Lee Madaris glanced at the clock on his wall before rubbing away the tension forming in the back of his neck. Although it was nearing midnight, he was still in his office working. It was imperative that he do so.

Five potential investors would be arriving tomorrow and spending four days at the Grand MD Vegas hotel. He would be catering to them at a level that was unprecedented. The five men had enough cumulative capital to balance the national budget, if they’d chosen to do so. However, balancing the national budget wasn’t Lee’s goal. His objective was to get them to invest in his next hotel—the Grand MD Paris.

After the success of the Grand MD Dubai, as well as all the attention the hotel in Vegas had received since opening its doors four months ago, a number of investors were ready to provide funds for his next venture. But he didn’t want just anyone; he wanted men willing to take a chance on a hotel that would be astonishingly different from its two predecessors. It would be a hotel of the future.

Both Grand MD hotels had been Madaris-Di Meglio joint ventures—highly successful and breaking sales records. But the third hotel, the one planned for Paris, France, would use state-of-the-art technology while maintaining the rich architectural design Paris was known for.

Lee’s cousin and the architect in the family, Slade Madaris, had designed the first two Grand MDs and would likewise design the one proposed for Paris. Slade’s design was nothing short of a masterpiece and would be unveiled at one of the meetings this week. Slade’s twin brother, Blade, would be the structural engineer. No two Grand MD hotels would look the same. Each would have its own unique architecture and appeal.

Pulling in a deep breath, Lee returned his attention to the documents in front of him—bios on the five men. The name that topped the list was that of his grand-uncle Jake Madaris. Lee didn’t need to read his uncle’s bio.

The man was a walking genius when it came to playing the stock market, and as far back as Lee could remember, Jake had been financial adviser to the entire Madaris family. If it hadn’t been for his uncle’s smart move of establishing a trust fund for all his nieces and nephews when they were still in high school, Lee would not have had the money to partner with his good friend DeAngelo Di Meglio to build their first two hotels.

Jake and another family friend, Mitch Farrell, had been the hotels’ financial backers. Mitch—the second man on the list—and Jake had already confirmed they were on board for the Paris hotel since the last two hotels had been a successful venture for them.

However, the price tag for a Paris hotel was higher than the price of the other two combined, and Jake had suggested bringing in other investors. All were good friends of Jake’s, but his uncle had warned Lee that convincing them to invest would be Lee’s responsibility.

He was ready.

The third person on the list was Kyle Garwood, a multimillionaire who made his primary home in Atlanta. Kyle was married, the father of six. Lee liked Kyle and highly respected him.

The last two men were sheikhs from the Middle East. Sheikh Rasheed Valdemon of Mowaiti had such a close relationship with the Madaris family that he had been named an honorary family member and occasionally went by the name of Monty Madaris when he did business in the United States.

Finally, there was Rasheed’s brother-in-law, Sheikh Jamal Ari Yasir of Tahran. Lee had never met Sheikh Yasir but had heard he was a shrewd businessman, always looking for a good investment. He was married to an American woman, the former Delaney Westmoreland.

Lee would be wining and dining the five men in the Grand MD style. Everything was in place and would be set in motion as soon as they arrived tomorrow morning.

Their visit had been strategically planned down to the last detail. They would be given a tour of the hotel before they were served lunch. Since tomorrow was a traveling day, no meetings had been planned. However, early the following day, Lee’s skilled marketing team would kick things off with several video presentations and meetings. Around three, the men and their wives would be given the chance to rest and relax before a dinner fit for royalty.

Afterward, they would enjoy the nightlife Vegas was famous for—from right inside the Grand MD. The casinos, live shows, state-of-the-art IMAX theater and the exquisite mall on the fifth floor that offered twenty-four-hour shopping all guaranteed that the Grand MD would gain a reputation as the hotel that never closed.

A winning hotel had to have a winning staff. He and Angelo had handpicked all of his executives and managers. Each had hotel experience and had come with sterling resumes and excellent recommendations. He and Angelo were pleased with every staff member, and those who didn’t deliver were quickly replaced. Second-best was not an option at the Grand MD.

Lee moved away from his desk, intending to walk around and get his blood flowing, but the moment he stepped into the executive suite’s lobby he stopped to stare at the huge picture hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of his great-grandmother Felicia Laverne Madaris the First, whom they fondly called Mama Laverne.

