Honor drove her rental car over the little bridge and pulled up next to the guardhouse at the entrance to the Belleview Biltmore Resort. “I’m checking in,” she whispered, her head pounding.
The stocky guard smiled and handed her a bright yellow parking slip for her dash. “Well, then, welcome to the largest wooden hotel in the World. I hope you have an enchanted stay, miss.”
She thanked him and eased her rental car along the curving, palm-lined drive toward the mammoth white structure, with nearly a hundred gables dotting its sprawling, green-shingled roof.
Despite the hangover and reason for the trip, Honor was enjoying her adventure so far, feeling a bit like a kid skipping school to take an unplanned holiday.
She had sobered up when security at O’Hare singled her out for a full-body scan; the penalty for making a last-minute, one-way reservation for the red-eye flight to Tampa.
Regretting her hastily made commitment, she was about say she changed her mind about the trip, when one of the security guards made a wisecrack about his girlfriend to a chuckling co-worker, reminding her of William. She stalked off to her gate without even looking back.
Now, her car glided to a stop at the hotel entrance and a cheerful valet opened her door. “I’m checking in,” she repeated—grinning despite the headache, as she suddenly remembered William’s dumbfounded reaction when she called him after landing in Tampa, to let him know she was going out of town for several weeks.
The valet signaled to waiting bellmen and extended his hand to help her from her car. Honor breathed in the salty air, enjoying the warm Florida sunshine on her bare arms. Quick to action, one bellman placed her luggage on a wheeled cart while two more pulled open the large double doors, welcoming her into the majestic, domed lobby of the grand hotel.
Her sneakers squeaked on the richly colored mosaic-tiled floor as Honor crossed to the massive mahogany registration desk. While the clerk processed her reservation, Honor gazed up at the arched ivory beams supporting the light pink dome. She marveled at the carved details on the cornices decorating the wide crown molding, and recalled how her mother had treasured this historic hotel. Even though they lived only a few blocks away, Faith Macklin had spent countless weekends here over the years.
A young bellhop took Honor’s key to the Presidential Suite, and led her down a long, broad corridor, which smelled of aged pine. Every twenty feet, an ornately carved beam arched across the towering hall, with a crystal and brass chandelier suspended from each ivory-painted peak. Between the beams, burgundy and forest green wallpaper covered the lower half of the walls beneath carved wainscoting, and these colors were echoed in the thick carpet runner. Huge, antique photographs hung on the cream wallpaper that covered the upper portion of the walls, depicting the hotel in its early days, along with many of its famous guests.
The enthusiastic bellhop entertained Honor with trivia as they walked. “This is known as the hotel time forgot. You know, they built these walkways wide enough that two women wearing hoopskirts could pass one another comfortably.” He waved a hand in the direction of the intricately patterned crimson carpet. “And check out the floor. Of course, the carpet has been replaced lots of times over the years, but most of those pine floor boards you see on either side of it are original 1896 construction.”
When he noticed Honor admiring the photographs, the bellman quipped mysteriously, “People say a few of those guests are still here with us.”
“Well, as long as ghosts don’t hog the covers, they won’t bother me,” Honor joked wryly.
The bellman laughed and pushed the button to call the elevator. “When the hotel first opened, it didn’t have elevators. I would have had to drag your suitcases up to your suite through a hidden staircase.” He winked, “Some changes are good.”
Despite the grand hotel entrance, Honor was not prepared for the antique elegance she encountered when the door to her suite swung open with a comfortable squeak. The rich mahogany furnishings, flocked burgundy wallpaper and ivory lace curtains made her feel as though she should have arrived with steamer trunks and an entourage of housekeeping staff.
The bellhop seemed to echo her thoughts. “Yes, ma’am, this suite is amazing.” He carried her suitcases to the master bedroom and laid them on the magenta floral bedspread that covered the enormous four poster bed. Then he gave her a tour of the apartment, starting with the separate master bedroom parlor, private balcony and large bath. He explained, “This part of the resort was remodeled several years ago. They pulled out the claw-footed tubs and replaced them with replicas that are actually state of the art Jacuzzi baths. Like I said before, some changes are good.”
Down the hallway were two bedrooms, a bath, partial kitchen, huge dining room and another small parlor. When he finished the tour, the bellhop wheeled his cart back into the hallway and wished her a nice stay. Honor gave him a generous tip and closed the door.
Her inner child wanted to continue playing hooky and explore the grounds of the hotel, but she knew she should unpack. She compromised by imagining what kinds of clothes she might have seen in the walk-in closet when the hotel first opened. No doubt it would have been filled with long, lace and satin dresses, feathered hats and ruffled petticoats. She could almost visualize them on the rod where her tee shirts and jeans now hung.
