Somewhere in Time

The Hall of History

After unpacking his overnight bag and taking a short nap , Richard had nothing to do. It felt odd to have no obligations and no one staring over his shoulder waiting impatiently for his current project to be done.

A rumble in his stomach made him aware that it was close to dinner time and shouldn't he go downstairs and find that famous restaurant everyone's been raving about?

He took the old staircase down to the main floor and walk through the lobby.
The sounds of clinking tea cups and silverware along with the scent of brewing coffee and roast beef Bourguignon led him to the entrance of the dining hall.

Waiters were busily preparing tables with white linen table cloths and folded napkins .
Beautiful plates with the hotel crest were also placed perfectly in line with the crystal water goblets and butter dishes.
The elegant room was expansive. It could easily accommodate two hundred guests comfortably. Back in the distant past it was used for a ballroom. If only walls could talk.

To Richard's chagrin , there was no one in there except the hotel dining room staff.
As he stood there in confusion a Maitre 'd came up to him , "Yes sir , may I help you?"

" Ah, yeah, when do you open?"
Please be soon he thought hopefully.

" In forty five minutes sir." He said . " I do apologize for any inconvenience for the wait."

Richard turned away feeling hungry and not sure what to do with himself. He walked passed honeymooners and elderly couples holding hands.
A feeling of loneliness crept into his mind and after acknowledging it , pushed it down where all his dashed hopes and yearnings were kept, placed deep down in his subconscious.

He glanced in a shop window and was mildly shocked to see what passed as a pretty dress on a equally appalling mannequin.
He scowled , why would a sensible woman choose to wear that?

He thought a walk down to the beach would be nice, but it would take too long. Maybe after dinner and watch the sun set. Alone.

He left out an audible sigh and sat down on a over stuffed couch. On a side table there were expired magazines and tourist brochures. He picked up a old Harpers Bazaar magazine and scanned the articles, not really caring if stiletto heels were sexy or if his foundation wear was bunching up his ass.

He tossed the magazine back on the table and began his aimless wanderings again.

Then he saw something that caught his interest. Over a door was a sign that read: Hall of History.

Okay, he thought , I could waste a few more minutes in here.

His stomach continued to rumble its complaints but all he could he do but wait.
He smiled at the old fashioned pen and ink well next to a guest book from eighteen ninety five. The signatures  intricate and hard to read.
There were newspaper articles of famous people who visited the hotel in frames on the walls.
Daguerreotype photographs of the original hotel and surrounding grounds from eighteen eighty seven , the year the hotel was built also could be viewed through a glass case.
In another case were ladies lace gloves and perfume bottles. Some still with liquid in them. The liquid had turned to brownish amber with the passage of time. There were an odd assortment of coins, hair brushes and hat pins .
In one corner there stood a Pianoforte and a colorfully painted victrola, with the sheet music of Dreams of long ago by Enrico Caruso.

Richard was bending over a glass case examining a playbill from nineteen fifteen when he felt a cold shiver run up and down his spine.
His skin prickled and his fingertips went cold as he felt as if someone was standing just behind him whispering in his ear.

Why was his heart pounding in his chest? Why was the sound blood rushing into his ears?

He slowly turned around and saw a portrait of a young woman in an ornately gilded oval frame.

He was being pulled towards it, like there was an invisible lasso tugging him in its direction.

Why had he not noticed it when he first walked in?

He walked towards the far wall. The portrait was illuminated by track lighting , and Richard was momentarily blinded by the harsh light.
He felt a sudden loss of that wondrous feeling when his eyes involuntarily closed , but he quickly crossed over out of the light and finally got a good look at the beautiful woman.

The photograph was as clear as if it had been taken yesterday.
She was wearing a beaded white dress that gently flowed over her delicate shoulders.
Her hair was piled on top of her head in an Edwardian pompadour.

But it was her smile that caught and held his attention. It was soft and meaningful.

The longer he stared at her face the more intrigued he became. He had long ago forgotten his physical hunger.
Now it was replaced with a new hunger, a insatiable craving.
Who was she? He glanced to where a name plate should have been, but found none.

He had to find out her name, it was urgent that he know her name immediately.

Arthur would know! He was the Hall of History personified!

Taking one last look at the portrait , Richard dashed out in search of his new friend.
After asking the desk clerk were to find Arthur , he found him outside, trimming rose bushes in front of the main entrance.

          He rushed over to him and blurted, "Arthur, hey, I need to ask you a question.  There's a portrait  in the hall of history, of a young woman, but there's no name plate .  Do you know who she is?"

       The words came out in a rush , faster than he intended and he was a bit embarrassed by his  outburst.

         Arthur just smiled indulgently at the young man, who was obviously breathing hard and in great hurry.

            "Well now, let me think." 
   Richard  became alarmed when he thought that the older mans memory would  fail him.

      "Oh yes, that's Elise McKenna. She was a famous actress in her day. She started in a play in the hotel theater."

           Arthur rocked back and forth on his heels and grinned, pleased  with himself for remembering someone from his childhood.

    Richard said her name under his breath , the sound of her name  sent the same tingling feeling over his skin  again.

       " I'm sorry , did you say there is a theater ?" 

     "Yes , down by the lake."  Arthur pointed through the trees in the direction of the lake.

             "Really?  When was this play done?"   Richard held his breath after asking his last question.

   "Oh, about nineteen twelve."   Arthur  was pleased with himself for remembering the date.

         "Nineteen twelve?"    He felt his heart do a flip  flop and then sunk . That was   Seventy years ago.

        Suddenly the roses didn't smell quite so nice and  the seagulls stoped  their song.  But that wasn't going to stop Richard  from finding out everything he could about her.