Vacation Preparations: A Short Story

New bellman Maurice encounters a resourceful guest with a mysterious tote bag. What’s in the bag and who is she?

Maurice stood catching his breath at the bell stand and watched the people outside the glass lobby doors. Any minute now one or two or a group of people would enter the lobby corralling baggage from a taxi or shuttle. It was only his first day after finishing the three days of training and he had quickly learned that Chestnut Street Hotel was much busier than the hotel his family ran. It should be, it was bigger and fancier. He would definitely learn a lot here he could use when his parents retired and it was his turn to run the family business.

The doors opened and a woman with shortish grey hair – the word bobbed popped into Maurice’s mind from who knew where – wearing a floating white shirt, soft checked pants, and those wedge straw shoes many women seemed to wear on vacation strode in. She looked dressed for vacation but she walked as if she was at a job. As she walked up to the registration desk, the desk attendant Kathy smiled at the woman, who nodded back.

Kathy welcomed the new guest by name, as they were trained to do.

“Welcome to Chestnut Street Hotel, Ms. Sabal. We hope you enjoy your stay. Are you here for business or pleasure?” said Kathy.

“I haven’t traveled for pleasure in a long time, but this trip is a gift from my brother. There are some sights around here that I’ve always wanted to see. And I’m looking forward to using the spa,” said Ms. Sabal.

“We have an excellent spa – here is a list of the services.” Kathy continued through various instructions and offerings as Ms. Sabal signed forms, took a few other brochures, plus a business card from a pile on the counter, and placed everything except the room key into a big orangey-tan tote. Maurice couldn’t tell if it was leather or not. It was pretty big and she also had a rolling case. He stepped forward towards the desk.

“I’m fine,” said Ms. Sabal with a smile to Maurice and Kathy when Kathy asked if she would like help up to her room. Maurice smiled back in acknowledgement, wondering what else was in the tote.

As the week went on, he found out.

On Monday, a group of about eighteen people, probably friends and family, moved into the lobby seating area and seemed to decide to continue whatever they were celebrating right in the center of the marble floors and cushy benches. At least they weren’t blocking people walking to the registration desk. They were all centered around a young woman and many held handmade glittery cardboard signs that read “Con-GRAD-ulations Regina.”

Near the back of the group close to the bell stand, a short young woman in a pretty yellow dress held her phone camera up, taking photos. She would take a few photos, then look at them on her phone and frown. Maurice guessed she didn’t like the photos when he saw her eyeing a nearby table and bench as if she might try to stand on top of one of them. Maurice had to stop her. He didn’t want her to fall. Surely guests climbing the furniture wouldn’t go over well during his first week. Suddenly someone had thrust a plastic square into his hand. He looked down at the plastic, which looked like folded panels, then saw Ms. Sabal smiling at him, nodding her head towards the girl. Maurice pulled on the plastic and it turned into a little step stool.

He placed the stool in front of the young woman who smiled brightly at him. “Oh thank you!” she exclaimed and stepped up. Now she was just above everyone’s heads. She happily snapped photos of the hugging and chatting family and friends. As the chatter and hugs quieted, an older man led the group towards the restaurant. The young woman hopped off the stool and returned it to Maurice with a very warm and pretty smile. He stashed it under the bell stand to return to Ms. Sabal.

On Tuesday, as Maurice was walking along an upstairs hallway, he heard a meow. That was odd. He stopped to look around and heard voices at the ice machine vending room. He recognized Ms. Sabal’s orangey tote from the corner he could see sticking out of the doorway of the room. From the location of the tote, he guessed she might be kneeling. He edged closer and heard a girl say tearfully, “Mom told me not to bring him, but I couldn’t leave him home alone he would just escape and come try to find us, and so I hid him in my case to come here with me, and Mom was mad when she found out, and then she said it’s too late, we’re here now, so don’t tell anyone, and she put newspaper in the bathroom, and I was supposed to keep him in the there, but he just ran out, and then I lost him, and look at how he likes that fishy stuff, what is that stuff?”

“It’s tuna fish,” said Ms. Sabal. “I just happened to have a little packet in my bag in case of emergencies.”

“And this was a ‘mergency,” said the girl.

Maurice felt his stomach tighten at the thought of reporting an unknown kitten to the hotel manager. What would he do about it? Would the girl’s mother get charged more? Be asked to leave? Really, what was it hurting if she had a kitten?

 “I have to get back to the room, my mom was on the phone, but we’re supposed to be leaving now, and I was packing my suitcase, and she’s going to be mad again.”

