Novel - Hotel Scene

          Stepping up the porch, bag in hand, she was greeted by great, heavy, oaken doors. As she stepped through, a Ding-a-ling-a-ling sounded. What is it with bells on the doors in this town? Stepping to the counter, she expected the man to greet her with a “Howdy Mrs. Douglas!” Instead, she was greeted with a smile and nod, followed with a courtesy “Good afternoon!” It was clear he meant it.

            She smiled (or grimaced, she couldn’t tell which, and couldn’t care less at this point).

            “You looking for a room?” A ‘No, I’m looking for a stall and a bit of your finest alfalfa, sir’ was clearly warranted, but Robin held herself back and nodded politely.

            “All righty then, let’s see what we’ve got.” He pulled a bound, leather book from under the counter. What is this, the middle ages? Should I ask about where to park my mule?

            “Let me see…” he passed his index finger down the list. “We’ve got rooms on the first floor… we’ve got a few rooms on the second floor…” Robin expected him to say something about stabling. “…we’ve got rooms on-”

            “Second!” the man’s eyes darted up. “Second, second floor is fine.”

“Yes ma’m.” Robin almost gagged. How old does he think I am!? The man took out a pen and turned the book around, placing his finger on the first empty line. There were seven entries from the last five years. She scribbled a name in it and put the pen down. Taking the pen and turning the book, he bent over and squinted at the text.

            “Alrighty then, Ms…” The manager squinted harder at the text, moving his head this way and that. His body waggled, following its motion. A huff escaped Robin’s lips. Hearing this, the man’s head lifted up to Robin’s stare. His head lolled back, as did his eyes, as though scanning the ceiling.

            “Avery, Avery, what are you thinking?” he laughed. Robin’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back a bit. Seeing this, he laughed again and flapped his hand at her. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just and old man…” He reached down to the counter. “…trying to read without his glasses.”

            Perched on his nose, his glasses intersected his gaze, providing clarity. “Now let’s see here, Miss…” his finger ran down the page and stopped. He blinked. He blinked again. His lowered head now looked like a doorknob, rotating to one side.

            He glanced up at Robin, his voice suddenly very quiet. “Miss Romany.” She blinked. Was he having a stroke? Her arms came up, and flapped back down to her sides.

            “Yes, that is my name. Miss Robin ­­­­­­Romany." He glanced back to the book. "Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh no! No, not at all. Always happy for another guest.”