Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [41]
"Good. Perfect. What time were you thinking? Three? Four?"
"Let's say four. I'll call you around three thirty and we'll pick a spot."
"Fine." Ann turned and waltzed back into the crowd, greeting fans along the way. She'd never been athletic like Jessie, but she moved with a fluid grace that was a bit mesmerizing.
He slogged back toward his hotel and stopped to look at the Three Peaks Bakery. Closed. A sign said the building was constructed in the mid-1920s. In the window were three apple fritters that looked like they needed a home.
He patted his stomach. Jessie and he used to have an apple fritter night two or three times a year where they'd gorge themselves on the treats and curse their decision the next day.
Had Jessie done the same thing with Ann when they roomed together in college? Probably. He turned and trudged on. Five days already in Three Peaks. And little to show for it.
"I'm not getting much of anywhere, Jess. You think a fritter could make me feel better?"
By the time he stepped into the lobby of the Best Western, his legs wobbled. His exhaustion was more emotional than physical, but his body still felt like he'd spent the day climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
He fumbled in his front pants pocket for his hotel card and couldn't locate it. Where . . . ? Right. Back pocket. Cameron pulled it out and stared at the green stripe.
What was his room number? 304? 324? Think! He popped himself in the forehead twice with his fist. He looked over at the hotel's night host who stared at him with raised eyebrows.
Why couldn't he just ask the night guy behind the counter? No, he'd figure it out; he just needed to stop thinking about it for minute. He glanced around the lobby for a distraction.
A rack of brochures next to the check-in desk caught his eye. He wandered over to it and found leaflets that boasted of guided hikes that would fascinate him, a Bavarian Village fifty miles down the road that would fill him with unforgettable memories, white-water rafting that was the "trip of a lifetime" and world-class golf courses that promised to "Take you away from it all." He was ready to be taken away from it all and checked into a new life. One with a brain that wasn't missing a spark plug or three. Where do I sign up?
After five minutes of pretending he was reading the brochures, he broke down and approached the front desk. "Hey, can you remind me what room I'm in? Too many hotels in too many weeks and all the numbers start to blend together."
"No problem, Mr. Vaux."
Eschewing the elevators, he took the stairs to the second floor, the whole way fingering the rock Susan Hillman had given him. He rolled the cool, almost cold surface of the stone around his palm and stared at its intricate pattern of red lines, each one ending at a black spot on the stone. It was comforting.
On impulse he pulled Jessie's stone out from under his shirt and held the two stones side by side. They looked good together. Jessie had said her stone was a key, but he had no idea what that meant. He'd shown the stone to three northwest historians just before he left Seattle, but none of them had any idea what the markings were. If it was a key to finding the book, he needed some way to locate the door.
When he reached his floor and finally his door, he stuffed his card into the lock and pulled it out. The green light flared. He pushed the door handle and trudged into his room, not bothering to turn on the light. All he wanted was for sleep to consume him.
Let me escape. Sleep come quick, okay?
As soon as he plopped onto the russet bedspread, he jerked back up and rubbed his neck. A sharp corner of something had poked him. He fumbled for the light on the nightstand and snapped it on. A square dark maroon envelope held a thick red card inside. As he slid the card free, he couldn't help but think of Ann. She'd worn a maroon polo shirt at Jason's gathering. A great color on her.
My dearest Mr. Cameron,
I hope you have enjoyed our hospitality during your short visit to our town. If you don't leave within the next day,