“Yes, let’s get you back to the room. Here, you take him and put him under your jacket.”

Realizing they would come into the hallway and see him, and without even thinking about it, Maurice power-walked as quietly as he could away from the vending room, then stopped in front of a room door, trying to look as if he just happened to be leaving the room. He passed Ms. Sabal with her hand on the shoulder of a little girl with braids wearing a hoodie. The front of the hoodie squirmed as Ms. Sabal steered the little girl past Maurice with a bright smile, nodding at Maurice and looking directly at him.

At the vending room, he noticed a plastic cup in the corner of the room opposite the ice and vending machines. Picking it up he saw that it folded when pressed. It smelled like tuna, and he could see grease along the insides, though the kitten had done a pretty good job of licking the cup clean. An opened empty packet of tuna lay in the trash can. The kitten must have run behind the machines where the little girl couldn’t reach him. She was lucky Ms. Sabal happened to find them.

He heard the little girl chattering and two women talking to each other down the hall but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Maybe he should go help out, at least make sure they got out of the hotel without losing the kitten again.

Then he remembered the cup in his hand and realized Ms. Sabal might want it back. A folding cup was handy. She must have forgotten it in her rush to get the girl and kitten back in their room. She appeared in the doorway.  

“Oh there it is!” she said, looking at the cup. “I left my cup here when I was, uh, getting a snack from the machine.”  

Maurice handed her the cup.

“Thank you!” she said, then returned down the hallway. Maurice waited a few minutes to give her time to reach her own room. The hallway was empty and all was quiet again.

Maybe he would just let the family with the kitten make their own way out of the hotel.

Late on Wednesday, Maurice stood evening shift at the bell stand. An industry trade group was having an annual dinner down the hall in the meeting rooms. From the sound of things, it was wrapping up. There’d been music, and a speaker droning for a bit, then what sounded like announcements, and occasional applause. And then it was over and business people, many holding little plaques and small awards, streamed into the lobby towards the taxi stand or cars. Others headed towards the elevators or the bar. A group of eight men walked in a knot into the lobby, smiling and talking, and passing around a large silver bowl. It had engraving along the side, though Maurice couldn’t read it. It must have been a bigger award, maybe the big one of the evening.

Another group of men, these talking loudly and laughing and clapping each other on the back, wandered tipsily past the bell stand. They seemed very excited about whatever they had won and Maurice smiled at them in a congratulations kind of way until he saw what their award was. It looked like a large planter. In fact, it was a large planter, complete with various plants sticking out of the top. He recognized it as one of the centerpiece planters placed on each of the round tables in the banquet room. It appeared to be leaking.

Maurice tried to get the attention of the tall thin man holding the planter. Tall Thin Man was trying to hold it up in a kind of victory pose but was having trouble. He was swaying either from the effort or from drink or both. The men around him jostled Maurice, one even clapped him on the back. “Yo ho! What a prize, eh?” he said close to Maurice’s ear. Water dripped onto the man holding the planter. “Easy there,” said Maurice. “Here, let me help you.” The man’s swaying arms kept the planter out of Maurice’s reach.

“Well, well, gentlemen, what a prize!” said a woman, and Ms. Sabal walked up. The men smiled proudly at her, still congratulating each other. Ms. Sabal was pulling something soft from her tote. She spread open a large diaper and scooped it under the planter, catching the water dripping onto the floor. “Here, you want to protect your wonderful award.” In one move she cradled the planter and grabbed the hand of one of the men, placing it under the diaper covered planter. More men reached out to cradle the planter, and Tall Thin Man released his grip on it. The diaper covered planter was passed from man to man as Maurice gently herded the group to the elevators and onto a waiting car.

Ms. Sabal was still in the lobby when he returned. “That was quick thinking. Thank you so much,” he said. “But that isn’t a prize,” he said to her.

“Oh, I know. They think it is. Better not to argue, just go along with the delusion.”

On Thursday, four women, all dressed in khaki pants, matching cotton shirts, and fishing hats, were sitting at one of the courtyard café tables next to the fountain. From the bits of conversation Maurice overheard, they were planning a fishing outing, discussing fishing lures and lines and bait and tide tables. At one point, they all pulled out their wallets and took out little laminated cards. Maurice heard a chair scrape. One of the women was staring into the fountain as the others laughed or exclaimed. “Nan, can you reach it?” said one of them. A small card floated just out of reach.

“I’ll get it,” said Nan, taking off her shoes. No, he couldn’t let a guest step into the fountain. He’d have to do it himself.

