Sweep in Peace
It was a perfect evening to snuggle up with a book, play a video game, or watch TV. Except I wanted to do none of those things. I’ve been snuggling up with a book, playing video games, or watching TV every night for the last six months with only my dog, my inn, and its lone guest for company and I was a bit tired of it.
Caldenia exited the kitchen, carrying her cup of tea. She looked to be in her sixties, beautiful, elegant, and cloaked in an air of experience. If you saw her on the street in New York or London, you’d think she was a lady of high society whose days were filled with brunches with friends and charity auctions. Her Grace, Caldenia ka ret Magren was indeed high society, except she preferred world domination to friendly brunches and mass murder to charity. Thankfully those days were behind her.
On this evening she wore a sweeping kimono the color of rose wine with gold accents. It flared as she walked, giving her thin figure a suitably regal air. Her silver hair, usually artfully arranged on her head into a flattering hairdo, drooped slightly. Her makeup looked a little smudged and just a hair short of her typical impeccable perfection. The rain was getting to her as well.
She cleared her throat.
What now? “Your Grace?”
“Dina, I’m bored,” Caldenia announced.
Too bad. I guaranteed her safety, not her entertainment. “What about your game?”
Her Grace gave me a shrug. “I’ve beaten it five times on the Deity setting. I’ve reduced Paris to ashes, because Napoleon annoyed me. I’ve eradicated Gandhi. I’ve crushed George Washington. Empress Wu had potential, so I eliminated her before we ever cleared Bronze Age. The Egyptians are my pawns. I dominate the planet. Oddly, I find myself mildly fascinated by Genghis Khan. A shrewd and savage warrior, possessing a certain magnetism. I left him with a single city and I periodically make ridiculous demands which I know he can’t meet so I can watch him squirm.”
She liked him, so she was torturing him. Her Grace in a nutshell. “What Civilization did you choose?”
“Rome, of course. Any title other than Empress would be unacceptable. That’s not the point. The point, my dear, is that our lives are beginning to feel dreadfully dull. The last guest we had was two months ago.”
She was preaching to the converted. Gertrude Hunt required guests, for financial and other reasons. They were the lifeblood of the inn. Caldenia helped some, but for the inn to thrive, we needed guests, if not a steady stream, then a large party. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get those guests. Once upon a time, Gertrude Hunt sat on a crossroads of a busy road, but decades passed, the world had changed, the roads shifted, and now Red Deer, Texas was a small town in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t get much traffic.
“Would you like me to pass out fliers on the corner, Your Grace?”
“Do you think it would help you drum up business?”
“Probably not.”
“Well then, that answers your question. Don’t get snippy, Dina, it really doesn’t become you.”
She glided up the stairs, her kimono waving behind her like a mantle.
I needed tea. Tea would make everything better.
I went to the kitchen and reached for the cup to make myself some tea. My left foot landed in something cold and wet. I looked down. A small yellow puddle greeted me. Well, doesn’t that just take the cake?
“Beast!”
My tiny Shih-tzu dashed into the kitchen, her black and white fur waving like a battle flag. She saw my foot in the puddle. Her brain decided to beat a hasty retreat, but her body still kept going. She tripped over her own paws and smacked head first into the island.
“What is this?” I pointed to the puddle.
Beast flipped onto her feet, slunk behind the island, and poked her head out, looking guilty.
“You have a perfectly good doggie door. I don’t care if it’s raining, you go outside.”
Beast slunk about some more and whined.
Magic chimed, a soft not-quite sound only I could hear – the inn letting me know we had guests.
Visitors!
Beast exploded into barks, zooming around the island in excited circles. I hopped on one foot to the kitchen sink, stuck my foot under water, and washed my hands and my foot with soap. The floor under the puddle split, forming a narrow gap. Tile flowed like water and the offending puddle disappeared. The floor resealed itself. I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, ran to the front door, Beast bounding at my heels, and swung it open.
A white Ford Explorer was parked in the driveway. Through the screen door I saw a man in the driver seat. A woman sat next to him. Behind them two smaller heads moved back and forth – kids in the back seat, probably stir-crazy after a long trip. A nice family. I reached forward with my magic.
Oh.
I thought the chime didn’t sound quite right.
The man got out and ran to the front door, shielding his glasses from the rain with his hand and stopped under the porch roof. About thirty five, he looked like a typical suburban dad: jeans, T-shirt, and the slightly desperate expression of someone who had been in a car with small children for a several hours.
“Hi!” he said. “I’d like to rent a room.”
This is exactly why Gertrude Hunt had no listed phone number and no online listing. We weren’t on any tourist brochures. How did they even find us? “I’m sorry, we have no vacancy.”
He blinked. “What do you mean, you have no vacancy? It looks like a big house and there are no cars in the driveway.”
“I’m sorry, we have no vacancy.”