Page 1 of Sweeter than Honey

Chapter 1: The Respite Hotel

Lily

The sun hangs low in the sky, its golden rays illuminating the enormous stone building before me. The hotel takes up an entire city block, which is a big deal when you’re in the heart of downtown Silverlake City, where real estate is precious. Most developers would gladly trade their first born child for this spot, if it ever went up for sale.

But despite the rarity of its square footage, the entrance to the hotel doesn’t open directly onto the street. Instead, a thick wall encircles the block, with an arched entryway that opens onto a large courtyard. A glittering sign declares that I am now entering the “Respite Hotel by Tudor Thornblade.”

I take a deep breath. Although I’ve worked at the Respite hotel for over a year and a half, I never stop feeling awestruck by its imposing, elegant exterior. A sidewalk leads through the archway, curving around the paved driveway for limos and luxury cars to deposit their esteemed passengers at the hotel’s entrance.

As I walk up to the hotel, I admire its immaculately maintained courtyard. The grass and shrubs are neatly trimmed, and the benches shine with veneer. I’ve never seen anyone sit on them. They must be purely decorative, like the fountain that sits at its heart. I have an urge to toss a penny in. For a moment, I wonder what I would wish for. Then I catch another glimpse of the setting sun and hurry into the hotel.

A porter in a crimson uniform opens the door for me.

“Evening, Lily,” they say with a tilt of their cap.

“Good evening, Sid,” I reply with a smile as I enter the lobby.

The lobby is as grand as you would imagine, with towering ceilings, everything gleaming with marble and brass finishings. Two concierge desks stretch out across the length of the lobby, one on each side. An ornate chandelier glitters high above us. There are a few families being assisted by bellhops who pile their suitcases and bags onto golden carts. It’s not too busy this time of the evening. Most guests will have been checked in by now. The first concierge on the left gives me a grin.

“Forty-five minutes, Lily,” he calls, before picking up a ringing phone.

With alarm, I look up at the large vintage clock on the back wall. It’s later than I thought. I pick up my pace as I head toward the row of elevators at the back of the lobby. But I’m interrupted by a loud shriek.

“Lily!” Another concierge hurries over to me, her pale face flushed red. She wears a crisp white blouse and a dark pencil skirt. There’s a flyaway strand of light brown hair sticking out of her bun.

“Hi to you too, Chelsie…”

“Sorry, hi,” she says with an apologetic nod. “It’s just that we have asituation.”

I feel myself immediately shift into work mode.

“A guest, or a shareholder?” I ask.

“It’s Mrs. Harrigan,” Chelsie sighs. “She showed up twenty minutes ago, asking for her suite. I told her we can get her a similar room, but…”

“Her usual room was already assigned to another guest,” I finish for her.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m sure we can smooth the situation over,” I say, looking around the lobby. “Where is she?”

Chelsie bites her lip. “Um…that’s the tricky part.”

“There’s been ahugemistake!” screeches Mrs. Harrigan. “This ismyroom!”

Mrs. Harrigan is in her mid-eighties, but her age doesn’t stop her from being a formidable sight. She wears kitten heels, a designer cardigan with an ivory broach, and sunglasses that take up half of her face.

She addresses the young couple who stand in the center of the suite. They’ve clearly already made themselves comfortable here, wearing the hotel’s brightly bleached white robes and holding glasses of champagne. It looks like they’re celebrating something, or theywerecelebrating something, before they were suddenly interrupted. They wear matching expressions of shocked horror as Mrs. Harrigan rounds on them again.

“I’ve been staying in this suite since the sixties!” she declares. “If you do not leave immediately, you will be hearing from my lawyers!”

I quickly insert myself between Mrs. Harrigan and the robed couple. Mrs. Harrigan’s expression (or what I can see of it, underneath her large sunglasses) softens slightly when she sees me.

“Lily, thankgoodness,” she says. “Tell these people that this is my room!”

I plaster a sweet smile on my face, and put on my best customer-service voice.

“Mrs. Harrigan, it’s so good to see you this evening. It appears that there’s been some confusion. Unfortunately, as there was no room booking prior to this evening, this suite was assigned to another guest…”