Which they soon are. Don’t get me wrong. They’re good people for the most part. Lonely women who never found a man, and lonely men who never found the right woman. In a day or two they’re very good friends indeed. Let me put it like this. For eleven months of the year, we just get by. It’s at Christmas each year that we start making real money.

  That was how it’d been for the first seven. Not this one. The cancellations came in waves; when a wave slacked and I’d begun to think it was over, a new one began. It was the snowiest winter in the history of the state, the weathermen bleated, and more snow on the way.

  I’d been counting on Christmas to bail us out, to let us make up all the past-due payments. Christmas had come, and there was nobody. We’ve forty-two rooms; not a one was reserved. Not even one.

  So when Andril and Dondel came to the desk, I thought, “Thank God! This is two rooms anyway.” I supposed they were married couples, you see.

  Andril asked how much. He didn’t have a good voice; it was thin and hard, an accountant’s voice. I smiled and told him, “Only fifty dollars per night, sir, and that includes a good big breakfast.”

  Dondel produced his wallet and got out a fifty. “This is fifty dollars?”

  “Certainly, sir, and it will cover your room for the first night.” I reached for it.

  He took it back, returned it to his wallet and counted five one-hundred dollar bills onto the desk. “This is ten times as much?” As soon as I’d heard him, I’d decided he was in sales. He had the big, hearty voice that tells the client, lunch is on me.

  I said, “Yes, sir. It’ll take care of your room for ten nights.”

  “We shall remain,” he said, “until the morning after Christmas.”

  “In that case,” I told him, “I’ll owe you money when you leave, even if you and your wife eat all your meals with us and charge them.”

  The thin, dark one butted in. “For the room? How much?”

  “Fifty dollars a night,” I told him again, “but you needn’t pay cash. We take credit cards.”

  Dondel pointed to the five bills on our registration desk. “Two rooms,” he asked, “to the day after Christmas?”

  I said yes, it would more than cover them both.

  Dondel got out his wallet again and laid another five hundred on the desk. “Four rooms?”

  That was when I realized that they were four singles carpooling, not two couples. I said, yes, of course, and got out four keys.

  Dondel pulled five fifties from his wallet; he laid those on the desk, too. “Five rooms,” he told me. I had no idea why four guests would need five rooms, but it was over twelve hundred dollars and we needed it badly. I took it, put it in the register under the tray, and gave him five keys.

  · · · ·

  When they had checked in, Wyatt offered to move their vehicle into the parking lot. Dondel said he would take care of it and went into the bar. He gave four keys to Nranda first, and asked her to see that Wyatt distributed the luggage correctly.

  · · · ·

  I was vacuuming the hall when they came, and I stopped to look. My first impression was that they were ghosts, which was what Julius said at the seance. You’ll laugh, but was how I felt, just the same. He says I’m irrational. He laughs about it and is nice, but he believes I’m wrong. I feel I’m right. What we feel is what makes us do things, not what we think. It’s what we feel that’s true.

  I see it again and again. Mary’s with me often—her spirit, I mean. Dead and gone? I know that though Mary’s dead, she’s not gone. Julius thinks, so he thought we’d lost her. I feel and knew she was with us still.

  Where was I?

  I felt they were all spirits, then I saw the child. If they were spirits, what was the child? (I can’t say he or she because I don’t know. It was like seeing an old, cracked photo of a child, taken when all small children wore dresses. You don’t know, unless you read the name.) I wondered whether Mary could see it, whether she knew.

  When they’d gone, Julius said they’d want dinner. He wanted me in the kitchen, getting ready. I felt I could not cook well when I knew all the snow they’d tracked in—Wyatt, too—was melting into the carpet in the lobby. I swept out as much as I could while Julius built a fire in the bar.

  · · · ·

  I’m tellin’ you, Jack, their luggage was everyplace in that SUV. In front, in back, behind the back seat, and tied to the roof. There were no names on the bags, and no initials. No company name on the SUV, either.

