Suite Scarlett

Scarlett rolled to the side of the bed.

 

“If you say Jenga again, I’m going to tell Mom and Dad about that time you said you were going away for the weekend to learn about opera singing, but you really went to that party in the Green Mountains to try to hit on that girl, Anika. Didn’t you end up sleeping in a car all weekend because she wouldn’t let you in?”

 

Spencer had been through this many times, but was prepared to oblige.

 

“Her boyfriend wouldn’t let me in. Big difference.”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Scarlett said. “He threw you into the lake. Was the water cold?”

 

“I seem to remember it was a bit on the brisk side. It was January. In Vermont. I guess I was just lucky that the layer of ice was so thin.”

 

“That is lucky.”

 

“Yeah. I remember feeling lucky when I swam out and walked a quarter of a mile through the dark woods to the house, soaking wet.”

 

“They let you in then, right?” Scarlett asked.

 

“Only because I would have frozen to death if they hadn’t. Anika told me to go in one of the bathrooms and take off my clothes, and that she’d put them in the dryer. She said she’d bring something for me to put on in the meantime. I must have gone nuts from the cold, because I can’t believe I made such a classic mistake.”

 

“She didn’t bring you any clothes?” Scarlett prompted.

 

“Surprisingly…no. At least, not mine, or anything like mine. Someone finally brought me these girly pajamas—pink ones, with kisses all over them. They came up to my knee and I couldn’t get the top on, but it was something. It kind of sucked going home in them.”

 

“I love those pajamas,” Scarlett said.

 

“Well, I always like to get you something when I go away. But want to know the best part? That girl who gave me the pajamas? Or gave you the pajamas?”

 

“I know, I know. She asked you out that Monday when you got back to school.”

 

This story was one of their favorites during times of stress. It had entertained them both during several long nights at the hospital. It always provided a few moments of comfort. They let it linger for a moment in the stifling air.

 

“You know what?” Spencer said dryly. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Amberson and that woman knew each other. What do you think?”

 

Before Scarlett was squarely shoved into the position of having to reveal all or lie her face off again, the door opened and Lola came in.

 

“I have some bad news,” she said.

 

“What?” Spencer replied. “Not today. Not when everything’s been going so well.”

 

Lola, of course, had no idea of the trauma of the morning. She stepped over Spencer to sit on the bed.

 

“We’re empty,” she said.

 

“Empty?” Spencer sat up on that one. “I thought we had those three guys coming in from Tokyo?”

 

“They canceled earlier this morning. That travel agency doesn’t like us anymore. I think that guy in the Sterling Suite three weeks ago complained about the toilet.”

 

“At least I don’t have to deal with that today,” Spencer mumbled. “Not that I don’t love doing that job.”

 

Lola slumped onto her bed. More than anyone else, she had been trying to keep things going. She had folded the toilet paper and researched the towels and gone without sleep. It looked like she took this as a personal failure.

 

“It’s not your fault, Lo,” Spencer said. “And it’ll be okay. Some idiot will find us and check in. Someone always does.”

 

Lola shook her head.

 

“This is bad, Spencer,” she said. “Really bad. I’m not sure if we’ve ever been completely empty before.”

 

“We’re empty,” Scarlett repeated.

 

The wheels in her head, which had been ground to a halt by the many obstructions life had thrown her way that day, started to click back into motion. The plan came in a rush, a chain of ideas loosely linked together. All of the fallen fruit of the summer gathered into one basket.

 

“Stay here,” she said to them, shoving herself from the bed and stepping over Spencer.

 

“Where are you going?” Lola asked.

 

“Just don’t go anywhere,” she said again, as she grabbed her bag and phone. “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

 

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