Page 2 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

Larkin

I thinkit’s bigger on the inside. Somehow, The Centennial’s enormous, beautiful exterior doesn’t prepare oneat allfor what’s inside.

It’s huge. It’s rustic yet also refined, an odd combination of wood and marble, of antlers and crystal chandelier that I find super charming.

I feel like it’s the year 1895 and I’ve just arrived after several days on a stagecoach. I feel like I should be wearing a high-necked silk dress with a bustle and have two ladies’ maids in attendance.

In other words, I feel very, very fancy.

The lobby is enormous. The check-in counter is on one side, the stairs on the other, and in the huge space in between is a fireplace that’s taller than I am and a whole squadron of leather couches, all looking buttery soft and perfectly supple, a few wool throws casually tossed over the back for good measure.

“You must be so cold, sweetheart,” Poppy says, my arm still in her hand. “Come on this way, we’ve got some hot cocoa ready for you.”

She pulls me out of the lobby and into a nook. Sure enough, there’s a teapot on a warmer, and she pours me a mug of delicious-looking hot chocolate, then offers me a bowl of mini-marshmallows.

I resist the urge to dump all the marshmallows onto the hot chocolate and only take a few, scattering them on top and taking a sip.

“This is wonderful,” I tell Poppy, who’s already busied herself straightening the stack of mugs.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” she tells me, quickly wiping a drip off the side table. “We’ve been making it every day during the winter since this place has been open. Now, where should we start the tour? I like to finish in your room so that you can stay there for a spell and get situated. When the boys arrived a few days ago I showed them the pool and sauna first but I’m not sure that’s the best plan of attack, it’s not as if you’ll be using either of those things a great deal during your stay…”

Boys?

Who are the boys?

For whatever reason, I’d assumed that I’d be the youngest person here at this particular artists’ retreat. It’s the first one I’ve been to, but it just seems like the kind of thing retired people do, you know? I was expecting gray-haired women working on their novels, or middle-aged poets who wanted a properly gloomy winter landscape to gaze upon whilst composing sonnets.

I hope they’re not super young, I think.

I just want to paint in peace for a couple of monthswith minimum disruption.

After all, I’ve cleared my schedule completely. I’ve told all my graphic design clients — that’s my day job — that I’ll be incommunicado until March.

I’ve got nothing to do for all that time except paint as much as I possibly can, and that’s what I’m going to do.

Besides, if the other artists in residence are obnoxious kids who party too much, avoiding them in this huge hotel will be a cinch. This place isenormous.

“Earth to Larkin?” Poppy says, and I realize that she’s been talking to me the whole time I’ve been lost in my thoughts. Sadly, that’s not an unusual experience for me.

“Yes! Of course, that sounds wonderful,” I say enthusiastically, hoping that it’s the response she was expecting.

She raises one eyebrow.

I don’t think it was.

“It sounds wonderful that the pipes will freeze if you don’t keep the heat turned to sixty-five and turn all the taps in the East Wing and kitchen when it goes below zero?” she asks, clearly amused.

“Uh…”

She pats my shoulder, smiling.

“You’ve had a long drive. I’ll show you around before I start giving you the instructions,” Poppy says, and leads me back through the massive, ornate lobby.

* * *

It’s a very fancy hotel.Have I mentioned that yet, that The Centennial is a very fancy hotel?

It is. There’s both a formal dining room and a cozier breakfast room; there’s a big industrial kitchen and a smaller ‘breakfast kitchen’ that looks much more like what I’m familiar with. There are mounted deer and elk heads everywhere, but it somehow still looks incredibly classy.

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