After settling in, she decided to take advantage of her private balcony, where she could enjoy the warm air and colorful landscape while writing a list of tasks she needed to accomplish during her stay. She listed only a few items before her eyes grew heavy.
On the lawn below, two Victorian ladies appeared, chatting lightly as they strolled casually under the balcony. One was stocky and wore a long, pink dress with a full bustle in the back. She carried a white, ruffled parasol. The other woman was thin and dressed in a high-necked white blouse, a long black skirt and held a simple black parasol. Both wore large hats, decorated with satin roses and several long feathers.
Honor gasped and jerked her head up; her eyes wide open. The lawn was empty. She shook her head, confused. She had never had such a realistic daydream before. She could still remember the sound of the ladies’ pleasant chatter and every detail of their attire.
“Whoa. I must be more tired than I realized. I’d better grab a bite to eat and turn in early.”
Honor wandered down to the hotel’s restaurant, where she elected to dine outside, overlooking the water. While waiting for her bowl of shrimp bisque and salad to arrive, she turned her personal cell phone on and frowned. Sixteen messages, all from William. With a heavy sigh, she began listening to his angry blasts, most of which started with lectures about her being unbelievably irresponsible and ending with questions for which he should already know the answers. What projects are in the works? Who is handling the various work orders? When do you meet with the technical staff? Why the hell did you leave town without your Blackberry?
She sighed, pressed his speed dial number, and braced herself for his angry tirade. She still wasn’t sure what she would tell him when he demanded more details about her sudden departure. Several times during the flight to Tampa, she thought about catching the first flight back to Chicago. And each time, she restored her motivation by remembering the afternoon William asked for a divorce.
It happened immediately after her mother’s funeral, while mourners were still gathering at her family’s home. He pulled her aside, saying he needed to talk to her about something important. Once they were out of earshot, he began an obviously rehearsed speech.
“There’s no easy way to say this, and I apologize for the timing, but it can’t wait. I still respect you and value you as a business partner, but I’ve fallen in love with someone else and want a divorce. Please try to understand. Sometimes the desires of the heart just can’t be denied.”
“Gag,” Honor uttered sarcastically at the memory of the conversation. She still believed he had followed the desires of an organ much lower on his body than his heart.
It turned out Miss Barely Legal, as Honor liked to call the pony-tailed blonde, was pregnant with his child and the reason William couldn’t wait was that she demanded a ring on her finger before their baby was born. This had been the most painful part for Honor because William had always said he didn’t want children—that their company, Soft Fix, was their baby.
Honor breathed a sigh of relief when William didn’t answer his phone. She left him a long message, answering all of his work-related questions and then, with uncharacteristic bravado, turned her phone off again. She glanced up just as the waitress approached her table and swung the serving platter deftly from her shoulder without spilling a drop of Honor’s sweet iced tea or bisque. The meal was delicious, but once her stomach was full, Honor could barely keep her eyes open. She found her way back to her suite, took a quick bath and settled into bed for the night, with her most recent checklist lying next to her unfinished.
She dreamed of the same ladies in long dresses, their parasols now closed as they conversed in white rocking chairs on the wide veranda porch. When they rose, Honor followed them leisurely down corridors smelling of freshly polished wood and orange blossoms, back to her own suite. There, they sat at her parlor table, contentedly sipping tea. “Such simple times. Such opulence. Such a well-ordered existence,” she voyeuristically observed.
The alarm clock woke her with a start.
Honor was momentarily confused - not only about where she was, but about what year it was. When she turned off the alarm, her surroundings came back into focus, but she couldn’t shake the eerie sensation that she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t like her to let her imagination run wild, but as she dressed, she shot glances over first one shoulder, then the other—half expecting to find the Victorian ladies at her parlor table.
Despite her unusual dreams, Honor felt very well-rested. She decided the bath before bed must have been the key to a great night’s sleep. “But from now on,” she chastised herself, “No more late-night meals to fuel crazy dreams!”
As she walked down the main corridor towards the restaurant for breakfast, Honor again noticed the old pictures hanging on the walls and stopped to read the brief captions below many of the photographs. She still didn’t understand why her mother spent so many weekends at this hotel, but Honor was beginning to grasp what she meant when she explained, “Staying at the Belleview Biltmore is a little bit like traveling back in time.”
Honor’s gaze froze on the photograph of a lady dressed in Victorian attire. The woman’s hair and facial features were so similar to Honor’s that she could have been mistaken for her sister, had the picture not been taken over a hundred years before. Moreover, she was sure this was one of the women she had seen in her dreams. “I must have seen this picture and subconsciously incorporated it into my fantasy because we look so much alike,” she rationalized.
Suddenly a little ball of dark brown hair with a red tee-shirt and blue jeans whirled into her, grabbing at her knees to keep from falling down. Instinctively, she reached for the little boy to catch him. “Whoa there, little guy! Where are you going in such a hurry?”