Page 65 of The Last Good Man

Her voice is more upbeat before she sucks in a short breath.

“It will be tight, but we can do it. I just need to make some phone calls. I’m sorry…” She looks at me, gesturing. “This has nothing to do with you. I’m just talking to myself.”

I start to feel bad as she apologizes profusely, and I’m ready to cancel my plans andgo backwhen she speaks again.

“Would it bother you if I upgraded you for free?”

I tilt my head to her, lifting a brow.

“Bother me? No,” I say, reading her eyes. I notice she’s holding something back. “But there seems to be a problem with it. No?”

She moves her eyes to the computer and starts putting in my information

“There’s no problem for me as long as there’s no problem for you. The honeymoon suite I offer you won’t be occupied until tomorrow evening. We just need to get it ready for the lovely couple checking in at six o'clock in the evening. I’m sorry that Ihave tomake you privy to all these details.”

“Don’t worry. Are you going to be able to do all that? I imagine you need new flowers and––”

“Yes. And yes,”shecuts me off.“There area lot ofthings we need to do, but we don’t worry about the flowers.My sister-in-law is a florist.”

“You can take all that stuff out of my room,” I say. “I won’t need it anyway. And you can savehera few hours of stress.”

She gestures faintly.

“No, no. I’ll only take it out if it bothers you. Does it?”

“No, of course not. I just want to make sure things work out for everybody.”

“They will. Don’t worry about us. Just enjoy yourself. The suite comes with complimentary champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and…” She smiles. “Well, you’ll see the rest. Let me get the key.”

She calls her husband’s name and tells him the news.

Behind him, a much younger man looks at me with curious eyes. That must be her son.

Once she starts talking, they all get busy.

Herbert takes my suitcase upstairs while the young man drives to the nearest town to take care of the flowers.

I feel bad.

I feel good.

I don’t want to create so much trouble for so many people, but they seem content with how they’ve fixed the problem.

I am, too, although I never imagined spending the night in a honeymoon suite meant for someone else.

My hostess talks as we take the stairs up, none of her words registering with me.

And then she walks me to a different side of the house and carefully opens a large door.

“This is it,” she says, welcoming inside.

I pivot to the entrance and turn to stone.

12

MELODY

It’s not like I’m easily impressionable.

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