She was the matriarch of the Madaris family. Having borne seven sons, his grandfather Lee being one of them, Mama Laverne had raised her sons by herself after her husband, Milton, had died. All her sons were still alive except for Robert, who had been killed in the Vietnam War. Lee’s grand-uncle Jake was Laverne’s baby boy.

Mama Laverne had insisted that Lee hang this particular picture of her right there on that wall. She’d given the same directive to his other cousins. They all had the same framed photograph hanging in the offices of their various businesses. She was dressed in her Sunday best, with a huge dressy hat on her head, and she appeared to be looking directly at the viewer with those shrewd eyes and an all-knowing smile. At least she was smiling. A Mama Laverne frown could make him quake in his boots. She definitely liked giving orders, and she expected them to be carried out.

Lee chuckled. He wished he could say she was getting bossy in her old age, but as far back as he could remember, she’d always been bossy. Besides that, she was a notorious busybody when it came to meddling in the lives of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Even at ninetysomething, he figured she would still be around to meddle with the great-great-grands’ lives as well.

He didn’t want to think of a time when she would no longer be in their midst. Their love for her was the main reason why he and his still-single brothers and cousins overlooked a lot of her shenanigans, especially her determination to marry off each of them.

Closing the door behind him, he walked along the spacious lobby hallway, noting the elegance, style and sophistication that were such integral parts of his Vegas hotel. Besides being the tallest building on the Strip, with seventy-five floors, it had an amusement park on one of its lower levels, making it an ideal place to stay for both adults and families. From the carpeting on the floor to the paintings on the wall, from the furnishings to the hotel’s special amenities, anyone would agree that the hotel deserved the seven-star rating reviewers were giving it.

Sliding back huge glass doors, he stepped out onto the terrace of the executive suite. Normally, he wasn’t one who took the time to appreciate a lot of greenery, but with the quality of the hotel on his mind, he couldn’t help doing so. Various plants had been flown in just for this terrace.

Lee inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the plants mixed with the September air. He looked beyond the Vegas view to study the looming desert. The rain had lessened the heat and now a sultry breeze stirred the air. The sky overhead looked dark and dreary. There didn’t seem to be a single star. A part of him longed to be back in Houston, gazing up into a Texas night.

Lee shook off the longing. He had too much work to do to be melancholy. He hadn’t been home since last Christmas and another one would be coming up soon, but opening the two Grand MDs had taken up all his time, personally and professionally. Now luring investors for a third hotel would make him even busier.

Just as he turned to go back inside, his gaze landed on a woman standing on the balcony a couple of levels below. His breath was snatched from his lungs. A low groan passed from his lips as a jolt of sexual energy rocked him to the bone.

She was beautiful. Sensually stunning. Picture-perfect.

She stood leaning against the balcony rail, wearing a sexy green dress and chocolate-colored stilettos, her hair blowing in the breeze. From her expression, as she stared down below, he could tell she was fascinated by the bright lights of the Strip.

Was she a guest at the hotel? He scanned the balcony connected to a tri-level observation deck. It appeared she was alone. Something about her pulled at him. She looked happy, peaceful, but lonely.

Lee didn’t know the woman yet he felt as if he could read her perfectly. He stood and watched her, totally mesmerized. A slow heat flowed through him and pooled in his groin—she was arousing him in a way no other woman had. What was there about her that made every muscle in his stomach tie into knots? Made full awareness of her fill his every pore?

Granted, he hadn’t dated in a while because of his stringent work schedule, but still, there was something about this particular woman that had lust rushing through his veins.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He checked his watch. It was getting late, but he had to meet that woman and find out why he found her so captivating.

Anticipation filled him as he made his way off the terrace and toward the elevator bank.

She simply loved it here, Carly thought. Bright lights lit the Strip and each hotel seemed to compete to shine the brightest.

It was hard to believe she had gotten the job of pastry chef at the Grand MD’s Peyton’s Place restaurant a little more than a month ago. The hotel had been gracious enough to give her time to resign from her job in Miami and remain in Florida long enough to pack up her things and attend Heather’s wedding.

Initially, she had missed South Beach and wondered if she would ever get acclimated to Vegas’s dry summer heat. But she had discovered that in addition to being a fun city with its infamous Strip, Vegas was also a nice place to live.

