Page 11 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
The hotel feels enormous, too big for my little shoulders. It’s cold and grand and outdated, and I can tell everyone in here is waiting for me to do something.
The marble floors are dull, chipped in places where guests have worn them down over the years. The chandeliers, though impressive in size, flicker now and then, casting a dim, unsure glow on the faded upholstery.
The carpet by the front desk has more stains than I can count, and I can’t help but think it’s a wonder anyone still comes here.
I don’t even know where to start.
Tinsel is nestled into the crook of my arm, making my walk through the space even more awkward. I can tell she knows I need comfort but is too judgmental to give it.
She gives me a little meow of disapproval as I pass the front desk. And of course, that’s when I spot Dex.
He’s practically floating behind the concierge desk, radiating sarcasm and camp, his fingers already drumming on the counter. He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow when he sees me and flashes a grin that could probably disarm a tank.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the new boss lady,” he says, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “How’s the world of hotelownership treating you? Have you already found your first ‘project,’ or are you just letting it all fall apart naturally?”
I give him a half smile, grateful for his lightheartedness.
“It’s… going.” I hold up my hands. “You know, the usual. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure you’re just fine,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “After all, this place is falling apart in the most glamorous way possible. You must work with it. The leaks are, like, architectural features at this point.”
I laugh weakly, then glance around. The lobby seems to hum with energy, but there’s something off about it. Some subtle tension I can’t quite place.
Dex leans in a little closer, as if he’s about to share a juicy bit of gossip. “Listen, we’re all here to help you, whatever you need. I know it’s going to be hard, but you can do it.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugs, giving me a wink. “I might not be a miracle worker, but I’ll do what I can.”
His words stick with me as I head out of the lobby, Tinsel’s fluffy tail flicking with disapproval at the odd stillness of the hotel’s atmosphere. She’s used to my small apartment in Three Oaks, but we need to find a way to adjust.
One way or another.
I just need to make a decision, to breathe some new life into this place.
I step into one of the hallways, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet as I walk down a corridor that hasn’t seen a new coat of paint since… maybe ever.
The faded velvet chairs against the wall and the chipped wooden frames around portraits of people I don’t recognize all add to the feeling that this place was once alive, brimming with laughter and conversation.
And now, it’s just quiet.
The silence is so undeniably haunting. I can tell the hotel has memories tucked into every nook and cranny, whispering things I can’t hear yet but feel in my bones. And I can’t help but think there’s still a glimmer of something magical here.
Maybe it’s my imagination. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I really, really want to believe in something good.
I wander into a small, dusty office off the side of the hallway, one I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. The old desk is cluttered with papers and faded files. A few empty teacups sit on the edge of the desk, and I notice a strange collection of holiday ornaments.
As I rummage through the drawers, hoping to find anything useful, my fingers brush against something tucked behind a stack of papers.
It’s an old leather-bound journal.
I pull it out, turning it over in my hands. The pages are yellowed with age, and the scent of old paper and cinnamon lingers. I sit down in one of the chairs and begin flipping through it.
The handwriting is unmistakable.
Aunt Evie’s.
I smile, remembering the few times I’d visited her here. She always had a twinkle in her eye when she spoke about the hotel. It was her gorgeous little world that Ilovedto visit.
