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Authors: Susan Sheehey
Tags: Contemporary
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and yellow matted shag carpet broke up the dismal color scheme. The liveliest decorations in the room were the few stuffed quail and hawks mounted throughout the small dining area next to the check-in desk.
The town’s only motel didn’t require a concierge or bellman service. The clientele didn’t need them for their early morning hunting and fishing excursions, or their late night returns from the bar. The only other amenity they may have appreciated was a taxidermy service. Other than that, a decent mattress and a place to lock their guns were enough to consider this a five-star hotel.
Perfect lodging for Ethan.
The hotel clerk was as seasoned as the National Geographic magazines lying on the counter. Circa 1960s variety and just as worn.
“Hi, there. Do you have any rooms available for tonight and tomorrow?” Audrey asked with her most pleasant political voice and Peacemaker face.
“All booked up,” the clerk rasped out in a thick backwoods, East Texan accent, without glancing up from his newspaper. Cigar smoke trailed up from the ashtray resting behind the paper.
“Sorry, Audrey,” Adelaide called from behind. “Can we go to the store now? I need more lip gloss.”
Audrey ignored the sixteen-year-old beauty queen and lowered her voice. “Please, sir. It’s really important and you’d be doing us a huge favor. Could you just please check? Anything you have. I’ll pay double the going rate.”
The man raised his eyes with a recognition that sent squirms down Audrey’s spine. “We’re all full, Mizz Biddinger. Run on home now and take your campaign and big city reporter with you.”
Rough words from a rough man Audrey failed to recognize at first glance. Time hadn’t been kind to Mr. Packle’s face and voice, and neither had the cigar smoking. But neither had he been kind to her, even as a scrawny tomboy chasing her brother around the school fields he was in charge of maintaining back then.
He glared back into Audrey’s eyes with the condescending stare that every southerner seemed born with. Audrey merely smiled back, grabbing her keys from the counter. Before turning to leave, she looked in his stern eyes once more.
“Sorry for wasting your precious time, Mr. Packle.”
When she turned around, Adelaide’s frown matched her crossed arms and hip thrust to the side, whereas Ethan’s eyes flew wide to study Mr. Packle. Audrey closed the distance between them, polite defeat on her face.
“You want me to try and ask him?” Ethan whispered, not bothering to hide his amusement.
“I don’t think he’d be willing to give you an interview, big city reporter. Let’s go.”
Crawling back in the car felt like slipping underneath a rock to lick her wounds. If she were still seventeen, she’d have thrown back an insult at Mr. Packle and cared less of the repercussions. But things were different now. She was different. Some arguments weren’t worth fighting. But it still felt shitty to give up.
“That grump has had an attitude his whole life,” Adelaide defended from the back seat as she slammed the door. “He should have felt lucky to have a reporter stay at his motel. But that’s okay. Now Ethan can stay in Adam’s old room. I’m sure the bed is comfier.”
“I’m still reeling there’s another person in this town that the great Audrey Allen couldn’t sway.” Ethan’s dimples recessed into his face as his smile widened. Only a true cynic could gain that much entertainment from seeing her ego thrown into the Stone Age by a small-town curmudgeon. “He was all grins and giggles for you. Must be drinking the same whiskey as your brother.”
“Adam doesn’t drink whiskey,” Adelaide interjected.
“All military men drink whiskey.”
The tall pine and oak trees faded from Audrey’s view as she steered the last mile toward the grocery store. Adelaide and Ethan bantered like siblings. Harmless, relentless, and annoying all at once. Just like she and Adam used to be.
She missed
The town’s only motel didn’t require a concierge or bellman service. The clientele didn’t need them for their early morning hunting and fishing excursions, or their late night returns from the bar. The only other amenity they may have appreciated was a taxidermy service. Other than that, a decent mattress and a place to lock their guns were enough to consider this a five-star hotel.
Perfect lodging for Ethan.
The hotel clerk was as seasoned as the National Geographic magazines lying on the counter. Circa 1960s variety and just as worn.
“Hi, there. Do you have any rooms available for tonight and tomorrow?” Audrey asked with her most pleasant political voice and Peacemaker face.
“All booked up,” the clerk rasped out in a thick backwoods, East Texan accent, without glancing up from his newspaper. Cigar smoke trailed up from the ashtray resting behind the paper.
“Sorry, Audrey,” Adelaide called from behind. “Can we go to the store now? I need more lip gloss.”
Audrey ignored the sixteen-year-old beauty queen and lowered her voice. “Please, sir. It’s really important and you’d be doing us a huge favor. Could you just please check? Anything you have. I’ll pay double the going rate.”
The man raised his eyes with a recognition that sent squirms down Audrey’s spine. “We’re all full, Mizz Biddinger. Run on home now and take your campaign and big city reporter with you.”
Rough words from a rough man Audrey failed to recognize at first glance. Time hadn’t been kind to Mr. Packle’s face and voice, and neither had the cigar smoking. But neither had he been kind to her, even as a scrawny tomboy chasing her brother around the school fields he was in charge of maintaining back then.
He glared back into Audrey’s eyes with the condescending stare that every southerner seemed born with. Audrey merely smiled back, grabbing her keys from the counter. Before turning to leave, she looked in his stern eyes once more.
“Sorry for wasting your precious time, Mr. Packle.”
When she turned around, Adelaide’s frown matched her crossed arms and hip thrust to the side, whereas Ethan’s eyes flew wide to study Mr. Packle. Audrey closed the distance between them, polite defeat on her face.
“You want me to try and ask him?” Ethan whispered, not bothering to hide his amusement.
“I don’t think he’d be willing to give you an interview, big city reporter. Let’s go.”
Crawling back in the car felt like slipping underneath a rock to lick her wounds. If she were still seventeen, she’d have thrown back an insult at Mr. Packle and cared less of the repercussions. But things were different now. She was different. Some arguments weren’t worth fighting. But it still felt shitty to give up.
“That grump has had an attitude his whole life,” Adelaide defended from the back seat as she slammed the door. “He should have felt lucky to have a reporter stay at his motel. But that’s okay. Now Ethan can stay in Adam’s old room. I’m sure the bed is comfier.”
“I’m still reeling there’s another person in this town that the great Audrey Allen couldn’t sway.” Ethan’s dimples recessed into his face as his smile widened. Only a true cynic could gain that much entertainment from seeing her ego thrown into the Stone Age by a small-town curmudgeon. “He was all grins and giggles for you. Must be drinking the same whiskey as your brother.”
“Adam doesn’t drink whiskey,” Adelaide interjected.
“All military men drink whiskey.”
The tall pine and oak trees faded from Audrey’s view as she steered the last mile toward the grocery store. Adelaide and Ethan bantered like siblings. Harmless, relentless, and annoying all at once. Just like she and Adam used to be.
She missed
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