Her house was in a residential area of town not far from shopping. Because she had everything she needed right at her fingertips she rarely came into town on her days off.

Except for today.

Today was her twenty-eighth birthday, and she had decided to celebrate with a night on the town. She had even treated herself to a night at the Grand MD. It had to be the most beautiful hotel she had ever seen. Her room on the fiftieth floor was to die for and the service was excellent.

Carly had stumbled across this particular balcony a few weeks ago while on break. She loved the view, and it had become her favorite. There had been several other couples here earlier, enjoying the view as well, but they had departed, leaving her alone. She didn’t mind. It was the story of her life.

Carly forced the depressing thought from her mind.

After all, it was her birthday and she intended to have fun. So far it had been a beautiful day. Before leaving home this morning she’d gotten calls from Aunt Ruthie and Heather. They had remembered, and they were the only two people in her life that counted.

There was a party going on in one of the ballrooms upstairs. She could hear the music playing, a Marvin Gaye classic. She felt like dancing. What the heck. It was her birthday and she had every right to be silly if she wanted to.

Turning from the rail, she waltzed across the floor. She closed her eyes and pretended she was at a party, celebrating her birthday in style, dancing around a ballroom filled with tall, dark, handsome men. One would come forward, claim her hand and ask—

“May I have this dance?”

At the sound of the deep, husky voice, Carly’s eyes flew open and she stared into the most gorgeous pair of dark eyes she’d ever seen. And there was a very handsome face to go along with those eyes. Where on earth had he come from? She blinked, wondering if she was still clutched in the throes of her fantasy. She had to be.

“Are you real?” she asked, making sure she hadn’t conjured him up in her mind.

He smiled and the sight of the dimple in his chin nearly brought her to her knees. It definitely caused every hormone in her body to sizzle.

“Yes, I’m real. Now, how about that dance,” he said, taking her hand in his. A different song was playing now, this one by Luther Vandross.

Carly nodded her consent and he pulled her into his arms. The man was a total stranger. Had it not been her birthday, she would not have allowed him to hold her. But she had already decided that it was okay for her to act silly today. And it wasn’t every day that such a good-looking man asked her to dance. Not only was he handsome, but he smelled good too. And to top it off, they danced well together. The way their bodies swayed and moved against each other had her fighting a desire she hadn’t felt in close to four years.

A desire that had never been this strong.

She was reminded how it felt to be held by a man, in powerful arms. Every part of her body tuned in to the solid hardness of his. It was staggering; she was mindful of his every movement, the steady sound of his breathing, the way his arms encircled her waist.

Carly looked up at him to find him staring down at her. His predatory look made her insides simmer. Swallowing deeply, she said softly, “Where did you come from?”

He smiled again and she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. “From my terrace.”

She nodded. He was a guest at the hotel.

“What about you? Are you a guest here?” he asked.

“Yes.” She wasn’t lying. She had checked into the hotel that day. There was no need to tell him she also worked here. “It’s a beautiful hotel.”

“I think so too. I’m Lee, by the way.”

“I’m Carly.”

His smile widened. “Nice meeting you, Carly. Is there a reason you were dancing alone?”

Her face warmed as she wondered if he thought she’d looked ridiculous. “It’s my birthday and—”

“Happy birthday,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. I was having my own private party of one.”

He tilted his head. “That’s no fun. A beautiful woman should never party alone.”

He was smooth, she thought. As smooth as he was handsome. And she’d noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. She knew some men didn’t cherish the sanctity of marriage vows, but she did.

“For me that’s no problem. I’m a loner anyway,” she said.

“Why?”

Excerpt From The Christmas Town

by Elyse Douglas

They crept along, eye-weary, back-weary and bone-weary.  They’d been driving for over an hour and they had not seen another car, road sign, house or town.

“Okay, I’m freakin’ out,” Megan said.  “I mean, if we don’t see some sign of life in the next few minutes, I am going to freak out!”

“Let’s try to stay calm.”

“I wonder if this is instant karma,” Jackie said, her shoulders stooped, eyes darting about nervously.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how we got this car.  I know you lied to that man back there. I know it. Your mother doesn’t need medication, and now we are being punished.”

“Don’t blame me,” Megan said.  “If it hadn’t been for me, we wouldn’t have gotten the car in the first place.”

