Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You can see that?”
“Anyone with a license to sell real estate can see that.” He pushes off the counter and walks over to my cart. Taking one of the postcards we leave in the rooms from the stack on top, he hands it to me. “Jot down the address.”
Taking the pen I have stuck in the bun on top of my head, I write it quickly while he stands over me and watches.
“When did you last speak to your real estate agent?”
I look up at him. He’s so close that I can see the deep-blue ring around his eyes that now look almost green in the light coming in from the door. “I called a few days ago to see if he’s had any showings or any calls. He told me he hasn’t.”
With a nod that seems all business, he takes the card from me and shoves it into his pocket. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Thank you.”
“How much longer do you have here?” he asks, ignoring my thanks, which I’m starting to see is another habit of his.
“I have about ten more rooms, then a dinner break before I need to get to the bar for my shift.”
“If I don’t catch you between then and now, I’ll tell you what I find tonight when you get off work.”
I open my mouth to tell him thank you again, but before I can even get a word out, he’s gone.
As I’m shaking my head at the empty doorway, the walkie hanging on the side of my cart buzzes to life, and Ernest’s voice cracks through the small speaker. “Elora, can you come to the office please?”
Picking it up, I hold down the button on the side. “Yep, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” Quickly, so I won’t have to do it when I get done talking to him, I finish loading my cart, then leave the room, shutting the door behind me.
The walk to the main office only takes me a couple of minutes, and when I step inside, I move around the people gathered around the front desk, waiting to be checked in or out. Waving at Molly, who works the front desk, I get her returned smile as I head toward Ernest’s private office.
I knock once, getting his quiet “come in” before I open the door. When I walk into the room, I notice a very pretty blonde a couple of years older than me sitting in the chair across from him at his desk.
“Hey, Elora.” Ernest smiles warmly, then waves a hand to the woman across from him. “This is Beth. She’s going to be taking over your job when you leave.”
My stomach drops even though I knew this would be happening. I haven’t mentally prepared myself for this moment. It feels like I’m being shoved out of the safest place I’ve been in a long time, even though I’m the one who told him I would be leaving.
“Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand to her.
“You too.” She gives me a nervous smile as she takes it.
Letting her hand go, I lower myself into the chair next to hers.
“I know you’re still working out what day next week you will be leaving,” he adds, and God, I hate the way my stomach feels. “But I wanted Beth here early so she can follow you around for the next few days and get the lay of the land.”
“Awesome.” My smile is forced.
“How many more rooms do you have left today?”
“Ten. Four of them are guests who asked for a late checkout, and the rest are just ones I need to straighten up.”
“Do you mind if she jumps in today?”
“Of course not.” I glance over at her and give her a genuine smile. My anxiety has nothing to do with her, and I don’t want to make her think that it does.
“Great,” Ernest says, then he focuses on Beth. “Can you give us a couple of minutes? When I’m done talking to Elora, she’ll come out and get you.”
“Sure.” She stands, then scoots around me to go to the door. When she’s gone, and the door is closed behind her, Ernest turns in his chair and opens a desk drawer, pulling out a large envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask when he passes it over to me.
“Just a little something to help you along your journey. You can open it.” He adds the last part when he sees me hesitate.
I’ve always felt uncomfortable opening gifts or things people give me in front of them. I’m always worried I won’t react the way they expect, and they’ll be disappointed—or worse, think I don’t appreciate the gift. Slowly, I rip open the top of the envelope, then stick my hand inside, pulling out a stack of papers.
Going through them one by one, it takes me a second to realize I’m looking at several gift vouchers for numerous hotels, along with a AAA membership and a few printed-out gift cards for fast-food restaurants. None of them are more than ten dollars each, but ten dollars at a fast-food chain can get one person a whole meal.