“I don’t know, uh…” Reg looked at Ilka. She’d had the money to book passage to Florida, but had that exhausted her resources? Or did she have loads of cash? Would she be insulted if Reg put her in a lodging that was not up to her standards? Reg hated to imagine how Ilka would react if they insulted her. “Um…” Reg made a covert “money” gesture rubbing her thumb across her fingers, hoping Etienne would understand.
Etienne looked at her for a minute, frowning. “Oh.” He turned to Ilka. “Do you have money?”
Reg laughed. Etienne was so old fashioned and careful to do and say things just the right way that she hadn’t expected the bluntness.
Ilka nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t come here without anything.”
Reg blew out her breath in relief. “Do you have a budget? A certain amount to spend on hotels?”
“Whatever is necessary. Nothing fancy, I will not be there long. We will need somewhere we can get food brought to the room.”
“Sure. Somewhere with room service and a good restaurant. Or we can order something delivered.”
Reg picked a midrange hotel and gave the name to the driver. He nodded his agreement and pulled out.
It was only a short drive. When they drove over the speed bumps in the parking lot, the van scraped bottom. Reg winced. Having two Bigfoots and one massive trunk in the van was probably not good for its suspension.
“Sorry,” she said to the driver.
He just shook his head and looked in the rear-view mirror at his furry passengers. “Are they going to book the reservation?”
Reg looked at them. “I’ll go in and get it done,” she offered. “Just… I don’t know if you have cash or a credit card…?”
Ilka reached into the capacious pockets of her cloak and came up with a minimalist wallet. She handed Reg a black credit card and what Reg assumed was the Russian version of an AAA card.
“Okay… I’ll get you a room.” She hoped that the hotel would take whatever the credit card and club card were. She didn’t much feel like explaining to the desk clerk that she had a Yeti in the car and would they please at least try to process the strange credit card?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luckily, the desk clerk didn’t seem the least bit surprised or puzzled by Ilka’s foreign cards, and they went through on the first attempt. The clerk read through the messages that popped up on her screen.
“You qualify for free breakfast, concierge services, massage, and… a list of other services. If you need anything, please just ask. We would be happy to help.”
“I’m actually not the guest; I’m just setting it up for her,” Reg explained, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She didn’t want them treating her like she was something special and then being surprised by the sight and bulk of Ilka. “She’ll be in in just a moment.”
“Of course. Well, if she does need anything, she has only to ask.”
Nice. Reg wouldn’t mind treatment like that when she booked herself in at a hotel. Her experiences with hotels had been the opposite—having to prove that she would actually be able to pay for her stay. Enduring the owner of some shabby motel looking down his nose at her and grimacing like she smelled like an old, sick dog.
The woman quickly put together a folder with all the details Ilka would need, including the room key in the form of a proximity card. Reg went back out to the van to pass the folder on to Ilka.
“Is it all arranged?” Ilka asked.
“Yes.” Reg reached out with the folder, but Ilka didn’t take it. She and Etienne climbed out of the van and Ilka picked up the trunk with one hand as if it were no heavier than an average suitcase.
“Shall we go in, then?”
Reg led the way back into the hotel lobby. She nodded at the clerk, who watched their progress with wide eyes. Reg wasn’t at all sure that all three of them would be able to ride the elevator together. They might only be three people, but she was still worried about exceeding the elevator’s maximum capacity. And then what would happen? She’d rather not find out.
It made some loud grinding noises moving up the floors, but it didn’t stop or plummet to the basement.
The doors opened on what looked like a penthouse suite. Reg opened her mouth to say that they must have gotten it wrong. She was pretty sure she had just booked a single suite with a king bed. Nothing as fancy as all that. But with the way the clerk had been behaving, maybe the credit card and points card had given Ilka an automatic upgrade.