  I carried everything upstairs and knocked on a door lookin’ for help. It was the dark one. She pointed to a big hard-sided bag and said, “That is mine. Carry it into the room.”

  So I did, and she said, “You must open this for me.”

  “Guests usually do that for themselves,” I told her. “I got to see about the rest.”

  “Open it!”

  It wasn’t locked, and her underwear was right on top. So I figured I could put an end to this quick. I picked up a lacy number and said she must look good in it.

  “You wish to see?”

  She was startin’ to undress, and that’s when I sat on the bed. I’m not goin’ to tell everythin’ we did—it was a lot—or everythin’ we said. But when I couldn’t anymore and she shoved me out, with me carryin’ half my clothes and my hair a mess, I felt like shit. Those dumb fuckers at school say there’s good sex and bad sex but even bad sex is pretty good. That wasn’t how I felt. They never did it with Nranda.

  Probably not with anybody.

  · · · ·

  Dondel, Andril, Nranda, and Erennide sat in the big dining room at a table for four, served by Wyatt, who answered their questions in a monotone and would meet no one’s eyes. Dondel had roast beef, Andril chicken potpie, Nranda a vegetarian plate, and Erennide lasagna, at Dondel’s suggestion. She and Dondel ate dessert—plum pudding and strawberry shortcake.

  Dondel signed for all four; when Wyatt muttered that he could add a tip to the bill if he chose, he said, “Yes, I had forgotten. And carrying our sacks?” The tip was a hundred dollars.

  · · · ·

  I fixed all the food. We’d told Felix not come in (the same with both maids), because of the snow and the cancellations. I know all the cooking sounds hard, but it wasn’t. Everything was frozen except for salads and desserts. I just put it in the microwave and unwrapped it afterward for Wyatt.

  He was depressed. I don’t like that, but I see a lot of it and I thought Julius had tied into him for something. I asked him to help with dishes afterward, so I could talk to him; but he just cleared and stacked for me. He didn’t even scrape them like you have to for the dishwasher. He looked so blue I didn’t have the heart to say anything.

  Mary had won Julius from the beginning. Me, too. She was the daughter everybody wants, so clean and pretty and kind and even tempered. And smart! When she married that teacher, I knew she was making a mistake. I should’ve said so. It was the first big mistake she’d ever made, and she didn’t know how to handle them. She divorced him, but…

  Oh, I don’t want to talk about it!

  The child came in and asked for something, mostly by signs. I peeked out into the dining room, and there they were at a table for four. They didn’t even have a place for the child.

  I said, “Do you speak English?” The child shrugged and didn’t want to look at me, just like Wyatt.

  So I tried a cookie and glass of milk, then a bowl of strawberries, with milk and little sugar on them. “How old are you?” That got seven fingers held up, but when I said, “You don’t look that old,” the child only shrugged.

  “Are you a boy or a girl?”

  “Soon I must choose.”

  It was the most I had heard the child say, so I felt encouraged. I was a friend, and it saw I was. That was how I felt. Pretty soon it would be my friend, too. I said, “I’m June. What’s your name?”

  “Soon I must choose one.”

  “You get to choose?”

  A tiny nod.

  “What’s your mommy’s name?”

  The child shrugged, and as soon as the strawberries were finished there was no child. I looked all around to see if it was hiding, but I couldn’t find it.

  We ate as a family when they’d gone. It means a lot to me, but Julius and Wyatt don’t care.

  · · · ·

  Wyatt wanted his hundred dollars immediately, but his father refused to give it to him until Dondel had settled. “All right,” Wyatt said. “I got somethin’ real important, and I’m not goin’ to tell you.”

  Almost nothing was said after that, until the desk phone rang.

  When Julius was in the next room, June said, “What’s your important news, Darling?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll tell him.”

  “I won’t. That’s a promise.” June crossed her heart.

  “No matter what it is?”

  She nodded. “No matter what it is.”

  “Well, I wanted to take their SUV and park it. The big guy said he would, only he didn’t. Only it’s gone. It’s not out front, and it’s not in the lot.”

