Page 6 of Pity Present

It’s your big sis! How is it? Are you there?

And …

BS:

Where are you? Call me!

I type a quick response letting her know I’ve arrived and promise more details once I get settled. Glancing at Blake, I watch as he takes his keycard. I’d better get moving so he doesn’t think that I’ve been waiting for him—which obviously, I have been. I stop short when the clerk announces, “The first singles’ event takes place tomorrow night at five, Mr. Walsh. Make sure you’re in the great room on time. Miss Rockwell has a lot of fun activities planned.”

Singles’ event?He’s here for a singles’ event? Not only does he not look like the type who needs help dating, but I didn’t sense any “bachelor on the prowl” vibes from him. And believe me, I would have noticed.

“Thank you.” Blake sounds like he couldn’t care less. Then he maneuvers around me and walks toward the elevator.

My feet finally start to move until I’m nearly sprinting after him. I follow him into the elevator and watch as he pushes the button for the second floor. I want to ask about the singles’ event, but I don’t want to come across as nosy. Also, what would I say?I’m single, too!I’m sure that wouldn’t come as a shock.

I nearly giggle out loud as another possible comment comes to mind, but there’s no way I’m going to say it out loud. At least that’s what I tell myself. So, imagine my surprise when I declare, “Look at us, two single, non-lumberjacks, staying at the same hotel.”

Blake turns his head slowly until he’s looking down at me. With what appears to be bionic effort, he forces a smile, but the overall impression is not one of joviality. It’s more of a constipated grin. “Yes,” he says. “Look at us.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BLAKE

Getting off the elevator, I scan the wall for an arrow pointing in the direction of my room. I turn right as soon as I spot it. The odd woman from the train is still behind me when I stop at room 215. That’s when I discover she’s staying right next door to me. It’s not that I don’t find her attractive, because I do, but I’m here on a loathsome assignment which has completely soured my mood. I’m here to write about pathetic singles and not act like one of them by trying to pick up the first person I meet.

I tap my keycard against the lock mechanism, and as soon as the light turns green, I open the door and walk inside. The room isn’t huge, but it’s big enough to hold a large, four-poster bed and the standard hotel room furnishings of a chest of drawers, a TV stand, nightstands, and a small round table by the window.

The dark browns of the furniture are complimented by the wide-ribbed, dark green, corduroy bedspread. The curtains match the duvet and look as soft as newborn sheep. The whole set up makes me feel like the lord of the manor and I’m not complaining. My current mode of home decorating—just the basics—not only lacks finesse but lends the impression that I’m still in college.

I leave my suitcase in the small hallway next to the bathroom before checking to see what the bathing situation is. I’m a shower guy, but one look at the deep copper bathtub, and I’m seriously considering changing my ways. This whole lodge seems to be the perfect backdrop for romance.

After taking off my coat and hanging it up, I open the desk drawer and find the room service menu. There’s no sense going down to the gallows a night before I have to. Scanning the offerings, I decide to get a cheeseburger and fries, but before I can place my order, I hear a knocking sound.Who in the world could that be?

Opening the door, I discover Molly standing there holding a basket full of pears, wine, and what appears to be truffles—although from where I’m standing, they look more like poop emojis. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to seduce me. “Hello?”

“Hi,” she says which signals a bloom of color to stain her cheeks. Holding out the basket, she offers, “I think this is yours.”

“You’ve brought me a food basket?”

“Yes. No. It was in my room.”

I turn around and scan my surroundings. “Maybe I got one, too.”

“I don’t think it’s from the hotel,” she says.

I face her again before taking the proffered basket. Sure enough, there’s an envelope with my name typed on the front. I turn around and put the container on the console table before pulling out the note.

Blake,

You’re a real champ for doing this. Now go have some fun. Who knows, you might get lucky and come back to Chicago a nice guy.

Gillian

Wow, a thoughtful gesture and rude comment all wrapped up into one. Putting the note down, I open the clear plastic box holding the chocolates. Then I pop one into my mouth. They’re chocolate-covered cherries, but not the sickly-sweet kind they used to sell in those pharmacy chains when I was a kid. These are brandied cherries covered in a high-quality dark chocolate. They’re sensational.

“Oh, dear,” my neighbor gasps, as I release a groan of pleasure. Molly looks like she’s about to faint.

I quickly retrace my steps until I’m once again standing in front of her. “Thanks for bringing the basket over.”

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