the
tourists.”
Baxter’s eyes sprang open. “Mr. Fanshawe’s
no ordinary tourist! He’s worth a fortune, and he’s the type of
guest we want to accommodate so he can spend some of that
fortune here! Just last month, Fortune 500 put him on the friggin’ Billionaire List, and here he is stayin’ at our humble
little hotel. Damn, girl! I can’t believe you told him the room
he’s taken used to be Jacob Wraxall’s!”
“He seems to have an interest in the hotel’s
history, that’s all.”
“That’s all? I also heard it when you
blabbed about Wraxall’s incestuous affair and the babies he
sacrificed! For goodness sake, girl! Somebody must’ve switched your
brain for a loaf of pumpernickel!”
Abbie chuckled, commencing to stuff olives
with bleu cheese. “Relax, Dad. He’s very interested in the local
lore. In fact, he also said he was going to have a look at the
graveyard soon. I told him all about it last night.”
Baxter’s face began to pinken. “That’s
probably what he was doin’, when he and them women found Karswell’s
body. If you hadn’t told him ‘bout that damn graveyard, he wouldn’t
even have been out there today! Holy hell , girl, he’ll be
hightailing it out of here for sure, and probably’ll go straight to
the Travelodge!”
She squealed a modest laugh. “Billionaires
don’t stay in Travelodges, Dad.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t stay here, either,
but we’re fortunate enough to have him anyway. It’s pure gravy. But
after all that gross-out ballyhoo you jib-jabbed to him last night,
you’ll wind up giving the man nightmares. We’re hoteliers, Abbie. It’s our job to cultivate our guests, not scare ’em
off.”
Abbie put the stuffed olives away, then
began to cut celery on a board: snap, snap, snap. “You’re
impossible. And what’s the big deal? I told you, Stew’s fascinated
by the Wraxall legend.”
Baxter nearly gagged. “ Stew? Where’re
your manners? It’s Mr. Fanshawe, girl. We treat our guests
with every courtesy, ’cos that’s what they expect!”
“He told me to call him by his first name,
Dad.”
Mr. Baxter paused, mulling a consideration.
“Really?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Baxter leaned closer. “Hmmm…well, now. If he
told ya that, then why don’t you turn that little light bulb on in
your noggin and get ta usin’ your brain for more than skull-filler,
huh?”
“ What? ”
“Don’t ya think it might be a good idea to
maybe, well, make some eyes at the man a little?”
Now Abbie bubbled over with shrill laughter.
“You’re priceless! Make eyes at him?”
“You’re actin’ like a dizzy blonde, and
you’re not even blond. For Pete’s sake, girl—all that
money?” The elder suddenly turned flustered. “But, no, I don’t
suppose my brainchild daughter would ever consider that.”
Abbie shook her head. “Dad. Stop. He already
asked me out.”
Baxter nearly gagged again. “You joshin’
me?”
“No, I’m not joshing you.”
Then a look of total dread came over the
man’s face. “You said yes, didn’t ya, Abbie? Please. Tell me ya
said yes!”
Abbie fidgeted. “Well, I wanted to, Dad, but
I really don’t know him that well, so I said I’d take a rain
check—”
Baxter stared, veins suddenly pulsing in his
neck. In a stalled instant, his shoulders slumped. “Aw, Abbie, how
could I raise such dumb bunny for a daughter?”
Abbie broke into more laughter. “You’re so
easy to dupe, you know that? Of course I said yes. He’s
taking me to the Thai place tomorrow at seven.”
Baxter stomped his feet and hooted out loud.
When he did so, several guests out in the atrium shot glances into
the bar. “Well, hot damn, girl! That’s the best news I heard since
that Neal Osborn fella walked on the moon!”
“Armstrong, Dad. Not Osborn.”
Baxter was frantic. “What are you going to
wear? That’s very important on a first date, you know. Hmm, let’s
think. You gotta wear something nice, of course. How about
tourists.”