“And I wouldn’t be out in the middle of freakin’ nowhere!”

“Look, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Megan said.

“I just can’t believe you lied to him.”

“Stop it!  Okay?  Maybe I feel bad about it.”

Jackie was sweating.  “I doubt it, and that was a nasty thing to do.  I mean that was just wrong.  He was so nice to you and you just lied to him.  And, it’s Christmas.”

“I said, stop it!” Megan said.

“I thought there was something funny about the way you acted when he shook your hand,” Jackie said.

“Jackie, that’s enough.  Just let it go!  While we’re arguing we could be passing a house or motel.  I don’t see anything but this blinding snow.”

The wind howled like a wild animal, and snow blew across the road, piling into drifts against the base of trees.

“How far have we gone so far?” Megan asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe 40 or 50 miles.”

Megan blew out an audible sigh.  “I feel like I’m in a snow globe and some crazy kid just keeps shaking it.”

“Dramatic,” Jackie said.

“Scared,” Megan shot back.

Megan thought she saw a sign ahead, caked in snow and leaning precariously to the right, as if a burst of wind would blow it down.

“Jackie, stop!  Look.  I think there’s a sign over there.  See it?”

Jackie slowed, saw the sign and stopped. “God, I hope it tells us where we are.”

Megan struggled into her coat and gloves and pulled on her hat.  She shoved the door open, braced against the wind, and got out.  Snow lashed at her face and she turned away, protecting her face with her hand.  She trudged through nearly a foot of snow until she reached the sign, illuminated by the car beams.  With her right hand, she brushed snow from the sign, little by little, until she was able to read HOLLY and then GROVE 1 MILE.  A little black arrow pointed right.  Megan looked right, shading her eyes, and peered into the distance.  She saw something.  She saw the shadow of a covered bridge, looming out in the blur of snow.  That must be it.  The town was across the bridge.  Energized, she whirled, stomped back to the car and got in.

She was breathing rapidly.  “It’s wild out there,” she said, shivering.  “There’s a bridge just ahead.  Holly Grove is about a mile away.”

“Sounds quaint,” Jackie said.  “I hope they have a motel and an all-night restaurant.”

Jackie drove toward the bridge, the narrow road to the bridge looking dark and foreboding.

“Wait a minute, Jackie.”

Jackie paused before making the turn.  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  I just hate to leave the main road.”

“Megan, across that bridge is a town.  We have passed absolutely nothing on this ‘so-called’ main road.  Please, let’s just get across the bridge and spend the night in Holly Grove.”

Megan nodded, still reluctant.

Jackie made the turn.  But at the threshold of the bridge, Megan called out again.

“Stop!”

Jackie hit the brakes again, irritated.  “Megan, what?”

Megan stared at the bridge.  It wasn’t a large bridge, probably no more than 90 feet across a rocky stream, but something gnawed away at her, some ineffable feeling of danger that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Megan?” Jackie said, seeing a far-away look in Megan’s eyes.  “What are we waiting for?”

“Okay, okay…It’s just that…”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Jackie nudged the car forward and it rattled across the bridge.  The two girls held their breath in the cave-like interior, darkness swallowing them, the wind screaming through the cracks all around them.

When they finally exited on the other side, they released trapped air from their lungs.

“Wow, that gave me the creeps,” Megan said.

Jackie looked about uneasily.  “What a freaky night this is.”

They passed through a gray and white shroud of blowing snow.  Suddenly, as if a curtain were being drawn from both sides of a stage, a gust of wind passed over the car and blew the snow away.

Jackie stopped the car.  The girls looked at each other, then blinked around in astonished wonder.

“What happened?” Megan asked.

Jackie was speechless.

There was snow on the ground, but only two or three inches.  There was no sound of wind, no blowing snow, just a few gentle flurries.  The whispering sound of the windshield wipers was loud in the sudden silence and Jackie switched them off.  They sat there, staring.  Jackie rolled down the window and felt a cool, intoxicating breeze on her face.  She looked up into the sky and saw a few stars and a ghostly near-full moon swimming over the top of a distant shadowy mountain.

Megan opened the door and stepped out, without hat or gloves.  She turned in a circle, smelling fresh pine, hearing the splashing stream they’d just crossed.  It was quiet, a deep satisfying quiet that relaxed her.  She took an easy breath and smiled.

