“Your key, sir. And may I say you and the missus are quite lucky! Room 214 is our last vacancy here at the Grand Central Hotel.”
A key dangled from the finger of the front desk clerk as Scott glanced up from signing his name in the guest registry. “Excuse me?”
“Due to the train delay our hotel filled up quickly!”
Wait. Scott stared at his hand hovering over his signature. They needed two rooms - not one. About to point out the clerk’s misunderstanding, the situation became awkwardly clear. Seeing the cousins enter the lobby together, the gentleman simply assumed -
‘Dammit.’ Scott’s mind dissected the dilemma. They needed a place to sleep tonight. The train wasn’t an option. What was the alternative? 214 - last room in town. Focusing back to the registry’s page, he quickly squeezed Mr. and Mrs. on the line to accompany Scott Lancer.
“Ah, newlyweds.” The gentleman blessed Scott with an all-knowing grin. “Always a tell when the husband forgets to write mister and missus.”
Plastering a painful smile on his face, Scott nodded. “I can honestly say this is my first time writing Mister and Missus Scott Lancer.”
“Now, room 214 is one of our larger rooms - two beds - but, ah…” The clerk lowered his voice to carry on a more private conversation. “Push them together.” The man’s wink confirmed his instructions for success. “It should work out quite nicely.” Turning the registry around, a nod of approval was given before looking past the signature’s owner. “She certainly is a happy little thing.”
Following the man’s gaze, Scott peered over his shoulder to spy Kinsey in the hotel sitting room. Making eye contact, she smiled and gave a polite wave. His attention returned to the hotel clerk and self-proclaimed marriage advisor. “Well, sir, it's always been her dream to spend our honeymoon in Omaha, Nebraska. I know I spoil her but...how could I possibly say no? Nothing’s too good for Missus Scott Lancer. She’s such a happy little thing.”
******
It had been some time since Scott had to weather one of Kinsey’s storms. However, standing in the middle of room 214 he observed a thunder cloud brewing and the wind was blowing his way.
“What do you mean this is the last vacant room in all of Omaha?”
Scott tossed his bag on the far bed. “Which word has you puzzled, Freckles? Last, vacant, room or Omaha? I'm happy to elaborate.” Relieving Kinsey of her luggage, he chucked it on the remaining bed.
“Honestly! You can’t expect me to share my hotel room with you.” Kinsey snatched his valise off the bed and shoved it at his chest.
“No, Kinsey. I don't. I expect you to share my hotel room with me.” Grabbing the valise from his roommate, it went sailing back to his bed. “Let's remember - you had no problem sharing my breakfast this morning.”
“Don’t try to compare the latest turn of events to a piece of fatback.” The thunderstorm’s intensity gained momentum. “This is intolerable!”
“Is it?” Scott snagged his cousin’s luggage by the handle and transferred its possession to her hand. “The livery stable is down the street. Perhaps you can tolerate an empty stall and fresh hay.”
“You’re suggesting I sleep in a stable?” Kinsey’s luggage returned to her bed with a bounce.
“I think it’s an excellent suggestion, young lady. Although, I must admit, I can't speak for the horses.”
“You don't understand. A woman deserves her privacy!”
The detection of a whine signaled a new strategy being implemented on the battlefield and he wanted no part of it. Scott placed hands on his hips - determined to hold his ground. “Little girl, I can think of at least one thing you deserve to have right now and it’s not privacy.” Displaying her epic pouting demeanor, his cousin collapsed to the bed. “And you best save your dramatics for when we get home.”
He didn't want to agree, but Kinsey had a point. Sharing a room would create uncomfortable situations at times. It would be better if they did have some form of privacy.
A wrought iron coat hook located near the doorway caught Scott’s attention. His eyes moved across the room to the window curtain hardware on the opposite wall.
“I'll be back.” Grabbing his hat and coat, Scott added. “Stay put.”
“Where are you going?”
“To buy some rope.”
“And what, pray tell, will you do with a piece of rope?”
Scott opened the door to leave. “Resist hanging myself.”
******
Checking the tension on the line, Scott reexamined the attachment of its ends to the coat and window hooks.
Kinsey inspected the rope as it traveled across the room. “Do you think it will hold?”
“We’ll be the first to know.”
“What if it gives and we’re left with two gaping holes in the walls?”
“Then we leave by the bedroom window and escape retribution.”
“You say that rather matter-of-factly, Scott Garrett. Just how many times have you escaped retribution by exiting through a bedroom window?”
“That's a question a proper young lady doesn’t ask a well-bred gentleman and expect a response.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Even though neither of those individuals are present in this room, your inquiry will still remain unanswered. Hand me the blankets.”
Flinging the coverings over their makeshift clothesline resulted in a few creaks and groans before the fabric wall decided to claim victory.
Admiring words from the other side filtered through their makeshift barrier. “My older cousin is brilliant!”
“I am.”
“And he’s modest.”
“Well, I hate to brag.”
“Scott, thank you.”
Staring at the spot where the expression of gratitude originated, Scott’s frustration dissolved. “You’re most welcome.”
“Scott?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I’m such a -“
“Spoiled, impetuous, disrespectful, unnerving pain in the arse?”
“Well...I hate to brag.”
Grinning, Scott’s humorous comeback laced with playful sarcasm for his little cousin was interrupted by a knock on the door - the door on Kinsey’s side of the blankets.
The click of a turned doorknob followed by squeaking door hinges ushered in the visitor’s spirited salutation.
“Mrs. Lancer!”
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