Ilka strode into the suite and looked around, nodding. Etienne followed a few steps behind her, reaching out to take the trunk for her. He looked around with wide, surprised eyes. Reg was glad that she wasn’t the only one who had misjudged the situation. Asking whether Ilka had enough money for a motel, when she apparently had enough for the presidential suite. Etienne had to be thinking of his rough little cabin in the Everglades, wondering what she would think when she arrived there. It was cozy, but had no amenities. Well, it did have flush toilets, at least. That was something.
Ilka allowed Etienne to take the trunk from her. He seemed just as capable of hefting it as she was. That was a relief. Reg didn’t want Etienne to look like a weakling beside his bride. He was going to have to find some way to impress her. He looked around the suite and found the door to the bedroom, where he deposited her trunk carefully. He returned to the main reception area and sat down on one of the large pieces of furniture. “The, uh, bed is of a good size,” he informed Ilka.
They all looked at each other.
“For you,” Etienne clarified. “You would not want your legs to hang off the end.”
“Yes,” Ilka agreed, a small smile shifting the fine fur on her face. “Now, shall we get some food?”
“Do you need help?” Reg asked Etienne. “I should probably get back to my house. I’ll tell the Uber driver that you won’t need him anymore.”
“We need a chaperone,” Etienne insisted, looking almost panicked. “You cannot leave us here. In this place.” His eyes went to the bedroom where he had just deposited the trunk. “It would not be proper.”
“Oh. Okay.” Reg had been hoping that once Ilka was checked in at the hotel, they would be able to manage on their own. But apparently, that was not going to be the end of it.
A few minutes later, Reg was on her way back down to the main floor of the hotel where the restaurant was, with written instructions from Ilka as to what she wanted prepared. Apparently, she did not understand about ordering off the menu and had insisted on making a special order.
Reg walked into the restaurant, a nice place with dim lights and real candles on the tables. Not the flickering-flame electric lights that many of the places Reg had been to used. Reg immediately felt her own fire calling out to the candles. She tried to tamp it down and to focus on the job at hand. She flushed with embarrassment when she was approached by the hostess to be seated. She handed the paper to the statuesque woman, giving a little grimace. “I’m sorry… I’m assisting one of the guests. She’s from Russia, so there’s kind of a cultural disconnect… she has made this order and asked me to bring it down to you.”
The hostess looked down at the order, looking uncertain. “I’ll… talk to the kitchen. What room is this for?”
“The, uh, penthouse suite, I guess?”
“Oh. Yes, we’ll see what we can do about this. Do you want to stay here and wait, or would you like someone to bring it up to you?”
“Uh, maybe I’ll hang out here for a bit.” She needed to send the Uber driver on his way, and would give Etienne and Ilka a little privacy, even though they didn’t want it. No one could complain about them being unsupervised for a few minutes while Reg saw to their food. They had to eat, right?
The hostess nodded and indicated the bar. “Please feel free to have a seat, and whatever drink you like, on the house.”
Apparently, there were even more perks associated with having the money to book the best suite in the hotel. Lots of free stuff seemed to come to those who could afford to pay fo
r it all. Why didn’t they give free stuff to the poor people and charge the rich people the higher prices they could afford to pay?
Reg sat at the bar and ordered a beer. She didn’t need any fancy wine or cocktail. Just something to help relax her while she waited to see what the kitchen had to say about Ilka’s special order.
She texted the Uber driver, checked her social networks, and watched a few videos, lost in the world of her little phone screen. Other people sat down to have a drink and then migrated to tables. The restaurant was filling up, getting noisier.
Eventually, Reg was roused by a tap on her shoulder. The hostess hovered there. Beyond her, Reg could see a couple of waiters with a number of covered platters.
“We have everything ready for the empress.”
The empress?
Reg blinked in surprise. She looked around to see if the hostess could be talking to someone else. She pointed to herself, mouthing “me?” and the woman nodded impatiently.
“Yes, we have everything she requested.”
“Uh, great.”
Reg slid off the barstool. She tossed a bill on the counter for the bartender. Even if she was comped the drink, she thought she should still tip the bartender.