“Jackie… it’s beautiful,” she said, as she held out her hand to catch a few random snowflakes.

Jackie stepped out.  It was still cold, but not a punishing cold.  There was a softness in the air.  Megan looked at Jackie, her brows raised in query.  She shrugged.  Jackie shrugged.  It was as though they were suddenly watching the world at a slower movie projector speed.

Jackie saw a glow, just ahead, advancing toward them.  She pointed, excited. “Megan, look!  A light or something, up ahead.”

Megan turned.  “Yes!  What is it?”

Through the smoky cloud of fog, two glowing headlights slowly approached.

“It’s a car!  Megan, it’s a car.  Let’s wave it down.  Hurry!”

Framed in the headlights, the girls walked to the front of the car, and waved, using both arms.  The car began to slow to a stop.

Megan gave Jackie the thumb’s up.  Jackie stayed back, but Megan moved toward the stopped car as the driver’s window rolled half way down.  Megan drew up along side and looked in to see an elderly man, with wary, watery eyes peering up at her.

White vapor puffed from her mouth as she spoke.  “Hi there.  Thank God you came by.  We’re lost and we haven’t seen anything or anybody for miles.”

The man didn’t blink.  He just stared.  He stared at Megan.  He stared at Jackie.  He stared at their car.

Megan noticed his car.  It was old—a very old black car—dusted with snow.  She noticed the running board and heavy fenders.  It looked like something out of the Bonnie and Clyde movie her father repeatedly watched.

Megan was actually looking at a 1934 Ford Tudor Sedan, two-door body.

“Can you help us?” Megan asked.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he barked.

“We were trying to get to Portland and we must have missed the turn-off somewhere back.”

“I’ll say you did.  You’re a good 30 miles away from it.  You’re going in the wrong direction.”

“We haven’t seen a motel or anything.  Is there somewhere we can spend the night?”

He kept looking at her strangely, then he stared at Jackie again, and then at their car.  “What is that?”

Megan followed his eyes. “What?  Our car?”

“Yeah.  What is that?”

“It’s our car.”

He shook his head.  “Dang, I ain’t never seen a car like that before.  What is it?”

“It’s a Ford.  A Ford Fusion Hybrid.”

“A what!?” he asked, pinching up his face and cupping his ear with his hand.  “What did you say it was?”

“It’s a Ford.  Can you please tell me where the nearest town or motel is?”

He couldn’t pull his eyes from the car.  “Ain’t never seen anything like that.”

“Sir, please!  We are very tired and very hungry.”

He looked at her again and jerked a thumb behind him.  “Holly Grove is about a mile up the road.”

He rolled up his window, threw the car in gear and plodded off.  Jackie waved.  As he passed the Ford Fusion, his eyes bulged wildly, face blank with shock.  He pressed down on the accelerator, hurrying off into the night.

Megan strolled back to Jackie.

“What did he say?” Jackie asked.

“Well, I guess he’s never seen a hybrid before.”

They got back into the car and continued on into the uncertain night, straining every muscle to see the town.   Moments later, they came to some railroad tracks, bumped across them and saw a white sign with black letters that read

WELCOME TO HOLLY GROVE VERMONT POP 5,400

“That’s what I call a small town,” Megan said.

“What time is it?” Jackie asked.

Megan checked her phone.  It was still dead.  She looked at her watch.  “Nine forty.”

They crested a little hill and entered the quiet town along Main Street.  The first thing they saw was a billboard sign.  It loomed large over a low dark warehouse.  There was a large picture of a white pack of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum over a bright green mint leaf.  The advertisement read: SPEARMINT HAS GONE TO WAR.

Jackie said, “What’s that all about?”

They passed 19th century brick storefronts, a post office, a pawn shop and a barber shop, with a Christmas wreath hanging inside its window.  All the signs were turned off.  They saw Dandy’s Market and Dot’s Café.  Plastered on the red brick face of Dandy’s Market were soda signs: Coca-Cola, Orange Crush and Royal Crown Cola.  They also noticed a large poster with the photograph of a cute boy about 5 years old, with ruffled brown hair and a pleading, sorrowful expression.  He wore a white shirt, and had a little blue ribbon and medal around his neck.  He was holding a toy car.  Below the photo it read:

HE KNOWS WHY THIS CHRISTMAS
ALL OF US SHOULD GIVE WAR BONDS

That struck the girls as odd, but their attention was drawn to the deserted streets.  The town must have shut down for the night, they thought.  What struck them as particularly strange were the cars parked at an angle by the curb.  They were all old, as old as the one that had stopped back up the road, and they looked bulky, blocky and heavy.

