| Subject: Chapter 5 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 20:07:28 03/29/01 Thu
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
**************
Remember your credit card. You may need it in an emergency.
David Colefield finished totaling up the bar receipts from the night before and was just adding the last few entries into the system when the phone rang.
Without looking away from the computer screen, he called out, "Dulcie, can you answer that?"
The phone rang again. And again.
Swearing softly, David jumped up from the desk and reached for the receiver. "Hotel Lucia," he said quickly.
The line was silent.
"Hotel Lucia. Can I help you?" he repeated.
Still no answer.
Frowning, David said, "Hello? Is anyone there?" Then he repeated it in English.
"Who is this?" a testy, tinny voice demanded in English.
"This is David. Can I help you?"
Another pause. Then the woman said, "I wish to speak to Mrs. Samuelle, please."
"I'm sorry, she's unavailable."
"How about Mr. Samuelle?"
"He's not here right now. Is there something I can help you with instead?"
"No. I mean, no thank you." Then, in a rush, the woman said, "I'm Milla Samuelle. Their daughter. Where are they?"
"Hey, the one in Egypt, right?" David carried the phone back to his desk, tallied up the last of the figures and hit the Enter key, watching as the figures righted themselves and the weekly inventory sorted itself out. He glanced up at the wall: a magazine spread showing precise tomb drawings in delicate shades of yellow, bright blue and blood red had been carefully mounted, framed and hung. "The one in the magazine?"
"Uh ... right. Where is everyone?"
Feeling like somehow he'd been snubbed -- after all, he was there -- David said smoothly, "Dulcie must be in another part of the hotel or she would've answered; Mr. Samuelle is out of town on business; and your mother isn't working today."
"Oh. She must be out shopping or something, I guess."
"No, she's here. She didn't feel well this morning."
"What's wrong?" Milla's voice sounded a bit strained, and David tried to be reassuring.
"It's nothing, really. Wednesday's are slow. She just felt like sleeping in."
Silence on the other end. Then, in a brittle voice, Milla said, "My mother's never slept in."
"Well, she had a bad night," he said smoothly. "And we aren't too busy right now."
"Bad night? What's wrong?" Milla demanded.
"Nothing. You know how it is. She has her good days and her bad days. Today wasn't so good."
Dead silence from the other end, and suddenly, David realized what was wrong. "You didn't know, did you? She's been off and on sick for as long as I've been here, and I've been here a year. She's usually fine, but some days she feels really bad. That's why I was hired. Mr. Samuelle wanted someone here when he had to go out of town. Not that he does a lot of traveling lately, but you know how he is. Careful."
"So, what exactly do you do?" Milla sounded a bit accusing, but David shrugged it off.
"Oh, the usual. Accounts. Make sure there's enough staff. I guess in another hotel property, I'd be the general manager, but that's an awfully grand title for someone who has to unstop toilets twice a week. Or do minor electrical work."
Milla laughed, and David found himself smiling back. "I thought Michael got the plumbing repaired a few years ago. I remember the floors being torn up and plumbers everywhere --"
"It's built on a mountain, Milla. Things go wrong with the plumbing," David reminded her.
"When is Michael due back in?"
"I don't know. Today or tomorrow morning, I think. He hasn't called in yet, but he should sometime this afternoon."
A pause. Milla evidently checked her watch, because the next thing she said was, "Damn. My wristwatch is gunked up with sand again. What time is it there?"
David checked his watch, told her the time, and Milla said, "Can you tell my mother I called when she wakes up?"
"Sure. Are you going to be somewhere she can reach you?"
"Uh ... yeah, if she wakes up in the next hour or so, I'm at Sheppherd's." Milla rattled off the phone number and said, "How often does she have these ... bad days?"
David thought for a moment. "This is the second one this month. She had a couple last month, too. But ... she didn't feel as bad as she does today."
"Can you tell me exactly what's wrong? Her symptoms?"
"I don't really know. Her joints swell up. After she's sick, she takes some sleeping medicine and tries to keep the swelling down. I think I heard your dad say it was some kind of neuro thing."
"Neurology? What, a brain tumor?"
"Uh ... I think I heard nerve damage. They didn't say anything about a brain tumor."
Silence. Uneasily, David said, "If it were something serious, Milla, I'm sure they would have told you."
"You're probably right," she said, but even to David she didn't sound wholly convinced.
"Anything else I can do for you?" David asked.
"No. Just tell her I called. But not if she's all drugged up."
"Okay." David begin making a liquor list of the things he'd need to order for the next week, and said, "So, how are things going with you? Your mother will want to know."
"Okay, I guess. Well, not really. I cut my hand pretty badly today. The doctor doesn't want me to do anything for a week till the stitches heal. But I'm all right."
"Well, take it easy. And don't worry about your mom. The doctors are still trying to diagnose her, but they've been working on it for a few months. They'll come up with something soon."
The line crackled with static, and David said quickly, "I have to go. The phone has been funny lately -- it sounds like it's about to cut --"
The line went dead. David clicked the receiver a few times, but the line remained uncommunicative. He hung up the phone and the electricity blinked off, then on, then off again. David cursed, turned off the dead computer and loped off to see what was wrong with the power this time.
*****************
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