to the sound of rain splatting against the windows. Thunder rumbled overhead and a crack of lightning illuminated the room. She looked at the clock. “Ten after seven.”
Harriet dressed. She chose a pullover shirt and the blue capris she had packed. Her new jeans needed washing, so she folded them tightly and shoved them into the suitcase. She would rather have worn the jeans and now wished she had bought two pair, but the capris would have to do until she could purchase another pair of jeans and sneakers. Most definitely sneakers. Her leather shoes had become almost impossible to wear. And even though her ankle was fully healed, it still ached from time to time — especially when it rained.
Harriet finished brushing her hair and teeth. She packed away everything she had taken out of her suitcase and tote and then made her way to the hotel lobby. First things first. Harriet desperately needed a pair of sneakers. She found the concierge desk, but he wasn’t there.
Harriet waited and waited until her stomach grumbled and she decided that breakfast was in order. The hotel restaurant was just the place. She ordered a hearty breakfast on account of today was a big traveling day. She wanted to make it clear across North Carolina in search of wide-open skies and stars.
The server brought her a plate of scrambled eggs, grits, toast, and a cup of fresh fruit consisting of strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, and watermelon.
“This looks lovely,” she said. “But could I have a little whipped cream on my fruit, please?”
“Of course,” her server said, taking the fruit cup.
“Thank you.”
Harriet liked the look of her server. A tall, graceful young woman who in Harriet’s estimation was working hard for somereason — maybe she was putting herself through school, maybe she was a single mom trying to support her family. Harriet’s imagination had a tendency to run away with her. It would be best to ask.
The waitress returned with Harriet’s fruit. The large white mountain of whipped cream made Harriet and the server smile.
“Ah, looks great,” Harriet said.
“Thank you. My name is Grace, if you need anything else.”
“I knew it,” Harriet said. “I was just telling myself that you are a graceful young woman.”
The woman looked away.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Harriet said. “I know a hard worker when I see one. And one with your grace and style and sweetness. Well, it’s just such a welcome commodity these days.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Grace said.
“Your momma knew what she was doing when she named you. If I took a guess I’d say you’re a dancer.”
Grace smiled so wide Harriet thought her face might crack. “Yes, I am. I’m a ballet dancer. At least I’m trying to be. Trouble is, grace and style, ballet, don’t pay the bills, no matter how hard I practice.”
Harriet swallowed the little bit of egg she held in her mouth. “No kidding. Well, that’s just the sweetest thing. I love the ballet.”
“I’m dancing in
Swan Lake
tonight in a recital at my school. I’d love for you to come. We’re raising money to get the troupe to Spain.”
“Really? Spain? Well, I don’t know if I can make it tonight. I’m traveling clear across North Carolina on my way to California. But I’ll see what I can do.”
Harriet finished her meal, and Grace returned with the check. “Thank you,” Grace said. “Have a nice trip.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” Harriet left a sizable tip and a note.
“Dear Grace. Dance your heart away. Have fun in Spain.”
Henry sat at his desk before dawn, Humphrey at his feet. He had been unable to sleep as he wrestled with his story.
“Apparently, Humphrey, the muse has left the building.”
Humphrey whined.
“I know, I know,” Henry said. “It’s not about inspiration. It’s about perspiration. But I can’t think of a single word, and the book is due to the editor in one month. Why is it that every time I write a new book I completely forget
Harriet dressed. She chose a pullover shirt and the blue capris she had packed. Her new jeans needed washing, so she folded them tightly and shoved them into the suitcase. She would rather have worn the jeans and now wished she had bought two pair, but the capris would have to do until she could purchase another pair of jeans and sneakers. Most definitely sneakers. Her leather shoes had become almost impossible to wear. And even though her ankle was fully healed, it still ached from time to time — especially when it rained.
Harriet finished brushing her hair and teeth. She packed away everything she had taken out of her suitcase and tote and then made her way to the hotel lobby. First things first. Harriet desperately needed a pair of sneakers. She found the concierge desk, but he wasn’t there.
Harriet waited and waited until her stomach grumbled and she decided that breakfast was in order. The hotel restaurant was just the place. She ordered a hearty breakfast on account of today was a big traveling day. She wanted to make it clear across North Carolina in search of wide-open skies and stars.
The server brought her a plate of scrambled eggs, grits, toast, and a cup of fresh fruit consisting of strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, and watermelon.
“This looks lovely,” she said. “But could I have a little whipped cream on my fruit, please?”
“Of course,” her server said, taking the fruit cup.
“Thank you.”
Harriet liked the look of her server. A tall, graceful young woman who in Harriet’s estimation was working hard for somereason — maybe she was putting herself through school, maybe she was a single mom trying to support her family. Harriet’s imagination had a tendency to run away with her. It would be best to ask.
The waitress returned with Harriet’s fruit. The large white mountain of whipped cream made Harriet and the server smile.
“Ah, looks great,” Harriet said.
“Thank you. My name is Grace, if you need anything else.”
“I knew it,” Harriet said. “I was just telling myself that you are a graceful young woman.”
The woman looked away.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Harriet said. “I know a hard worker when I see one. And one with your grace and style and sweetness. Well, it’s just such a welcome commodity these days.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Grace said.
“Your momma knew what she was doing when she named you. If I took a guess I’d say you’re a dancer.”
Grace smiled so wide Harriet thought her face might crack. “Yes, I am. I’m a ballet dancer. At least I’m trying to be. Trouble is, grace and style, ballet, don’t pay the bills, no matter how hard I practice.”
Harriet swallowed the little bit of egg she held in her mouth. “No kidding. Well, that’s just the sweetest thing. I love the ballet.”
“I’m dancing in
Swan Lake
tonight in a recital at my school. I’d love for you to come. We’re raising money to get the troupe to Spain.”
“Really? Spain? Well, I don’t know if I can make it tonight. I’m traveling clear across North Carolina on my way to California. But I’ll see what I can do.”
Harriet finished her meal, and Grace returned with the check. “Thank you,” Grace said. “Have a nice trip.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” Harriet left a sizable tip and a note.
“Dear Grace. Dance your heart away. Have fun in Spain.”
Henry sat at his desk before dawn, Humphrey at his feet. He had been unable to sleep as he wrestled with his story.
“Apparently, Humphrey, the muse has left the building.”
Humphrey whined.
“I know, I know,” Henry said. “It’s not about inspiration. It’s about perspiration. But I can’t think of a single word, and the book is due to the editor in one month. Why is it that every time I write a new book I completely forget
Similar Books
