department gave us the occupancy permit yesterday. They were holding off until the sprinklers and elevator were inspected. Board of health gave their okay a couple weeks ago. It’s been just a bundle of red tape all month. I think they were starting to really hate me down at city hall.”

  “That’s awesome. I really have to hand it to you. I don’t think anybody else could have made this happen,” he said.
r />   “Emma’s gift certainly helped,” Cynthia said, looking over at her picture.

  “When I saw the amount, I thought she was crazy,” Phillip said. “It seemed like so much money.”

  “And yet…” Cynthia replied, shaking her head.

  “I never realized how expensive commercial construction is,” Phillip agreed.

  “Did you see we got a green certification? I had the builders follow the stretch code. We’re going to save a ton on energy costs. And, of course, no deferred maintenance surprises or bats. I fully expect our expense line to be a lot lower than it was last year.”

  “And the top line is growing, too, right? You cranked the rack rate to like five hundred?” he asked.

  “Just about. Four ninety-five. This is a luxury hotel now,” she said with a smile.

  Phillip shook his head. “You’re just trying to get that loan paid off as quickly as possible.”

  Cynthia smiled, but said nothing. Charlie emerged carrying a large plate, full of food. “May I join you?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Cynthia said. She poured Charlie some coffee from the French press.

  “Oh I see how it is,” Phillip said. “You share the special coffee with him, but not with me.”

  “Only if he earns it,” she said with a wink. “Billy did a great job with breakfast,” she said, turning to Charlie.

  He beamed. “He did. The kid is really learning. I mean, this isn’t exactly rocket science,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon. “But it’s not burned, and it’s not raw.”

  “What more could you ask?” Cynthia said with a smile. “Are you going to miss him at the restaurant?”

  “Well replacing him is a pain in the ass, but it’ll be nice to get someone in there with a little more autonomy. I’ll definitely miss the girls, though.”

  Cynthia laughed. “You are such a pig.”

  “What? I just meant they are hard workers!”

  “Sure you did. Uh huh.”

  “I’m missing something,” Phillip said.

  “Celita and Nina have been working for Charlie here. Just until I got the inn open again. They’re both coming back to work for me now. I think they’re tired of his eyes boring holes in their hot little bodies.”