  “He parked it somewhere else,” June said. “You can find it tomorrow, if you want to.”

  · · · ·

  It was the big blonde. I was looking in the book—we’re old-fashioned here—for her name while I was talking to her. I found her writing pretty easily, a big florid hand for a woman, and green ink. Big curves and curlicues I could no more read than Chinese. Her name’s Erennide. I got it a lot later. Which was not until I had my coveralls and had found my tools. My coveralls are pretty warm. I ought to say that. So I took off my tie and the dress shirt I had been wearing, and my wool slacks.

  I don’t know what another woman would have called that lacy thing, but it looked like she’d been sewed into it. I said, “Have you gotten it to flush?”

  She just smiled and shook her head. She’d the best smile I ever saw. I’ve never seen another like it. It made me feel we were kids, a boy and a girl, and we were into mischief. It was good mischief, and we’d never be caught.

  I went into her bathroom and there was nothing in the toilet. I said, “You flushed it with water from the tap, I guess. I understand, believe me, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

  That got the smile again. “Nor would I wish to embarrass you, my Jule. I have locked the door.”

  From here, I don’t know what to say or what not to say. It was wrong and I knew it.

  But every time I looked at her it seemed her breasts got bigger. I knew it couldn’t be true, but that was how it seemed. Bigger breasts and a warmer smile. Every time I touched her, a little more of the lacy thing fell off.

  Afterward, when we lay in bed panting and sweating, me on my back feeling wonderful and she on her side facing me, I could see each breast was bigger than her head. You’d think a woman with breasts like that and hips like hers would be thick at the waist.

  · · · ·

  That night when things had quieted down, I got a flashlight and went out lookin’ for the SUV, mushin’ through the snow like a fuckin’ sled dog. There wasn’t any. Not anyplace. When I got back inside and got my coat and sweater off, I went down to the kitchen, made coffee, and thought about it.

  There was only one way it could’ve happened. There’d been somebody else in there with them. Somebody I’d never seen. When they got out and I got all the bags out, he’d driven it away. That was how it had to be.

  Only how could there have been? I’d been all over it grabbin’ their luggage. If there’d been somebody else in it, I’d have seen him for sure.

  That reminded me of what my mom had said at dinner, about a little kid with them. I’d never seen any kid and neither had Dad, but he’d said they took five rooms. He thought they were expectin’ somebody else.

  So I went to the front desk and got the room numbers. Nranda was in two-twenty, at the top of the stairs. I knew because I’d been in there and I’d never forget it as long as I lived. There were names for the next three, and what looked like grown-up writin’. Two-twenty-four had a little wavy line where the name should’ve been.

  I’m not supposed to have a master key, but I know where Dad keeps his. I went upstairs for a look at Two-twenty-four. The door wasn’t locked, that was the first surprise. The lights didn’t work. That was number two.

  Okay, in a way they did. When I hit the switch, they came on dim and faded out. No power, right? Only the hall lights were fine. I still had my flashlight, so I looked around. It got dimmer and dimmer. The bed was made, and I couldn’t see anybody.

  “What is it?” That was a kid’s voice. Score one for Mom.

  I said, “I wanted to see if there was anybody in here. Your door wasn’t locked.”

  He didn’t say anythin’.

  “Is everythin’ okay? It seems like your lights don’t work.”

  They came on as soon as I said that. There was nobody there. Nobody at all. I looked in the bathroom and under the bed. My flashlight was fine again. Our closets don’t have doors anymore. If there’d been a kid in the closet, I’d have seen him. “If you’d like to move to another room or anythin’, just let me know,” I said.

  He didn’t answer, and by then I just wanted to split. The light went off as soon as I was out in the hall. I heard the switch click, but I never touched it. I thought of lockin’ the door from outside, but I never even shut it. I heard it close when I was on the stairs.

  That’s it, only when I woke up next mornin’ I kept hopin’ it’d been a dream. I knew it hadn’t been but kept tellin’ myself it had.