Reg led the way to the elevator, with the hostess at her side and the waiters trailing behind them. Reg had expected the hostess to stay behind in the restaurant, but apparently, she was hoping for some glimpse of the VIP’s. They all rode up the elevator together in embarrassing silence. Reg thought she should probably make small talk, but had no idea what to say. She hadn’t known anything but Ilka’s name. Etienne had never told her that Ilka was an empress; she was quite sure of that.
No wonder the match was going to take some negotiating.
What did Etienne and his family have to offer the royal family, other than a little cabin in the swamp? Even though the two had been courting by mail, Reg was no longer quite so sure that it would be a simple matter of the families rubber-stamping their union.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When the elevator doors opened on the suite, it was empty. Etienne and Ilka had apparently withdrawn to one of the other rooms so they would not be on display.
The waiters made their way over to the dining room table and began to lay out the platters and place settings. “How many people?” one of them asked.
“Uh… three.”
He raised his brows and nodded, and they efficiently set the table. Reg could see that it was a lot of food for just three people. At least, for people of her size. Ilka and Etienne would eat a lot more than she would. Especially if Ilka had not been eating well on the boat. It wasn’t exactly steerage suited for an empress.
They all waited around awkwardly after setting up the food. Reg wasn’t sure whether to shoo them out, or whether she was expected to tip each of them. That could get expensive very quickly. But after looking at her expectantly for a moment, they ushered themselves out. Reg watched the light over the elevator for a moment to make sure that they were really gone.
“Everyone is gone again,” she called out. “Food is here if you’re hungry.”
“We will be out in a moment,” Ilka called out.
Reg stood by the table, wondering if she should sit down, hold Ilka’s chair for her, or serve them. She had no idea what the empress was expecting.
It was a few minutes before Etienne and Ilka appeared. They had both removed their cloaks and looked more comfortable in their fur, with only the necessary minimal coverings. Reg tried not to stare at Ilka’s shining golden-brown coat. Nothing had changed. Just because she was an empress—if the hostess had even been right about the title—she was no different from the woman who had hefted her own trunk not even an hour before. She was still the same person Reg had known about: Etienne’s long-distance girlfriend, there to visit him and see if she could speed their union along.
But she couldn’t help giving a little bow in Ilka’s direction.
“I hope they got everything right. They said they had prepared everything you asked for.”
Ilka’s eyes swept over the table, and she nodded. “Yes, this looks very good.”
The smell of the food made Reg hungry, even though she had not thought that she would be able to eat anything. She waited until Ilka and Etienne sat down, then took a third chair, not too close to either of them, but not separating herself down the other end of the table, either.
“It smells great. Did you know that Etienne is a very good cook?”
Ilka looked across at Etienne, giving a smile that showed her sharp teeth. “That is good! It is an important skill, especially when you are living so far from civilization.”
At least she knew that the cabin Etienne lived in was remote. But then, Reg didn’t know what sort of place Ilka came from. Even though she appeared to be at home in the lavish penthouse suite, that didn’t mean it was the kind of place she had grown up in. Perhaps she was used to roughing it. Maybe she had gone away to finishing school to learn how to behave when she was among the rich, even if her home life was not like theirs.
Ilka and Etienne dished up the food. They gave Reg their names for the dishes, in English, French, Russian, or all three, and Reg nodded with interest. They would tell her a little bit about the background or story behind the dish, little folk tales that had been passed down from one generation to the next, or little tidbits about their families, like how James hated anything he declared mushy.
“Are you going to be calling James tonight? Or will you leave that for tomorrow?”
“We will attempt to get things started tonight,” Etienne said. “If I can use your phone again.”
“Sure, of course. They might have a computer that you could use here. You just have to—” At Etienne’s look, she broke off. She wasn’t going to teach him how to Skype or Zoom when he knew nothing at all about technology. “I’d be happy to help you.”
