Comedy of Erinn by Celia Bonaduce

there was a gym on the premises, and the Inn was attached to a shopping center. If you bargained hard, said Carlos, the management would throw in a microwave and mini refrigerator. Erinn listened politely, but she knew old cities like Philadelphia had too many fantastic historic hotels to get stuck in a “chain.”
    After painstaking research, Erinn had chosen Nortown House, a historic landmark that looked well appointed but also had all the modern conveniences a production crew might need—high-speed Internet access, FedEx delivery and pickup, and continental breakfast. The hotel also served afternoon tea, but Erinn knew that wouldn’t be a selling point for the people with whom she was traveling. Still, it appealed to her, and maybe she could gently issue in a calm afternoon or two. As she looked around, she was relieved to see that the hotel lobby was even more impressive than she had hoped. She knew that Gilroi and Carlos were probably already checked in, and she imagined their satisfaction at Erinn’s selection.
    Jude let out a groan as the warm air hit them.
    â€œGak! It’s boiling in here,” he said, shedding coat, gloves, and scarf.
    â€œDon’t complain. You’re going to be spending days on end in a log cabin at Valley Forge, don’t forget.”
    Jude followed her to the check-in desk. Erinn got out her freshly minted company credit card and handed it to the woman behind the desk, who wore a discreet name tag. It said merely Susan . Erinn was relieved to see that. She was not a big fan of informational name tags, such as SUSAN in large letters and Mexico City in smaller letters underneath. Apparently, some advertising agency or customer service survey deemed it important to add the clerk’s city of origin as a way of—what? Bonding? But if you weren’t from Mexico City, which most people weren’t, what difference could this possibly make to anyone?
    If informational name tags annoyed her, she positively detested the sprightly Hi, my name is Susan. Use your words, Erinn would think every time she glanced at one of those cheerful placards.
    â€œHello, Ms. Wolf. Welcome to the Nortown House Hotel,” Susan said. “I have you on the second floor, as you requested.”
    Erinn had not specifically asked for the second floor, merely a lower floor—she hated elevators—but she let that go.
    â€œFacing east?” asked Erinn.
    The management-course smile on the young clerk froze into place.
    â€œEast?”
    â€œYes, east,” said Erinn. “When I called, I specifically asked for a room with a sunrise view.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Jude said.
    Jude bumped Erinn to the side. She was ready to take umbrage with his knight-in-shining-armor routine. It was one thing to wait with her and the luggage, but this was quite another. She was the producer! She could handle this herself!
    â€œI can see this is going to take some time to get straightened out,” Jude said to the clerk. “So if you can just tell me where my room is . . . my name is Jude Raphael . . . you can get back to the eastern-facing room in a minute.”
    Erinn kept her face composed. She’d made bigger miscalculations in her life. She thought about Massimo, and how he would never barge in front of woman for any reason. Jude suddenly turned from his transaction and looked at her incredulously.
    â€œThere’s no gym here,” he said.
    â€œThat’s correct,” Erinn replied.
    â€œYou booked us into a hotel with no gym ?”
    â€œThis hotel is a historic landmark, Jude,” Erinn said. “You have to give up some of the less important things for atmosphere.”
    â€œIs that so? Well, Ms. Producer, you haven’t been on any of these twelve-hour-a-day shoots before, so I’ll ignore your snarcastic attitude. But a gym is a necessity, not a luxury. You’ll see.”
    Erinn watched Jude as he went up the staircase two steps at