An Unwanted Guest(8)

‘Ready?’ he asks, as she puts in her second earring. She’s sitting at the antique dressing table, looking at him in the mirror as he stands behind her. It feels very romantic.

‘Why don’t ladies have dressing tables like this any more?’ she asks.

‘I don’t know. They should,’ he says, looking back at her in the mirror and gently touching a tendril of her long hair.

‘After dinner we can sit in front of the fire here and drink the champagne they’ve left us,’ she says. She thinks about how lovely it will be, just the two of them, here, in this perfect room, by the light of the fire, the snow still coming down, silencing the outside world. How far away from their everyday lives it feels.

Matthew closes their door behind them and shoves the key into his pocket.

When they come around the landing and view the lobby, he sees a small gathering of fellow guests. The young man who was at the front desk earlier is mixing drinks, chatting comfortably with the handful of people seated near the fireplace.

‘Bar’s closed this evening,’ the young man says as they reach the bottom of the stairs and approach the group. ‘We’re missing a bartender and making do. I hope that’s all right,’ he says.

‘No problem at all,’ Matthew assures him, smiling, his hand on the small of Dana’s back. It looks like a cosy enough arrangement. They sit down on a sofa across from a couple close to their age. There’s a slightly older man who seems to be on his own, and a pair of women sharing a sofa across from the fire.

‘What will you have?’ the young man asks, smiling appreciatively at Dana.

‘A vodka Martini please,’ she says.

‘Make mine a Scotch on the rocks, thanks,’ Matthew says.

‘I’m Bradley,’ the young man says.

‘I’m David,’ says the man by himself.

‘He’s a criminal attorney,’ the man across from him says. ‘I’m Ian, and this is Lauren.’ Lauren smiles at him.

‘I’m Matthew, and this is my fiancée, Dana,’ he says.

Ian leans over and indicates the women on the sofa. ‘And these are Gwen and Riley.’ Gwen nods and smiles demurely; Riley looks at them and gives the briefest of smiles before turning away to stare into the fire. ‘We found them in a ditch not far from here,’ he adds, smiling.

He seems friendly, Matthew thinks. Easy to talk to. Easy to like.

Gwen offers, ‘We’re lucky they came along or we’d probably still be out there, frozen to death by now.’ The wind rattles the windows, as if to underline what she’s said. ‘I’ll have to have a tow truck get my car out in the morning. They couldn’t come tonight, obviously – the roads are too bad.’

‘We’re lucky we got here when we did,’ Matthew says, ‘or we might not have made it at all. I think the storm’s worse than they expected.’

‘I know,’ Bradley says. ‘Sometimes I wonder about the weather forecasters. My father says it’s more useful to look out of the window. He’s got the radio on in the kitchen. The main highway has been closed and they say the side roads are pretty much impassable. Some of our guests couldn’t make it here, but frankly, that’s a good thing. We’re short-handed because of the storm.’

‘Oh dear,’ Gwen says.

‘Don’t worry, we can look after you all right,’ Bradley says, with a brash confidence.

He’s a good-looking young man, Matthew thinks, and very sure of himself – almost cocky.

‘I hope the power doesn’t go off,’ Lauren says.

‘If it does,’ Bradley assures them, ‘most of the rooms have fireplaces and the woodshed is well stocked with wood and kindling. And we have some oil lanterns if we need them.’

‘That actually sounds kind of nice,’ Ian says.

Matthew catches movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up. Another couple is coming down the staircase. They’re older than he and Dana, maybe in their late forties. The man looks put out about something, and the woman beside him looks as if she’s trying to make the best of it.

The man joins them and immediately says to Bradley, ‘I could use a Scotch and soda.’ He takes the drink from Bradley when it’s offered and stands by the fireplace, leaving his wife alone by the bar trolley. Bradley asks her, ‘What can I get you, ma’am?’

‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,’ she says politely.

‘Come and sit,’ Gwen says, moving over a little and patting the empty spot on the sofa beside her. The woman looks at her gratefully and joins her, sinking down into the cushions.

Ian makes the introductions, and then looks pointedly at the man standing in front of the fireplace.

‘I’m Henry,’ he says, ‘and that’s my wife, Beverly.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Beverly murmurs to everyone.

‘We were just talking about the storm,’ Lauren says. ‘Bradley was telling us that we are completely snowed in, and reassuring us that we have nothing to worry about if the power goes out.’

‘There’s no mobile reception up here,’ Henry complains. ‘And no wi-fi. It’s like being buried alive.’

There’s a startled silence at this.

‘We’ve never had mobile reception,’ Bradley says, flushing slightly at the rebuke. ‘Or wi-fi. It’s in our brochure. Many of our guests come up here to get away from all that.’