“I’ve seen cars like this in those silent movies.  Those Charlie Chaplin movies,” Megan said.

“Those two pickup trucks are definitely vintage.  This town must be poor,” Jackie said.

Jackie and Megan were processing this as they drove by the town square, with its tall stately Christmas tree, elaborate manger scene, and old redbrick courthouse with a white-faced Roman numeral clock tower.

At the Gulf gas station, Jackie slowed down as they took in the two obelisk-type antique looking pumps.  They saw a sign that said GAS 14 CENTS A GALLON.  Next to that was another sign written by hand.  NO GAS.

The pump on the left had rolling type numbers, and the one on the right had a clock face, showing a dial-type gas meter.

Megan read a stand-alone sign near the entrance.

GET IN THE SCRAP
OFFICIAL RUBBER COLLECTION DEPOT

Jackie’s face fell into perplexity. “What’s going on here?  A gallon of gas for 14 cents?”

“The whole town looks like some kind of old movie or something,” Megan said.  “And there’s nobody around.  This place is giving me the creeps.”

“We’ve got to find a place to stay,” Jackie said.  “I am absolutely exhausted.”

“I’m so hungry,” Megan said, hearing her stomach growl.  “I’d love a Katz’s Corned Beef sandwich.”

“Oh, God, they are so good, aren’t they?  How much are those now?”

“15.95.”

“Really?”

“It’s worth it.”

They saw Green’s Drugstore and John’s General Store, with a 6-foot Christmas tree outside.  Just then, a young man about 15 or 16 stepped out of Green’s Drugstore, carrying several little brown bags.  When he saw them, he froze in utter shock, his eyes bulging, mouth open.  He actually did a double-take.

Jackie stopped, and Megan rolled down her window and waved at him.

“Hello there,” Megan said.

The boy was rigid.  Then he trembled.

“Is there a hotel or motel or Bed & Breakfast nearby?” Megan asked.

The boy swallowed, whipped his head about, as if calculating the best route for escape, and then bolted away right.  He found a narrow alley, skidded on his heels, and disappeared.

Megan turned in a slow confusion, facing Jackie.  Jackie lifted a puzzled eyebrow.  “What was that all about?”

Megan lowered the sun visor and examined herself in the little mirror. “I know I’m tired, but do I look that bad?”

Jackie massaged her temples. “This has been the strangest trip I have ever taken.  Let’s just try to find someplace to eat and sleep and forget this crazy little excursion ever happened.”

They drove on toward the outskirts of town, passing THE GROVE movie theatre.  The movie marquis displayed  GIRL CRAZY, starring  Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney.

“I saw that on TCM a few months ago,” Megan said.

Jackie stared, darkly.  “There is something going on, Megan.  Something… weird.”

After the movie theatre, they spotted The Grove Hotel, but it was closed.  Fighting fatigue and despair, they turned off Main Street onto Maple Street, a quiet tree-lined street with neat framed houses, and the occasional vintage automobile parked in the driveway or along the deserted street.

“I just can’t get over all these old cars,” Megan said.  “They look like something out of those old gangster movies.”

“Will you stop it with the old cars, Megan?  Please?  Find us someplace to stay.  If our stupid phones worked, we could have found something by now.  What the hell is the matter with this place?  I am going to go out of my mind if we don’t find some place to stay, and soon.”

“Okay, okay, calm down.  Let’s stay positive,” Megan said.

“To hell with positive!” Jackie shouted.  “I need something to eat, and something to eat now!  I am going to lose it!”

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No!  I do not want you to drive.  I want you to find us a place to eat.”

Megan spotted something.  “Jackie!  Stop.  Look over there.”

Jackie slammed on the brakes and they rocked forward, Megan’s hands braced against the dashboard.

Jackie followed Megan’s pointing finger to a modest two-story house, with a white fence surrounding a little yard.  Above the porch, hanging by two thin chains, was a sign that said BOARDING HOUSE.  It was swinging easily in the modest breeze.

