Page 43 of Unexpected Pickle
“Goodnight, Hex.”
We look at each other. It feels like the end of a date, as if maybe we should kiss goodnight.
Good gracious, I’m staring at his lips!
And he’s looking at mine.
Should I? Should we?
Am I feeling that?
It’s different from how I felt in the pantry with Moreau. I didn’t want him making a move.
Do I want Hex to?
Maybe.
But he gives me a nod and turns away.
Right. Of course. It’s not happening. Why did I think something was happening?
I close the door and lean against it.
It’s been an eventful day.
I drop my phone and key card on the dresser. I want out of these chef whites, into some sweats, and maybe I’ll make a fire myself.
I consider taking a hot shower to warm up, but the idea of having wet hair gives me the shivers, so I simply change. I put my phone on the charger and sit in front of the fireplace, examining the gas starter. I saw Hex do it. I can figure it out.
Like in his room, there is a set of firewood on the grate, plus additional logs in a rack beside the hearth. I stick the key in the hole and turn it, hearing the rush of gas. Then I push the ignite button and the flames whoosh around the logs.
I sit back, pleased with myself. I’m not hungry after gorging on snacks all evening. And I have an untouched mini-fridge.
I’m about to plug in my phone to charge when I hear a strange beep.
Then the power goes out.
I’m plunged into darkness, then my eyes adjust to the firelight. Thank goodness I already started it.
I wait a moment to see if the power will come back on, if there’s a backup generator, or if it was a glitch.
But nothing happens.
I wait a few minutes, then pick up the room phone to see if it works without power.
Nope. Dead.
I look up the phone number of the hotel and call it from my cell.
I get a perky voicemail message. “You have reached Hotel Menagerie. We are so glad to hear from you. Leave us a message and we’ll return your call within one business day.”
One business day! I hang up, using my phone as a light to see if I can find a number to the front desk.
A small card by the phone gives the extension of the lobby, but that doesn’t help. All the other numbers are the one I just called. There was no option to dial zero. Is this a Canadian thing or have the phones gone into some emergency no-power mode?
I peer out the front window. The lamps that lighted the paths are all out. The lobby is dark, so they must not have electricity either.
But there’s a faint glow somewhere inside.