Next thing he knew, Ms. Sabal walked up pulling something from her ever present and wonderful tote. She unfolded a cane, reached over the water, and deftly hooked the handle around the card in such a way she could guide it back towards Nan. Nan pulled the card from the water.

“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Nan and her sisters as Ms. Sabal folded up the cane. “What a handy thing to have!”

“We should include one of those in our fishing tackle,” said one of the women, laughing. “Join us. We must buy you a coffee or tea as a thank you.” So Ms. Sabal pulled up a chair and accepted an iced tea.

On Friday, Maurice was helping a frazzled father with a small boy at check-in. The father, a pale man in skinny jeans and a button shirt, held his son as they waited for the elevator. The boy was crying and telling his father that he forgot Mr. Froggie at home. He wanted his father to go home and get it. “We can’t, Harry. Home is a long way away.”

“But I want him,” wailed the boy, nuzzling his father’s neck. “I want Mr. Froggie here. I want to show him the hotel.”

“I know, Harry, but we’re here now. Mr. Froggie will be okay.”

“No he won’t.” Clearly Harry knew what Mr. Froggie wanted and would not be soothed.

The elevator bell dinged and as the doors slid open, there was Ms. Sabal in the elevator. She stepped back to give them all room to enter, giving Maurice a little smile. The man continued to soothe and shush Harry who continued to tell his dad that Mr. Froggie wanted to see the hotel with them and they needed to go back home.

Like Mary Poppins, Ms. Sabal pulled a very real looking stuffed rabbit from her tote. Maurice had to look at it closely to be sure it wasn’t real. And if it had been he would not have been the least surprised.

Ms. Sabal held the rabbit in her arms like a real rabbit and leaned down as if the whisper to it. This caught Harry’s attention and he quieted. Even Harry’s father looked over Harry’s shoulders at Ms. Sabal, who seemed to be ignoring everyone but the rabbit. Then she looked up at Harry and smiled.

“Robby Rabbit was just telling me that he hasn’t had the chance to see much of the hotel while we’ve been here. He’s worried we won’t see everything before its time to go back,” she said. “I told him I was doing the best I could but there was just so much to do. He asked me if maybe someone else could show him around. Would you be able to do that?”

Harry just stared at Robby Rabbit. His face looked as if he wanted very much to say yes. Harry’s father looked relieved and Maurice was pretty sure he wanted to say yes, also.  Ms. Sabal looked at Harry’s father. “Do you think that would be okay?” She asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure if Harry can take care of a rabbit.”

“I can, Daddy,” spoke up Harry. “I can take care of a rabbit and show him around.”

“That is very nice of you,” said Harry’s dad. “Ms. ….”

“Ms. Sabal. It would be very kind of you and Harry to watch over him for me while I run my errands and take care of the things I need to do.” And so she handed Robby Rabbit to Harry who gently held him in his arms as she had.

On Saturday, Ms. Sabal came down to check out. Maurice walked over mostly to say good-bye since she probably would handle her own bags herself.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said to her. “It was my first week here and you helped out with so many different situations.”

“You seem to be an old pro,” she said. “You’re an excellent Johnny-on-the-spot. It takes a lot of attention to always be on your toes with such a calm and positive demeanor, you can take that from me.”

“You’ve been so resourceful. I’ve made a list of items we need to have at the front desk and the manager is very impressed: a folding cane and a folding stool and some diapers and stuffed animals. But why did you have all those things in your bag? Are you a nurse or a teacher or a social worker?”

“Maybe you could say I’m all those things and more. I’m a caregiver. I’ll miss you and this lively hotel, Maurice. In my home there aren’t any big large lively families or celebratory business people or small children or fishing groups,” she said and her face looked sadder than he’d seen it the whole time.

“Where are you going back to, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m going back home to take care of my mother who has lived with me these past few years.  This trip was a break for me while my brother tried to do what I do and take care of her. He was worried I was burning out. It helps to get a change of scenery and some uninterrupted sleep, eat meals I didn’t cook myself, get waited on, get lost in a museum or library, get a massage, without worrying I need to hurry back or get a call that she fell.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Will you come back?”

“I’m not sure, Maurice, but maybe someday I will.”

“I’ll never forget you and your big, wonderful, orangey tote.”

Leather tote by HeungSoon from Pixabay / filtered from original
Hotel corridor by coombesy from Pixabay / filtered from original
Potted plant by Pexels from Pixabay / filtered from original
Fishing lure and reel by socialneuron from Pixabay / filtered from original
Elevator buttons by StockSnap from Pixabay / filtered from original
Hotel desk by yayayang1619 from Pixabay / filtered from original