“My thanks, Reg Rawlins. You have been most accommodating. I have been quite an imposition upon you.”
“No, not at all. It’s been nice having you here. And you’ve cooked for me, so how is that imposing? I haven’t exactly been a good host.”
“A good guest does not make the host feel inadequate.”
“Well… I don’t think that’s on you. That’s just me. I’m not used to having people stay over.”
“Where are you staying tonight?” Ilka asked Etienne. “Not at her cottage again, surely. It is not appropriate.”
“I don’t have anything better,” Reg said, embarrassed, “Or I would offer. I could ask Sarah whether you could stay in the big house. She has spare rooms. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind…”
“No,” Ilka said firmly. “It is not your responsibility. He should find somewhere better suited. Like here.”
“You could book another room here,” Reg suggested. “I could help you with that.”
Etienne looked at Ilka uncomfortably. “I think it would be better for me to stay at another inn.”
“You can stay here. You don’t need to book another room or another hotel. Look at it,” Ilka made a gesture. “There is plenty of room.”
“But no chaperone,” Etienne said. “We cannot ask Reg to stay all night. She needs to sleep. She has a cat.”
“Then stay here without a chaperone,” Ilka said brazenly.
“I cannot do that. Your honor…”
“My honor is not at risk. I am the same person whether we stay together or not. It does not matter what anyone else says or thinks.”
“It matters to our families, to our community.”
“They want cubs, do they not?” Ilka demanded. “If they do not want our people to die out, we need families. Large families. What is the point in courting for years and only having a cub or two in the time we have together?”
Etienne looked at Reg, his eyes wide. Reg tried not to smile at his shocked expression. Ilka was certainly an independent girl, quite happy to break their traditional rules if she thought it advisable.
“W
e are not starting a family tonight,” Etienne said, his tone stubborn. “We will not rush into this so quickly. It is not seemly.” He ate a couple of bites of his dinner. “I admire your ideas and your spirit, my Ilka, but I will not be hasty in this. We will follow at least some of the expected traditions as we prepare ourselves for a life together.” The words seemed to stick in his throat. His brother had not yet approved their marriage, so even just indicating that he was prepared to start a life with Ilka was apparently a difficult step for him.
Ilka considered this, then nodded. “There is no need to rush into anything tonight,” she agreed. “But do not think I am going to let our lives be dictated by our family representatives. If they do not agree or think that we are going to court for decades…” She shrugged. “We are old enough to make our own decisions without them.”
Etienne gave a little nod as he ate. Reg looked down at her food, which she had nearly forgotten. She took a few more bites. It was very good, but not as good as Etienne’s cooking had been. She looked over the various dishes, trying to identify all the vegetables. She had never been big on vegetables and didn’t even know what all of them were called. She knew that Etienne did not eat flesh normally, but some of the dishes looked suspiciously meaty to her.
Ilka looked at Reg sharply. “We do not eat creatures,” she said, giving a shake of her head. “Unlike you.”
Reg swallowed, her cheeks hot. “I just don’t know what they all are,” she explained. Most of the cultures she had come into contact with while at Black Sands disapproved of mind-reading without the permission of the subject, but Reg remembered that Etienne had sometimes responded to her comments and questions before she voiced them as well. Had they read her mind or just guessed at what she was thinking?
Etienne made a motion toward Ilka to stop her, but Ilka went on.
“You smell like flesh,” Ilka said, the fur on her face bristling as she wrinkled her nose. “Like the animals you eat.”
Reg was mortified. She remembered the smell that had clung to Tybalt, the scent of putrefying flesh. It had nauseated her. Etienne had still been able to smell it on her the next day. But it had never occurred to her that they would be able to smell the meat that Reg consumed. She supposed it was just like the stronger smells that a human could detect, the garlic, onions, or alcohol that someone had recently eaten. And she remembered kids at school with different ethnic backgrounds who smelled different because of the different foods and spices they ate.
Without Foresight Page 18