  · · · ·

  “Your hair’s wet,” June Christmas told her husband.

  “I showered up in her room,” he said. “I had to. I was filthy.”

  “I’ll have to wash your coveralls separately, I suppose.”

  “They’re not so bad. I rinsed them in her tub before I put them back on.”

  · · · ·

  Brenda and Gisele checked in the next day. Brenda had a jeep with big tires. That was kind of girl Brenda was. It had made it through the snow of the back roads. Brenda was small and energetic, like her jeep. Gisele was taller and wore her hair in two long braids; she was the kind of girl who is blond in the summer.

  Dondel was in the lobby when they came in. Julius, who had been at the desk looking for his master key, had not known he was there until the doors opened, but there he was. “You are very brave,” he told the girls. Then, “Let me take your coats.” Brenda gave Gisele a look that said, See? I told you there’d be guys here.

  Julius called, “Boy!” and Wyatt put on his coat and boots and went out for their luggage.

  “If you have not eaten,” Dondel was saying, “we would think it a privilege to buy your lunches.”

  Gisele looked around, and Brenda said pointedly, “We?” As soon as she spoke, Andril rose from a wing-back chair that had looked empty. He was younger and better-looking than Julius remembered. So was Dondel, for that matter.

  · · · ·

  Wyatt was busy, so I took their orders. The taller girl had our Christmas Inn sandwich, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and smoked turkey breast on a croissant. So did the dark handsome man. The smaller girl and the big man had the Cobb Salad. I think the girls must’ve asked the men what was good here; so those were what the men had told them. I’d brought menus but nobody looked at them.

  · · · ·

  “Have you been here before?”

  Dondel shook his head. “We got here yesterday. Have you?”

  “Brenda has.”

  Andril smiled at her. His smile was small and showed no teeth; but it was a good, warm smile anyway. “You must have liked it.”

  Brenda nodded. “It’s okay. I didn’t come last year because I had a steady and we went to his parents’ for Christmas. I dumped him after that.”

  “There are two women with us,” Dondel said. “You shall meet them. But—”

  That was when June Christmas came to take their orders.

  “Why not?” Brenda asked.

  Andril smiled again. “Perhaps we know them too well.”

  Dondel laughed. “Or they know us too well.”

  Gisele whispered, “This is an old place. I feel it.” She was talking to everyone and no one.

  “Very old.” Dondel nodded. “Old and full of ghosts.”

  Brenda said, “Don’t tell me you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Then I will not.” Dondel’s smile was much larger than Andril’s. “I sense them, as our lovely Gisele does.”

  Brenda turned to Gisele, grinning. “He’s trying to get next to you.”

  Gisele blushed and studied the tablecloth.

  Andril asked, “Would you like to see ghosts? Are you curious?”

  Brenda seconded him. “Ghosts at Christmas are an old tradition. Remember Scrooge? Ghosts and ghost stories.”

  Dondel nodded. “You are quite correct. Furthermore, there are many ghosts in this house, ghosts Gisele senses.”

  “Fine! Tell us a ghost story.”

  “I cannot,” he said. “I am no storyteller. But we have a lady with us who might show you several.”

  Gisele looked up. “A medium?”

  “You, I believe, would call her a size six.”

  Not long after that, their food came.

  · · · ·

  The new guests had gone into the dining room with the men, and I knew June would be busy with them. My son would disappear so I couldn’t put him to work; it was something I could count on. I went up to her room and tapped on the door.

  She opened it, as lush and blond as ever. The lacy thing was gone, replaced by a dark green robe that didn’t look exactly like terrycloth. “Again?” She was smiling. “So soon?”

  I shouldn’t have coughed, but I couldn’t help it. I said, “I noticed you hadn’t come down for lunch, and I wanted to tell you that you could have it brought to your room if you prefer. We don’t have a room service menu, but I can tell you everything we have, if you’re interested.”

  “This is very fine of you. I take it my telephone no longer operates?”