“The sign on the porch says boarding house,” Megan said, excited.

Jackie crouched and looked. “Are there any lights on?”

“I don’t care.  Let’s try it.”

Jackie parked at the curb, killed the engine, and the two girls snatched their coats and got out.  Jackie led the way, with energy and purpose.  She crossed the sidewalk, released the latch on the white gate and marched up the walkway, mounting the three concrete stairs to the door, where a Christmas wreath was hanging from inside.  Megan arrived, and both shaded their eyes, peering inside through the square glass that was covered by a white laced curtain.

“I see a light on in a back room,” Jackie said.

Megan noticed something hanging in the picture window.  She stepped over to examine it.  It was a blue star on a small red cloth banner.  She shrugged and joined Jackie.

Jackie gently pressed the doorbell.  They heard a soft DING DONG.  They waited, anxiously, taking in the silent neighborhood.  There were no lights on anywhere and it was very dark.

“No action in this town,” Megan said.  “It reminds me of a town in Indiana where I did summer stock a few years ago.  Two months there seemed like two years.”

The front room light flickered on, not the porch light.  The girls inhaled hopeful breaths.  They saw an elderly woman draw back the lace curtain and peek out.  The girls gave her their friendliest smiles.

A moment later, the door opened, but only a couple of inches.

“Hello,” Jackie said, brightly.  “Can you help us?”

The door opened a little wider.  She was a small, thin woman and a bit stooped.  Her white hair was up in a bun and she wore a long gray nightgown.  Peering out from the granny spectacles on the end of her nose, she looked at them slowly and carefully.  “What do you want?”

“Please…”  Jackie said.  “We have been traveling for hours and hours and we are so tired and hungry.  Do you have room for us?”

The woman hesitated, then opened the door fully.  Her eyes widened as she studied them, up and down.  “It’s late.  Why are you out so late?”

“We got lost.  We were trying to get to Portland.”

“Portland?  That’s hours away.  You would have run out of gas.  There’s no gas anywhere.  Did you get it on the black market?  I don’t take people who cheat.  I’ve got a grandson fighting in Italy.”

Megan and Jackie exchanged mystified glances.  Both were thinking, “Is this woman nuts?”

Then Megan recalled how she’d lied about her mother and the medication so she could get the car.  She had cheated.  Megan gave Jackie a coy glance.

Jackie said, “No ma’am, we don’t cheat.  We just want a room.  Please.”

“I only have one, with one double bed.  The other two rooms are occupied with regulars.”

“That’s fine,” Jackie said.  “One room is fine.”

The woman was conflicted.  “This is very unusual.  I only take in people I know or who are referred to me.  How many nights are you wanting to stay?”

“Just tonight,” Megan said, twisting her cold hands.  “Please.  We are so tired.”

The woman stepped aside, let them in and then closed the door.

“My name is Aunt Betty.  May I know your names?”

“I’m Jackie Young and this is Megan…” Jackie looked at Megan, forgetting her last name.

“Jennings.  Megan Jennings.”

“Well, that’ll be a dollar each for the night and 35 cents each for breakfast.  If you want something to eat tonight that’ll cost you 50 cents.  I was going off to bed, but I’ll put something out for you.”

Megan stared into Jackie’s uncertain eyes.

“You mean one single dollar each?” Jackie asked.

“That’s a fair price,” Aunt Betty said, a little defensively.

“Oh, yes, that’s very fair,” Megan said, quickly.  “That’s fine, Aunt Betty.  And we’d love something to eat.  We don’t want to put you out.  Anything that’s easy.”

“You get your things then and I’ll take out some cold chicken, apple pie and bread.  I hope that’ll do.”

The girls smiled, gratefully.  “That sounds wonderful,” Jackie said.

After Aunt Betty padded off toward the kitchen, the girls took in the surroundings.

The living room seemed from another world.  It was a simple square room, with a mantel, hearth and several seascapes set in gilded frames. The mantel held a manger scene, some holly surrounding it, and a white candle in the center.  Next to that were simply framed black and white photos of what must have been family.  There was a meager 3-foot Christmas tree, garlanded, with ornaments but no Christmas lights.

