Page 5 of Hidden in Memories
Paul instinctively dislikes the guy, but he pushes back his dark hair and consults his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone else approaching the desk—a woman in her fifties, marching toward him with confidence. She is wearing leisure gear, but Paul can see that her purse costs more than he earns in a month.
He knows exactly who she is. Her name is Charlotte Wretlind, and she has stayed at the hotel many times over the past year. She stays in Silver Suite on the top floor, one of their most expensive and most elegant suites, with triple-aspect windows.
“Excuse me,” she says angrily, ignoring the other guests. “I’ve been calling housekeeping for the last fifteen minutes, but no one is answering!”
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Paul says. “I just need to finish checking in this family.”
Perhaps he ought to be more apologetic, but her attitude is too much. Can’t she see that he’s doing his best?
“I’ve been out all day, and yet the waste bin in my bathroom hasn’t been emptied,” she complains. “And there’s no toilet tissue!”
She doesn’t seem to have heard a word that Paul said. And she is standing way too close. When he instinctively steps back, she leans forward instead of taking the hint.
He manages to control himself, but herr Aavik is clearly annoyed with Charlotte Wretlind.
“You need to wait your turn!”
She ignores him and continues to harangue Paul. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
She has raised her voice, and a few of the other guests are looking in her direction. Paul’s colleague Iris glances up from her screen, where she is entering someone’s details.
Paul hesitates, he doesn’t want a scene when they’re so busy, but he can see that herr Aavik is frowning. In Sweden people wait in line, and he clearly thinks that Charlotte shouldn’t be pushing in.
And it is Paul’s job to make sure she doesn’t do that.
He grits his teeth and finishes registering the family’s key card. The two-year-old is grizzling now. The mother picks up the child and tries to console her, while giving her husband an inquiring look.
“If you’re not capable of sorting this out, then I want to speak to your line manager,” Charlotte demands. “And I’ll take the opportunity to discuss your behavior with him.”
There is no mistaking the threat. And Paul needs to keep this job, despite the fact that he is surrounded by idiots. The pandemic took a harsh toll on the hotel industry, and he knows he’s been lucky not to fall victim to the cutbacks.
“Give me a couple of minutes,” he murmurs apologetically.
Charlotte’s expression is icy. Paul sees Iris roll her eyes at his inability to handle the situation better. She is from Stockholm, a dyed-in-the-wool know-it-all. He is in no doubt that she is enjoying seeing him struggle.
“Are you deaf?” Charlotte raises her voice even more. “I have no toilet tissue in my room! Can you please sort this out?”
Herr Aavik has had enough. “I was here first!” he snaps.
Charlotte waves her hand impatiently. She might have plenty of money, but she clearly has no manners.
“How long are you going to keep me waiting?” she barks at Paul.
He hears a howl as the two-year-old begins to cry in her mother’s arms. She twists and turns, determined to escape, and flings both arms wide. Unfortunately she makes contact with a tall vase filled with pussy willow and apricot-colored feathers that is standing in the middle of the reception desk.
Before Paul can react, the vase wobbles and crashes to the floor.
The mother just manages to jump out of the way, clutching her little girl.
“For God’s sake!” she yells at Paul. “How can you have something so dangerous on display? What if it had fallen on my daughter?”
“She could have died!” the child’s father pipes up. “What is wrong with you people?”
Paul feels the sweat break out on his forehead. He can’t breathe behind his mask. He stares at the shattered vase, unable to decide whether to deal with it immediately or to complete the check-in.
Needless to say, Iris doesn’t lift a finger to help.
Everyone is staring at Paul.
