Page 108 of Embracing Trust

I can’t take another minute of this.

“I see that.” I gallop down the porch steps. “I’ll be in touch.”

When I climb up into the seat and glance at the porch, Mom still clutches her dishtowel.

I give a small wave and pull away from the house.

Once I’m on the road, I make a hands-free phone call. The phone rings three times until I get an answer.

“Hello?”

“It’s Ryan. I really need your help.”

Chapter Forty-five

Julia

I put my black pumps and cosmetic bag in my suitcase, zip the overstuffed carry-on closed, and wheel it to the front door.

I plop down on the couch and lean my head back.

My stomach is in knots this morning and I woke up with a headache. Couldn’t sleep last night. It’s been two weeks since Ryan showed up on my porch offering his explanation for this entire mess. I wish I would’ve done things differently. I had been suspicious of his behavior but not suspicious enough.

Although I’m honored to receive the award, I’m disappointed about the trip. I had been looking forward to spending the time with Ryan—having him share in my big accomplishment. Dreading the idea of going alone, I invited Merilee to accompany me—enticing her that it could make a great girls’ weekend, but she declined. Instead, she encouraged me to indulge in some much-needed “alone time,” as she called it. She insisted I need to do this on my own—to clear my head, spend some time in my own thoughts and decide what I’m going to do about Ryan.

When I arrive at the airport, I’m thankful my flight to Denver is on time—no delays. I’m not a big fan of flying, but my trip is smooth and quick.

“Welcome to Denver, Colorado,” the pilot says over the airplane’s speaker system. “It’s eighty degrees. Thanks for flying with us.”

When I step off the airplane, I’m greeted with a clear sky and a light breeze. The air is so dry—not the humidity I’m used to in Texas.

This is going to be a good weekend. You’re going to make it a good weekend.

Besides the flight, meals, and hotel, I’m also treated to a rental car. I stash my bags in the trunk, open my email, and follow the directions to my hotel.

When I arrive at the hotel, I’m captivated by the art deco exterior—the doors, the windows, the decorative tile.

I step through the door and into the massive—what the brochure describes as a—depot, my brain is on overload. Soaring ceilings and sky-high chandeliers plus multiple levels can be seen from where I stand. This floor is filled with leather furniture—couches, chairs, and even shuffleboards. Dining and entertainment establishments are sprinkled throughout the first floor. The second and third floors are guest rooms. I approach the counter and give the gentleman my name.

“You’ll be in room 207, Ms. Crandall. Please wait while I summon for a bellhop.”

“A bellhop?” I chuckle. “No thank you. I can manage,” I say with a grin. Not necessarily being comfortable with a bellhop assisting me probably screams social naivety, but the thought of a man needing to help me with my single suitcase almost makes me giggle. I’ve obviously not spent enough time in high-end hotels.

“Part of our service,” he says as he hands me my room key, which isn’t the plastic card that I’ve become accustomed to while staying in motels. This is an extra-large brass key with an intricate design similar to a skeleton key that would open an antique cabinet.

“This is my room key?” I ask as I examine the vintage-looking brass.

He smiles. “It is.”

“Cool. Very unique.”

“A timeless style indeed, but you’ll find your room with all the modern amenities you would get at any other five-star hotel.” He hands me a brochure. “Here’s some information with things to do while you’re in Denver as well as the history of the hotel and how we might serve you and make your stay with us a pleasant one.”

“Thank you.” I turn to see a man who appears to be in his late 60s wearing a bellhop’s uniform, which causes me to do a doubletake. My mouth falls open. The uniform is exactly as one would imagine from the period—black pants, a red jacket with shiny gold buttons, and polished black patent leather shoes.

They weren’t kidding when they said it’s a timeless style.

This is so much fun and of course, my mind is already formulating all of the cool photos I could take while I’m here. So glad I grabbed my camera bag. I can already picture vintage wall sconces, the bellhop—if I can manage to photograph him at work—all done in black and white.

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