Judy Christenberry - Snowbound Sweetheart

He was right. They discovered a filling station, obviously shut down, a Dairy Queen, no lights on, a couple of houses and finally the red fluorescent light appeared through the snow, flashing OTEL.

“I think we can assume that should say motel,” he said with a chuckle.

“I hope you’re right.” She turned off the road into the parking lot.

Gil studied as much as he could see of the motel and figured they’d be lucky to get a room. The parking lot was almost full.

“There’s the office,” he said, pointing to their right.

She eased the car through the crunchy snow and stopped as close to the office door as she could.

“If you’d like, I’ll go see what they’ve got available. I’ve already got my coat out,” he offered, careful to couch his idea as a suggestion.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

Surprised by her acquiescence without argument, he hurriedly got out into the storm before she could change her mind.

The cold sting of the snow attacked his exposed skin as he hurried toward the door, trying not to slip.

As soon as he got inside, closing the door behind him, he shook off the snow that covered him and stepped to the counter.

No one appeared to be on duty, but there was a button to push for assistance. After he’d followed directions, he heard footsteps. Then, a door behind the counter opened and an elderly man appeared.

“Evening. Didn’t hear anyone arrive. Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, a genial smile on his face. “We don’t usually do this much business.”

Gil would guess not. So far he hadn’t seen anything in Witherspoon that would attract travelers. Of course, he hadn’t seen much in the snowstorm, so he could be wrong.

“You’re in luck,” the man said. “I’ve got one room left. You want it?”

Gil frowned. “Only one room? We need two.”

“Sorry, young man. But one’s all I got. If you don’t want it, someone else will probably come along.”

Gil felt sure he was right. “Is there another motel in town?”

“Nope. This is it.”

The sound of another vehicle on the road just barely penetrated the room above the sound of the wind. Gil didn’t want to do any more driving in the storm. He hurriedly agreed to the one room, pulling out his credit card.

“We, uh, had to up the price a little, because of the storm, you know. Had to hire extra help to get all the rooms ready.” The man avoided Gil’s cynical gaze.

He wasn’t surprised to discover price-gouging. It happened all the time. In fact, he figured the man had a hard time making a living wage most days.

He waited for the man to run his credit card, thinking about the reaction he was bound to receive when he announced to Lindsay Crawford that they were going to share a motel room.

The man handed over an old-fashioned key. None of those fancy plastic cards that the hotels used these days. Gil almost smiled as he pocketed the key. Just as he put his hand on the door to venture out into the storm, he looked over his shoulder. “This room does have two beds, doesn’t it?”

The man stared at him, and Gil got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

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