Baxter’s eyes sprang open. “Mr. Fanshawe’s
no ordinary tourist! He’s worth a fortune, and he’s the type of
guest we want to accommodate so he can spend some of that
fortune here! Just last month, Fortune 500 put him on the friggin’ Billionaire List, and here he is stayin’ at our humble
little hotel. Damn, girl! I can’t believe you told him the room
he’s taken used to be Jacob Wraxall’s!”
“He seems to have an interest in the hotel’s
history, that’s all.”
“That’s all? I also heard it when you
blabbed about Wraxall’s incestuous affair and the babies he
sacrificed! For goodness sake, girl! Somebody must’ve switched your
brain for a loaf of pumpernickel!”
Abbie chuckled, commencing to stuff olives
with bleu cheese. “Relax, Dad. He’s very interested in the local
lore. In fact, he also said he was going to have a look at the
graveyard soon. I told him all about it last night.”
Baxter’s face began to pinken. “That’s
probably what he was doin’, when he and them women found Karswell’s
body. If you hadn’t told him ‘bout that damn graveyard, he wouldn’t
even have been out there today! Holy hell , girl, he’ll be
hightailing it out of here for sure, and probably’ll go straight to
the Travelodge!”
She squealed a modest laugh. “Billionaires
don’t stay in Travelodges, Dad.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t stay here, either,
but we’re fortunate enough to have him anyway. It’s pure gravy. But
after all that gross-out ballyhoo you jib-jabbed to him last night,
you’ll wind up giving the man nightmares. We’re hoteliers, Abbie. It’s our job to cultivate our guests, not scare ’em
off.”
Abbie put the stuffed olives away, then
began to cut celery on a board: snap, snap, snap. “You’re
impossible. And what’s the big deal? I told you, Stew’s fascinated
by the Wraxall legend.”
Baxter nearly gagged. “ Stew? Where’re
your manners? It’s Mr. Fanshawe, girl. We treat our guests
with every courtesy, ’cos that’s what they expect!”
“He told me to call him by his first name,
Dad.”
Mr. Baxter paused, mulling a consideration.
“Really?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Baxter leaned closer. “Hmmm…well, now. If he
told ya that, then why don’t you turn that little light bulb on in
your noggin and get ta usin’ your brain for more than skull-filler,
huh?”
“ What? ”
“Don’t ya think it might be a good idea to
maybe, well, make some eyes at the man a little?”
Now Abbie bubbled over with shrill laughter.
“You’re priceless! Make eyes at him?”
“You’re actin’ like a dizzy blonde, and
you’re not even blond. For Pete’s sake, girl—all that
money?” The elder suddenly turned flustered. “But, no, I don’t
suppose my brainchild daughter would ever consider that.”
Abbie shook her head. “Dad. Stop. He already
asked me out.”
Baxter nearly gagged again. “You joshin’
me?”
“No, I’m not joshing you.”
Then a look of total dread came over the
man’s face. “You said yes, didn’t ya, Abbie? Please. Tell me ya
said yes!”
Abbie fidgeted. “Well, I wanted to, Dad, but
I really don’t know him that well, so I said I’d take a rain
check—”
Baxter stared, veins suddenly pulsing in his
neck. In a stalled instant, his shoulders slumped. “Aw, Abbie, how
could I raise such dumb bunny for a daughter?”
Abbie broke into more laughter. “You’re so
easy to dupe, you know that? Of course I said yes. He’s
taking me to the Thai place tomorrow at seven.”
Baxter stomped his feet and hooted out loud.
When he did so, several guests out in the atrium shot glances into
the bar. “Well, hot damn, girl! That’s the best news I heard since
that Neal Osborn fella walked on the moon!”
“Armstrong, Dad. Not Osborn.”
Baxter was frantic. “What are you going to
wear? That’s very important on a first date, you know. Hmm, let’s
think. You gotta wear something nice, of course. How about
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