| Subject: Chapter 13 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 15:55:05 03/30/01 Fri
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
**************************
The seeking for one thing will often find another.
For David, mornings at the Lucia were fairly busy. People paid their bills and checked out; sightseers needed directions and usually taxicabs to take them into town; some people wanted postcards and stamps. Sometimes they got early check-ins. On the days when Milla wasn't at Pompeii, she helped out.
David liked Pompeii. He'd been twice. That was enough. He didn't understand Milla's fascination with it or why she'd want to go several times a week, but he didn't question her about it, either. So what if she was obsessed? It was a lot healthier than some obsessions he could name. Plus, she was the boss's daughter. He was lucky she felt like helping out at all.
This morning, David had taken three cancelations for the weekend, called for two taxis, helped one guest down with his luggage, sold three boxes of the special handmade lemon scented olive oil hotel soap Mrs. Samuelle ordered from the supplier in town, directed two people toward the breakfast bar and checked out a family of seven, four members of which were under the age of ten. So when the last couple stepped up to the counter, he smiled more in relief than in welcome.
"Can I help you?"
"We have reservations. Sanderson," the man said, and David ran his fingers down the reservation book. He frowned: usually he or Dulcie were the only ones who took reservations. They had an orderly system worked out between them, one that Milla obviously didn't know. She'd been filling in at the front desk when David or Dulcie had to run errands, and not only could David not read her handwriting but he had no idea what the little notations and squiggles meant. Almost like pictures, but unidentifiable to him.
"For tonight?" David asked, once again carefully going down the list of reservations.
"Yes, and possibly tomorrow."
"Absolutely for tomorrow," said the woman -- his wife, David supposed, since she was obviously pregnant. "Sweetheart, it's lovely here. Come and look at the view."
"In a moment, Sara, let me just get this taken care of."
"Well, hurry -- I'm going outside --"
"I'll be there in a minute --"
"Actually," David said as Sara stepped outside, "I don't seem to have your reservation. It's all right -- we've got a room for you for as long as you want it -- but you'll have to give me your information again."
"Milla Samuel took our reservation," the man said. "She's not good at writing things down, though. She likes to draw pictures."
"Yeah, I figured that might be the case. Any of these look like you?" David turned the book toward Mr. Sanderson, who peered at it and then laughed.
"That's us," he grinned, pointing to a series of symbols in the margin by the date. "It's the hieroglyph for physician. My wife and I are doctors near Cairo."
"Oh," David said, finally recognizing him. "Sammy, right? She's been talking about you."
"Yes, that's right."
"Okay, if I can just get your passports --"
Sam reached in his pocket and handed David two battered passports. David smiled and said, "Well, glad you made it in. Milla's been talking about you since yesterday. I don't know if she told you, but Mr. Samuelle said to not charge you for the rooms."
"Oh, but --" Sam started to protest, then he realized what David had said. "Who said the room was free?"
"Mr. Samuelle. He and his wife own the hotel."
Sam licked suddenly dry lips and managed to say, "That's very thoughtful of him. I'll have to be sure to thank him."
"Well, you'll have to wait on that," David said cheerfully. "He's out of town till tomorrow night." He motioned to the passports and said, "I'll just scan these and get them right back to you."
Sam waited while David scanned their identification. Samuel, Samuelle ... easy to make a mistake, he supposed. He'd never seen Milla's name written and with her accent he'd never even thought her name was something other than Samuel.
Samuelle. It wasn't a common name. What if ... what if ...
David came back and handed the passports to Sam. "So, I noticed on your passport -- you any relation to --"
At that moment, a tall blonde woman in a blue flowered dress and strappy sandals breezed in. "Hey, David."
"Mrs. Samuelle! You're just in time. This is --"
"Let me guess." She grinned at Sam and stuck out her hand. "Sammy, right? Milla's been talking about you nonstop since yesterday. And great work on her hand, by the way. Very tidy."
"Uh ... thanks," Sam said, shaking her hand cordially.
"But I thought ... isn't your wife coming? Milla will be so disappointed if she --"
"She's outside. Admiring the view," Sam said quickly, studying her face. Up close, he could see pale white hairs mixed in with the pale blonde ones, a surprisingly pleasing combination. She was maybe in her early 50s, stunningly lovely, with little laugh lines around her bright blue eyes and generous mouth. A sprinkle of pale freckles danced across her collarbone. Her skin was a very light, nearly translucent, and a tiny pale blue vein beat steadily at her temple.
"Oh, good." To David, Mrs. Samuelle said, "Where's Milla?"
"She should be back soon," David answered. "She left a note saying she'd be back by the time the Sandersons arrived. She took my automatic."
Mrs. Samuelle blinked as if confused, then her face cleared. "Of course. The other car is standard. Well, she'll be back soon, then. Listen, is there any aspirin back there?"
David looked in the desk drawer and pulled out a green bottle. Then he hesitated. "Did you need something else?"
"No, that'll be fine. Just a bit of a ... headache." She took two aspirin dry, smiled at Sam again, and said, "I'll just run out and welcome your wife. When you get finished, come on out ... David, ask Dulcie to bring us some tea when she has a minute. We'll have elevenses on the patio. A little early, I guess, but it's a gorgeous day out."
Sam blinked as she swirled away and through the door. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be, Sam told himself firmly.
***************
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