JACK KILBORN ~ ENDURANCE by Jack Kilborn

were made of naked wood, the banisters iron. There was a gap between the opposing flights, so it was possible to look straight up between them and see the roof. The stairway was slathered with more Presidential stuff, including a large poster of Mt. Rushmore. When they reached the second floor, Eleanor was standing in front of a closed door, tapping her foot. Her boots were vintage like her dress, black leather with hooks for the laces.
    “ This is the Abraham Lincoln Bedroom. It will be perfect for Kelly. You other ladies are on the third floor.” She handed Kelly a key, then began walking back to the stairs.
    Letti voiced her objection before Florence could. “We’d like to all stay on the same floor, if possible,” she called to Eleanor’s back.
    Eleanor turned and offered a mirthless smile. “That’s impossible. I’m afraid I haven’t made up any of the other rooms.”
    “ I’ll take this one,” Florence offered.
    Kelly already had the key in the door and had opened it. The light was on, and as expected, Lincoln memorabilia was the dominating motif.
    “ This room is cool! I did a school report on Lincoln. Remember, Mom?”
    “ I’d feel better if you stayed in a room next to me or Grandma.”
    “ Aw, c’mon. I’ll be fine. JD will be with me.”
    “ I’m a fan of Lincoln too, dear,” Florence said. “I was actually at Ford’s Theater when he was shot. Other than that, it was a pretty good play.”
    Kelly pouted. Florence considered correcting her on her pouting—pouting wasn’t a useful habit to pick up—but she wasn’t going to usurp Letti’s authority and start making rules. That had been one of many conditions Florence had agreed to when she asked to move in with them. In truth, if Letti had asked that Florence wear a bag on her head and never speak again, she would have agreed to that as well. Repairing her relationship with her daughter, and building one with her granddaughter, were the most important things in her life.
    Funny how priorities change when circumstances change.
    “ You should room next to Mom,” Kelly told her. “It will give you a chance to patch things up.”
    Florence gave Letti a look that said, Did you tell her? and Letti gave her the same look right back.
    “ I’m not stupid,” Kelly said, putting her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what the deal is between both of you, but now is a good time to work it out. I’ll be in here with JD, eating granola bars and playing with my iPod. G’night.”
    Kelly smiled brightly, stepped into the Lincoln bedroom with the dog, and shut the door behind her. Florence heard the lock turn.
    “ She takes after you,” Florence said.
    Letti folded her arms. “Meaning she never listens?”
    “ Meaning she’s strong willed and a smart observer.”
    “ I don’t have all day.” This from Eleanor, still waiting at the stairs.
    Letti pursed her lips and walked after the woman. Florence followed.
    After another flight of stairs, and another poster of Mt. Rushmore, the women arrived on the third floor. More low-lighting. More odd memorabilia on the walls.
    This woman must spend all of her free time on eBay.
    “ Letti, this is the Grover Cleveland room. I believe you’ll find it quite comfortable. And for you, Florence, the Ulysses S. Grant room, right next door.”
    “ Thank you, Eleanor.”
    Eleanor handed her the key, but hung onto the key ring.
    “ If you’re hungry tonight, the kitchen is on the first floor. There’s food in the icebox. I made cupcakes earlier. But be careful walking the halls. Rumor has it the inn is haunted. This property used to be a tobacco plantation. The owners had six slaves, and they treated them harshly. Lashings. Thumb screws. Are you familiar with strappado? They would tie a rope around a slave’s wrists, fasten it to this iron banister right here. It’s actually a gate. See?”
    Eleanor touched the railing, unlatching it. It swung inward on hinges, revealing the twenty-five foot drop to