The room was clean enough, but both women noticed that the white paint had yellowed and the rose wallpaper was faded, with some damp spots.  They saw floral Victorian antique lamps with opaque glass stems, hand-painted with roses or white and yellow flowers.

They stood on a thin, patterned floral carpet and first heard, and then saw, an old grandfather’s clock standing resolutely in the corner.  Its tick tock was steady and loud in the muted silence.  A solid wood console radio, with a lighted dial, seemed to dominate the room, much as a TV would, but neither Jackie nor Megan saw a TV.

The furniture was simple and heavy, the couch and chair upholstered in solid fabrics, the couch looking worn but comfortable, and the broad arm chair sunken and looking dejected.

Jackie sensed something was wrong, but she was too hungry and tired to care.  Megan glanced about, feeling strangely out of place and time.  There was a quality of light and energy around them that neither had ever experienced before, and it was unsettling.  There was a growing, uncomfortable sensation that they had become lost—very lost.

1: Disillusion

Ruhi Sharma was a blushing bride, practically a newlywed, locked up in this glittering cage for almost a month, twenty-nine days to be exact; an object of envy of all her friends and family.

Twenty-nine days ago, she had signed her name beside his on the marriage certificate. She had gone through all the miscellaneous ceremonies associated with the typical grand Indian wedding—the engagement, the Mehendi, the Sangeet, the Haldi, and the grand finale (her father had spared no expense) until finally her betrothed had staked his claim by placing the Sindoor on her forehead and tying the Mangalsutra around her neck, and she had quietly and blissfully followed him around the sacred fire carefully listening to and reciting the Saath Pheras in her mind.

She was the very beautiful and accomplished daughter of Amrit and Devyani Sharma, the apple of their eye, and they had left no stone unturned in raising her the best way they possibly could.

Friends and family were surprised for not only had Ruhi been provided with a very good education, she held an MBA from a leading institution, but her parents had also made sure that she was adept in all other various skills, which a well-bred traditional Indian girl is desired to be proficient in. Therefore, nobody marveled when marriage proposals came pouring in from all directions.

But the Sharmas were choosy; they wanted only the best for their golden child, and they did get it, or so they surmised.

The idea of giving their daughter’s hand in marriage to the well-accomplished son of the most well-known family in Chandigarh was beyond their wildest imagination. It was wilder because they hadn’t gone in search of it, rather it had come and landed on their lap.
Shaan, the youngest and most eligible of the Ahuja clan, was twenty-seven, a fresh aerospace masters grad from a premier engineering institute located in the Los Angeles county of United States, California, who had already bagged a plum job in a leading aeronautics and space exploration company in sunny LA.
“My son makes interplanetary spacecraft. He’s the man of the future” had become the proud and frequent rant of Mr. Shiv Ahuja, who for some odd reason seemed to be trying to paint his son in the most rosy of tones even though he really didn’t need to, for as soon as Ruhi saw her future husband’s likeness, she lost her heart, and there was no question of a retrieval.

—o—

“Chai?”
“Huh? Yes please with just a pinch of sugar. Thanks!” He took the cup from her hands, careful not to touch her fingers.
Ruhi closed her eyes; she could now repeat every movement, every word by rote. He was a creature of habit…and she was bored. What was supposed to be the most exciting time in every young woman’s life had turned out to be the worst…Well, not really. He wasn’t mean, rather he was the perfect gentleman, too perfect!
Oh how she wished he would rather be screaming mean and nasty. At least that would bring some excitement into her not so-happening life! She laughed, pausing as she brushed her long black hair, rather hysterically.
The bombshell had dropped on their wedding night. He had walked into the room late as she sat there, a shy bride in all her wedding finery waiting, nervous yet excited at the same time, to meet the man she had hardly spoken to or looked at. What would he say, talk about, or do?

She had heard a lot of stories about what to expect, some factual and some fabricated (her friends had prepared her well), but she wanted her own to be special, unique, and it was…
Sitting down on the bed in front of her, he had taken her hand in his and said very gently, as if to tone down the trauma, “I bet you are one of the most beautiful brides in the world, but I’m sorry I cannot make love to you. There is someone else.”
Not sure if she’d heard right, Ruhi had watched puzzled as he lay down on the mattress and turned his back to her. Is that it? A plain and blunt dismissal of her dreams, her life? Was that all?