Page 10 of Hensley Manor
What were the odds of having the airline be the same name as the antique store where the snow globe came from? With shaky hands, I called the number.
“Treasures of Old Airways,” a woman answered. Her voice was strangely familiar.
“Hi, my name is Cole Wiley, and I…well, I guess I flew on your airline last night? My luggage was lost.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Wiley. I remember you.”
“You do?” Damn, that’s a relief. I was afraid they were going to say they had never heard of me.
“Yes, sir. I remember you just fine.”
“Okay, great. I—”
“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?”
The relief faded just as quickly as it appeared, and unease took its place. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’m looking for my luggage. That’s all.”
“Is it?” she asked.
“Y-yes. Any word on where it could be?”
“Enjoy your stay at Hensley Manor, Mr. Wiley,” she said, instead of answering my question. “I hope you find what you’re looking for this Christmas.”
The call disconnected.
Feeling a surge of panic beginning to form in my chest, I decided to call Lance. I needed to figure out what the hell was going on. His was the only number I had ever memorized besides my own, and I typed it in before hitting the call button.
“Hello?” a male voice answered.
It didn’t sound like Lance.
“Yeah, uh, hey. Is Lance around?”
“Who?”
“Lance,” I repeated, as the wave of panic spread. “This is Cole. I need to talk to him.”
“There’s no Lance here. You have the wrong number, buddy.”
He hung up.
I checked the number I had dialed, reading each number slowly. It was definitely the right one. Lance had had the same number for years. I felt like I was in an episode ofThe Twilight Zone. I walked over to Ian and handed him the phone.
“Did you get it sorted?” he asked.
“Not really. They don’t have any news on it yet.”
“If you feel up to it later, I could take you to town so you can pick up a few things. At least until your bag is found.”
I was beginning to think a bag would never be found, though. Because this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
“That’d be great,” I responded, doing my best to hide my growing panic.
Back in my room, I closed the door and leaned against it. My head was spinning. I was in a town I’d never heard of, staying in a manor I’d first seen in a snow globe, and I couldn’t even talk to my best friend to help me figure it all out. I hoped I would wake up any moment on my couch. Heck, I’d even settle for the horrible hangover that followed. Just anything that put some familiarity back into my life, because this shit was messed up.
Spotting a door to the right, I opened it and stepped inside a small, but nice, bathroom. The ambiance of the lights on the walls, giving off a warm glow, made the room homey. There was no shower, but rather, one of those deep clawfoot tubs that looked big enough to hold two people. I wondered if that was the point. I was sure couples were usually the ones who traveled to these types of places.
I started a bath and placed the stopper once the water heated.
