Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
He stood at the counter and fiddled with the jar of pens that sat there, hoping the noise would encourage the night clerk to come out from the back office. When that didn’t work, he tapped his fingers and coughed, and even hummed loudly. The clerk finally emerged, wiping his face as he came out of the office. Kent mentally kicked himself for being obnoxious and interrupting the man’s dinner.
“How can I help you?” the clerk asked when he stepped up to the terminal.
“Sorry for coming in so late or early. I have a reservation, but it doesn’t start for a couple of more days. Our plans changed, and we arrived early. I’m hoping you have a room available?”
“Let me see,” he said as he began typing. There was a lot of mouse clicking, typing, and some sass as the computer froze. All of which gave Kent zero hope that the hotel had a free room. “I have a room now, but it’s booked tomorrow.”
Kent groaned.
“What I can do is put you in the room now and move you to the suite, if you don’t mind paying, and then put you in the standard room for your existing reservation. I know it’s a lot of moving, but that’s the best I can do.”
“That’s fine, we’ll take it.”
“Very well, I’ll just need to see your driver’s license and a credit card.” Kent fished his wallet out of his back pocket and handed over his credentials. “What brings you to town early?”
“My . . .” Kent paused and thought about how he should title Palmer. “Travel companion” seemed wrong, as did “friend.”
“My partner and I are doing a bucket list tour sort of thing, and she wanted to skip NYC and come to the nation’s capital early.”
“Oh, that sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to write a bucket list.”
“Do it now, before it’s too late.” The clerk’s eyes shot up to meet Kent’s. He shrugged and said, “She’s dying. Nonoperable brain tumor.”
The clerk shuddered. “I’m so sorry.”
Kent nodded. He was sorry too. He didn’t want to lose her now that he knew her.
“I put you in the suite,” the clerk said. “You won’t have to move or pay the additional fees. I’ve comped tonight and tomorrow and will have my manager adjust your other two nights. If there’s anything you need, press the front desk button on the phone, and we’ll get it. Room service is twenty-four hours. There’s a pool, hot tub, and gym available, and the breakfast buffet starts at six.” The clerk handed Kent his key cards. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you for your generosity.” Kent pocketed his ID and credit card and slipped the room keys into his front pocket. He got back to the Jeep and found Palmer still asleep, which surprised him. He found a parking spot, got out, and went to the back to get her wheelchair. She would need a good half hour of alertness before she’d be able to walk, and he didn’t want her sleeping in the car anymore.
Kent opened her door and gently woke her, and a very groggy Palmer put her arm around Kent’s shoulder when he scooped her into his arms. “Are we here?” she asked.
“Yep, at the hotel now.”
“I’m starving.”
Kent’s steps faltered slightly. He had never heard her say those words before, but they elated him. Since he’d struggled to get her to eat, he was prepared to get her some protein shakes or other supplements to help give her some strength.
“What would you like?” he asked her. Kent set Palmer down in her wheelchair and covered her lap with a blanket. The chill in the air made him shiver, and he couldn’t imagine how it made her feel. She’d lost a lot of weight since he’d first met her. He pushed her toward the lobby and hunched over her to encourage an answer. “I’m waiting.”
Palmer tilted her body so she could see Kent and rolled her eyes. “You must be so happy.”
“I am. Now tell me what you want to eat so I can order it.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Highly unlikely. I’m elated,” he told her. “Overjoyed.”
“I want chicken nuggets from Mickey D’s. Honestly, I want a Happy Meal.”
She was right; he did want to laugh, and now that she’d said it, he sort of wanted one as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a toy with a meal. No one remembered when they went from the kids’ menu to the adult menu at their favorite fast-food place. Sure, the sign said they were for children aged twelve and under, but who followed that rule? And how come there wasn’t a ceremony or some recognition when you graduated from the small section on the right side of the menu to the large one on the left? Palmer was spot on for suggesting a Happy Meal.