*This story of accidentally published on my daughter's account, so I'm republishing it here for those who would like to read it possibly for the first time.
Maris Kettering didn't care if the light up ahead on the trail was a nice, warm cottage or a rundown, seedy tavern; they were stopping to get out of this godforsaken rain. She'd been soaked for more than an hour and would kill just about anyone for a set of dry clothes and a hot, steamy bath.
Twenty more minutes of trudging through the rain granted them their reprieve at what looked to be a very nice inn. The door was open and inside lively music flowed out into the night. "Come in out of the wet if you like," came a sing-song voice that belonged to a short, barrel-chested man with a mop of blond hair.
"We appreciate your hospitality."
"That's what we're here for," the man smiled. "Name's Stu Jackson, and this here's my wife Effie."
Maris looked around the inn, her body and mind on alert. After a quick perusal she sighed and approached the reception area. "I'm in need of three rooms if you have them available."
"That we do," Effie smiled brightly. She was a plump woman, dressed in a pretty, homemade dress with an apron over the front. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, but wisps of red curls clung to her face and neck. "Ever since the King's decree, we don't get many visitors. It's nice to have someone to look after."
"How'd you manage to end up on the King's Road at such an hour?"
"Official business," Maris said, "Unfortunately I can't divulge exactly what our mission is, but I can pay you handsomely for allowing us the use of your inn for a night or two."
"We'll charge our regular rate. No one on official business for the king is going to get scalped simply because they can afford to pay."
"We appreciate that ma'am." Maris grinned at Speck. He was massive, despite the insinuation of his name. At six foot-seven inches, he towered over everyone else in their small group. Maris was also tall, for a woman. She stood an easy five-ten and attributed her height to the long bones in her legs and an evenly matched torso.
Maris paid for the three rooms, handing keys to Speck and Drake, who'd be sharing a room with his partner, Reo. "Get clean, get dry and then sleep. We'll wait out this rain, but we'll leave as soon as we see the sun again."
"Yes, ma'am," Speck said, grinning as he met her gaze.
She waited until they entered their rooms, before turning to her own. The click of the lock had never sounded so good, and she sighed as she toed off her boots and felt her feet sink into the plush carpet just past the entryway. Done in butter yellow, the carpet offered a reprieve to her sore feet. But it was the pull of a light from the bathroom that tugged at Maris. She wasted no time stripping off her soaked clothes and all but whimpering when she saw the huge clawfoot tub filled to the brim with steaming water. They'd even put those little flower bombs to fragrance the water. She sank down into the water, not a care in the world that water splashed over the sides in waves. Every muscle in her body lengthened, sighed and relaxed as the heat penetrated all her aches and pains.
Maris sashayed around the front of the inn, kicking about the air a little to stretch her exhausted leg muscles and occasionally returning to the reception while trying the best she could at having a hearty chat with the receptionists about anything that she set her eyes or hands on.
“This must be imported, I have one like this on my patio in a pot”. She charmed Ryre, a calmer receptionist who had left the desk to pick up a fabric that was whirling in the wind around Maris’s feet, “The plant came from Latvia through a friend and the pot came from Egypt. The pot was a gift. I actually paid for it so I bought it anyway although it was meant to be freely-given but gifts cause me a lot of guilt if I don’t pay back their worth. That was a couple of years ago and I’ve not been back to my house in a few months. I hope it’s doing well in this torturous climate”.
Ryre struggled for a decent response and he didn’t know what exactly to react to; the plant, the pot, the Egypt, the gift, or Maris’s long absence from her own home. He chose silence. Not a bad choice for a newbie still trying to figure out clients’ ways of being cunning and complicated when they think they’re being nice and funny. His female colleague had taken a walk into the storage with some paperwork and a paper stapler. Ryre didn’t even know what the name of the blossoming plant was even though he saw it everyday and had more than ten times watered it and so his best way to conceal his little knowledge or none at all about some random flora that a guest was amused by, was to stay quiet at every plant and flower inquiry by Maris.
“Do you guys stay here?” prompted Maris, again, “I mean do you live here unless you’re on holiday?
“Yes,” Ryre retorted, finally bowing to the pressure to say something like a knowledgeable and helpful receptionist would, but that one-worded response for Maris’s long winded chat made her conclude that the chap wasn’t at all interested in a rapport-building business even at the centre of where he’s expected to entertain his guests with full focus and decorum and in word and deed. Ryer was the newest worker here and that didn’t help -he felt cornered and felt interrogated by a power-wielding messenger straight from the monarchy, he thought, who purposely came to haunt him tonight.
All the while, Maris watched the inn walls, waiting for the light two rooms to go on. Two windows lit up at once and she was certain that must be her companions arriving in their rooms. She tidied away the receipts that she still held in her left hand and headed towards her own room across the hallway from the rest. As she waited for her door to unlock, she could hear Speck and Drake murmuring in the room about whether they needed food before bed and about what time they needed to be up the following morning. Maris knew that the duo might come knocking at her door to find answers to their questions -but they didn’t know what room belonged to Maris.