"It's terrible out there. I'd be surprised if the bridge isn't flooded by morning." Peter Burrows was a stout man cursed with a balding head and a pregnant wife suffering from, by the looks of her belly about to pop open and swollen ankles, her last trimester. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, or he could be younger but life got the better of him.
"Power hasn't gone out yet but I don't wanna jinx it." I said as I grabbed the driver's license he already had out.
Abby Soupley waited for me, sat next to the probing man on the loveseat.
The pregnant woman stood quietly and watched as I entered the information from Peter's driver's license. She tapped her foot repeatedly, her arms crossed on her chest. She was a strong contender on the top reasons Peter Burrows was balding.
"Most of Main Street is already out," said Peter Burrows before turning to the woman. "We're almost there, sweetheart. Why don't you sit there and wait for me?" He nodded over to the empty sofa across from Abby and the other guest.
The woman's tapping was louder now. She grunted then said, "No Peter, I want to go to our room. I wouldn't have booked a hotel if I'm gonna rest on a couch."
In the middle of me finishing up the check in, the screen conveniently froze.
"She's working on it, sweetheart. It won't be too long."
"Ahuh, that's what you said back in the van." She snapped and proceeded towards the empty couch across Abby and the other guest.
Peter turned to me, whispered, "Sorry about that."
"Totally understandable. I'm sure she's uncomfortable." I said.
Peter merely let out a deep sigh, and something about it made me think it wasn't just the pregnancy that was causing the woman's annoyance.
Then I asked, "What's her name so I can add it to the reservation?"
"Lacy without the e. Do you need her ID too?"
And risk an exhausted pregnant woman blowing up on me? No thanks. "No, it's all good. Here are your keys on the fourth floor. Breakfast tomorrow will be from seven to ten but should you need anything before then, I'll be down here."
"Thanks, um?"
"Meredith."
"Thanks Meredith."
YOU ARE READING
Night Auditor
Horror"Between 1936 and 2018, Lagro, a small Central Florida town 96 miles south of Orlando, would suffer up to 138 yearly casualties directly related to the deadly hurricanes that would sweep through half of the state. On November 30th, 2019, the offici...
