Midnight Cravings. Elizabeth Harbison

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СКАЧАТЬ but when she didn’t say anything further, Josie wondered if the girl had trouble understanding her.

      “It’s Beaujold,” she said. “B-E-A-U-J-O-L-D.” Silence. “Could you check, please?”

      “Why, yes, yes, I could.”

      Josie waited again while the girl did nothing.

      “Would you?” she asked finally, realizing that this game was all about picking the right words.

      “Certainly,” the girl responded, and looked at the computer screen before her. “No, she hasn’t arrived yet.” She nodded very seriously. “That’s what I thought.”

      “Thanks for looking,” Josie said with some irritation. She set her bags down and took her wallet out of her purse. “I guess I’ll just go ahead and check in myself.”

      Blank stare.

      “My name’s Josephine Ross.” She gestured toward the computer. “I think you’ll find I’m in the room adjoining Ms. Beaujold’s suite. In fact, since I reserved both rooms, I may as well do the check-in for both now. I’ll give Ms. Beaujold her key when she comes in.” It was one small thing she could do to make things a little easier for Beatrice when she arrived. Josie took her brand-new company credit card out, set it on the counter and stepped back to wait. The smell of beer hung in the air like mist.

      The girl took the card, ran it through the slider, then tapped at the computer with one finger. It took her about ten minutes, but she finally looked up and announced, “This card’s been declined.”

      “What?” Josie’s jaw dropped.

      “It was declined.” The girl started to take a pair of scissors out of the drawer.

      “Whoa, wait a minute!” Josie snatched the card from the girl. “There must be some kind of mistake. I’ll call the company. Meanwhile, just use this one.” She foraged in her purse for her personal credit card and prayed there was enough room on it to cover expenses. Her savings had dipped very, very low while she was looking for a job. Page-turner had hired her just in the nick of time.

      She waited uncomfortably for about five minutes until the girl handed the card back to her, along with a carbon slip for her signature. “I’ve signed you in. I’ll just get your keys.” Remarkably, she turned to do so without being specifically asked.

      When she got the large brass keys, Josie thanked the girl, picked up her case and stepped away from the counter so the next poor guest could try their luck with her. Slipping the keys into her pocket, she took the company credit card back out of her purse and opened her cell phone so she could find out what the problem was.

      Unfortunately, the phone registered that it couldn’t find a signal. She moved around the room, then out onto the deck, hauling her luggage along with her and watching the face of the phone for some sign of life.

      “It’s no use, there’s no cell tower around here,” a kind-faced woman with bright blue eyes and apple cheeks said to Josie.

      Josie felt like a foreigner abroad upon spotting an American compatriot. “You already tried?”

      The woman smiled and took a similar phone out of her purse. “I’ve been trying since ten miles outside of Charlotte.”

      “Well.” Josie put the phone away. “I guess I can do without it for a few days. Somehow.” She’d just use her card and fill out an expense report when she got back. She set her heavy bags down and held out her hand. “Josie Ross.”

      The woman took it and smiled. “Dolores Singer. But you can call me Buffy.” She must have taken a lot of flack for her nickname in the past because before Josie could respond, she held up a hand and said, “Yes, seriously. To my great misfortune, I was a fan of Family Affair as a child and my father started calling me Buffy. Before I knew what hit me, it stuck. He meant well.”

      “I loved that show.” Josie laughed, remembering that she even had a Mrs. Beasley doll once. “So, I’m guessing from your accent that you’re not from these parts.”

      “Nope. Cleveland. How about you?”

      “Manhattan. It feels like another planet.”

      “I know what you mean,” Buffy agreed. “I like it. It’s so laid-back here. Very relaxing.”

      Josie thought that forced relaxation was anything but relaxing, but she didn’t say it. “So, are you here for the chili cook-off? Representing Ohio with some Cincinnati-style chili, perhaps?”

      Buffy shook her head. “Actually, I came to meet Beatrice Beaujold. She’s the one who wrote the manluring cookbook. I owe her a huge debt of gratitude.”

      “You do? Why?”

      “It’s thanks to her that I’m engaged to be married.”

      “Really?” Josie asked, ever a sucker for romance, as long as it wasn’t close enough to break her heart.

      “Because of her recipes?”

      “I think so.” Buffy blushed. “He actually fell to his knees two bites into her sweet potato pudding at a Memorial Day picnic.” She shrugged. “All I can think is that it had something to do with the recipe because I sure didn’t see it coming.”

      Josie was extremely skeptical, but she knew it was her job to foster this idea, not to discourage it. Rather than lie, she just remained silent.

      “I know it sounds crazy, but I guess crazier things have happened.”

      Josie smiled. “Congratulations. I hope you’ll be very happy.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s been nice chatting with you, but I need to go to my room to use the phone.”

      “The rooms here don’t have phones.”

      “What?”

      “No phones in the rooms.”

      Josie closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “So I’m guessing fax machines are out of the question.”

      “Afraid so.” Buffy gave an understanding smile.

      “It’s a little bit of a time warp, but I think it adds to the peaceful atmosphere.”

      Josie sighed. This was not making her feel peaceful.

      “Try the little hall just inside the front door,” Buffy suggested. “I think I saw a pay phone there.”

      Josie thanked her and carried her things back into the hallway Buffy had described and set her heavy suitcase down. Sure enough, there was a pay phone, but it was about a hundred years old and the reception crackled like lightning before she even pressed zero for the operator. She fidgeted with the wire, trying to find a position in which the line was quiet enough to make a call, but it didn’t work.

      Exasperated, she muttered an oath about tiny backward towns and put the phone down. God willing, there would be a working phone in her room. She’d go on up and make her call quickly so she didn’t miss Beatrice’s arrival. Satisfied with her plan, she went to pick up her suitcase.

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