Page 16 of Daddy to Go

“Sir, you’re just in time,” a hotel employee said. “I think management told you we were pre-booked going forward? It means we’ll have to move you into one of our extended stay residences. I think you’ll like it.”

I raised my eyebrows at the young man.

“But will I like it more than the penthouse?”

The man looked down at his hands but then smiled.

“Some people like it more, actually. Our extended stay residences are free-standing buildings with a much homier touch.”

I laughed.

“Just kidding. Yeah, it’s fine. Are you guys going to move my stuff for me?”

The young man nodded.

“Yes, we’ll come up for your luggage, and get everything done for you in a jiffy. You won’t even notice. Here’s the key to your new place.”

I looked at the golden key in my hand. It was fine. I’m used to moving around and hadn’t even unpacked my bags.

“Thanks. Can you point me to the concierge, by the way?”

“Sure,” the hotel employee smiled. “Right over there.”

I thanked him again and made my way over to a middle-aged man standing behind a wooden podium.

“Hi, I have a question.”

The concierge smiled, putting his hands behind his back. “Yes, Dr. Rivington?”

“Do you know where Vincent’s Pizzeria is?” I asked, holding my breath.

The concierge did not look amused.

“Do I have to say it sir?”

I blinked several times.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

He sighed and put on a fake smile.

“Of course, I do. Silly question.”

I rubbed my face groaning.

“I don’t know what it is with people in this town. But I literally have plans to meet someone in ten minutes at Vincent’s Pizzeria. I am not from here. I don’t know where to go.”

The concierge’s face dropped.

“Come with me to the desk.”

I followed him over hoping to God he had Vincent’s hiding under the counter because my irritation level was rising. He pulled a brochure from behind the counter and slid it across to me. There was a guy on the front smiling next to a little girl shrugging dramatically. Both of them were laughing. The concierge waited until I looked up.

“I see where the confusion has set in, sir. Vincent’s has been here since 1967. They were the first family owned business to have a commercial on our local broadcasting channels. The commercial was simple. Several video seconds of delicious-looking pizzas and then Mr. Vincent and his daughter Annabelle. He would say, ‘Do you know where Vincent’s is?’ And his daughter would giggle and in the most frightful voice squeal out, ‘Of course I do. Silly question.’”

I let my shoulders relax a moment. “And the dialogue became famous and now the town all knows it.”

The concierge nodded. “Precisely, sir. But you have a meeting so let’s get you there. I’ll have a car come around. It’s only six blocks but it will be quicker to drive.”