Power Play. Nancy Warren
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his near naked bod oozed testosterone and reminded her that she hadn’t had sex in far too long. “You don’t need 9–1-1,” he said in a low, bottom-of-the-gravel-pit voice. “You need an exterminator.”
Before her bemused gaze, he reached forward and plucked something from the plump girl’s shoulder. He held a flat black speck out on the edge of his finger. It was the size of a flax seed. He showed it to the flustered fellow in uniform.
“Bedbugs.”
By this time, more doors had opened along the corridor. A traveling salesman type yawned. “What’s going on?”
The couple in overcoats announced in unison, in horrified accents, “Bedbugs.”
The uniformed guy swallowed. Then looked up at the man in boxer shorts with appeal. “But the hotel’s full.”
“Not for long.”
Emily took a step away from the girls who were standing in shocked stillness. She didn’t blame them for looking so horrified.
Bedbugs? This was all she needed, on top of driving all the way from Portland to Elk Crossing for a wedding she didn’t want to attend with far too many of her family and friends asking nosy questions about her own continuing single status. This was the icing on the already hideous wedding cake. Decorated, she now recalled, with walnut-size marzipan pumpkins. And a tiny bride and groom perched on top, surrounded by faux fall leaves. No doubt by the actual wedding day, somebody would have thought to add a horn of plenty.
The thin girl lifted her arm. “I’m so itchy.” Even from across the hall Emily could see small red welts. And they were swelling.
Her irritation at the entire situation instantly changed to sympathy. “Let me see if I can find you some antihistamines,” she said.
Hairy Guy glanced her way and nodded in approval. Then he spoke to the two women, now both compulsively scratching.
“Go in the bathroom, strip off and shower in hot water. Hot as you can stand. Don’t put any of your clothes back on.”
He glanced at the hotel employee. “Get a female to bring them fresh towels and some clean robes.”
The guy nodded and trotted off. Fast.
With a hiccup and a “This is soo disgusting” the two women went back into their room.
“You,” he called to the useless guy in uniform who was already halfway down the hall. “You’d better get hold of the hotel manager.”
“This is not good,” Emily muttered, as she dug out her traveling medical kit. She’d had a tough enough time getting her family to accept that she wouldn’t be bunking down in some distant relative’s overflowing basement for the duration of the wedding festivities. Years of experience had taught her that she could manage her massive family if she stayed in a hotel. Wasn’t it exactly her luck to pick one with an insect problem?
She took the antihistamines over to the bedbug-infested room and knocked on the door. When the slimmer of the two women answered, wrapped in a towel, she held out the package. “Here.” She dropped the box into the girl’s outstretched hand.
“Thanks. I’ll take a few out and—”
“No, no. Keep them. They’re yours. Hope you feel better soon,” she said, and speedily retraced her steps back to her room.
Fifteen minutes had passed since she’d been woken. For a nanosecond she contemplated getting back into bed, then recalled the sight of that tiny insect on the guy’s finger.
She dashed to her bed and yanked down the covers, searching. Her sheets looked perfectly white. Nothing moving.
Her hair brushed her cheek and the slight tickle had her jumping and scratching at her face. No way she was getting back into that bed. Her sleep for the night was clearly over.
Her next stop was the bathroom where she stripped off and looked at herself from every angle. No bugs that she could see. No bites. She breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the shower, running it long and hot and washing her hair and body twice over.
Her mom must never find out about the vermin, she resolved as water ran over her body. Unfortunately, her mom and dad were already in Elk Crossing mostly so her mom could support her sister, Emily’s aunt Irene, in marrying off her daughter. As close as the two women were, Em knew it was killing her mother to see Irene’s daughter, Leanne, get married first. Since Leanne was more than five years younger than her own very unmarried—as in didn’t even have a steady boyfriend—daughter.
Naturally, they were staying at wedding central. A place Emily had already decided she’d spend as little time in as possible for the next week. Not that she didn’t love her family, but all that wistful longing and those unsubtle hints were hard on a girl.
She inspected the towel on the rail and then shook it vigorously before toweling herself dry.
There was a knock on her door. Wrapping the damp towel around her, she opened the door to a sleepy-looking chambermaid. “We’re very sorry, ma’am, but you’ll need to vacate your room.” The girl—she doubted she was even out of her teens—held a large, green Rubbermaid bin in her hands.
“No problem.” As if she’d sleep there another minute. “Just let me get dressed and get my stuff.”
“Um. You can’t.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The girl stepped inside and shut the door. Then she peeled the lid off the bin. Only now did Emily see that across the lid in faded black Sharpie ink were the words: Lost and Found. Women’s.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’m real sorry. But we have to launder everything, and treat your cases, too.” She stuck a fake bright smile on her face. “I’m sure there’s something in the lost and found bin that will fit you.”
“But, I don’t have bedbugs. I’m sure my room is fine.”
“I’m only doing what the manager told me to, ma’am. We’re evacuating and treating this entire wing. You want I should call him?”
“No. No.” She understood that they had to contain the infestation, and fast. The last thing she wanted was to be the unwitting bearer of bedbugs to her cousin’s wedding.
She looked inside.
The clothes inside that plastic tub were the kind that if you forgot them at a hotel you wouldn’t care enough to go back and retrieve them. Faded track pants, ancient sweatshirts, a bright pink faux silk blouse from the seventies, old jeans, some workout wear, a floral housecoat. A handful of bathing suits.
Emily couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. She saw herself showing up to today’s prewedding event, which was lunch and then some kind of craft project that involved making paper roses for the wedding. No doubt orange ones. When she imagined herself showing up in crumpled lost and found clothing, when her mother was always boasting about how successful she was, she laughed until she snorted.
The chambermaid stared at her as though she’d lost her mind, which only made her laugh harder. Finally, she wiped her eyes and thought: emergency shopping trip. “I’m going to need my purse.”
“Just your wallet. Leave everything else in the room. I’m really sorry, but we have to contain this.”
Stuff happened, Emily reminded herself. Then had a terrible thought.
“My bridesmaid gown. It’s in a plastic bag, it’ll be okay, won’t it?”
The girl looked doubtfully at the dress, clearly visible in its see-through bag and then back at Emily, as though wondering why anyone would want to save that gown. If it weren’t for the family thing, Em would agree with her.
“I know. It’s butt ugly, but if I don’t wear that dress down the aisle on Saturday for my cousin’s wedding,