The Harrington Hotel

I had to crane my neck upwards to read 'The Harrington Hotel,' in black letters. Smart but not ostentatious. The entrance was welcoming, rather than imposing, which was a good sign. I'd had enough of boastful pillars and smug doormen; peaceful and relaxing would suit me just fine. I dragged my case towards the brass-edged swing doors; fortunately, they didn't require too much strength to swing open, strength I didn't currently possess.  The decor in the lobby was classical and grand - maroon and tan - but in a homey way; velvet pillows and brocade throws draped over sofas, warm lamps on side tables. Very nice. But strangely, not another guest in sight. Not one. I actually felt relieved. This was just what I needed.

I strolled over to the reception desk, hauling my luggage behind me. Lacey, according to her name badge, smiled pleasantly - polite and professional.

"Good morning, sir. Are you checking in?"

"Yes, thanks. Travis Jackson. Just one night."

A few mouse clicks later, she looked up, "You requested a quiet room, I see."

"Yeah, hope that's ok, it's the end of a long trip."

"We've done our best, but as you can see, we're very busy at the moment." She gestured, sympathetically, at the silent, empty space.

I glanced over my shoulder, just to check, then laughed and stared at her, waiting for a sign of the shared joke. Nothing.

"You're kidding, right? How come it's so empty? It's a nice place. I'm surprised."

Lacey stopped dead and looked me straight in the eyes. 

"Can I ask how you made your booking, Mr Jackson?"

I had to think for a moment. "Uh, I received an email I think. Harrington offer. Is there a problem?"

"Not at all, sir." Another click of the mouse and a brief smile, "One moment please."

Lacey disappeared through a door marked, Hotel Staff Only and after a few seconds, a smart, middle aged man with greying hair appeared. In contrast to Lacey, he was dressed in a rather elegant, continental style, even a little costumey.  I glanced at his name badge. Anton. Not particularly American but it didn't tell me much.

"Good morning, Mr Jackson." He gave me a genuine, warm smile, almost like he knew me. "I should have been here to greet you, but had something to attend to. I do apologise." 

Okay. "Not a problem. It sounds as if you had to squeeze me in. To be honest, as long as the room has a clean bed, I'm fine. I just need to rest."

"Of course, sir. But that information was incorrect."

"You do have a room for me?" It was less of a question, more a cry of desperation. I was so tired. Did Lacey send Anton to give me the bad news?  Maybe I could just sink down on one of these sofas...

He smiled again. "We've reserved a suite for you, Mr Jackson."

"A suite? But... "

"I'll take your case." I opened my mouth to object but he was faster.

"If I may make an observation, you seem a little weary. This way, sir," and before I could respond, he'd grabbed my case and was walking towards a sign saying 'Elevators.' I was too tired to argue. I plodded after him, our silent footsteps padding on the carpet. No conversations or laughter, no banging doors, no rustle of newspapers. So weird. As we waited for the elevator, I looked around at the paintings of distinguished men on the wall behind me. Most of them seemed to be called Harrington. Maybe it was the tiredness, but when I looked closer, some of them bore a marked resemblance to Anton. Underneath each one, was a phrase in Latin: "Quod opus est apparebit". I knew what that meant: "What is needed will appear." I just didn't know what it was doing here. It was engraved on a brass plaque in my father's study and repeated whenever one of us was worrying over something. Must be more common than I thought.

The elevator bell drew my attention. Anton gestured me inside, pressed Suite H and up we went - top floor. 

"Are you sure this is right?" It sounded expensive. 

"Quite sure, Mr Jackson. I dealt with your booking myself." 

The elevator opened and I was hit with a familiar scent... a sudden tension in the chest, a distant memory...

I faced a large lobby area with two doors. The one on the left said The Bellamy Suite.  I caught my breath. The one on the right, The Harrington Suite.  Harrington... it was coming back to me now. My great-grandmother... pretty sure she was a Harrington. That's who Anton reminded me of, my grandfather! He'd died when I was a kid, but I'd seen him in family photos, something about his features...

I turned to him, "My grandfather..."

He smiled innocently, "Yes, sir."

Anton removed a velvet envelope from his pocket, then withdrew a modern key card and an ornate, brass key. At this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd disappeared in a puff of smoke. The exhaustion must be getting to me. Behind the hotel door were carved double doors with a brass lock. Inserting the key, he turned it and pushed the doors open to reveal an enormous room, in 19th century style - blue and gold. One the right, a bookcase, desk and chair. Left, a comfortable lounge area. Beyond that, another door - the bedroom and bathroom.  I turned to Anton, more than a little concerned.

"I'm sorry... this isn't what..."

He looked at me, "What you expected?" Then turning away with a patient look, "It never is, sir." He rolled my case through to the bedroom. Tall windows, king size bed and window drapes in the same style as before, and antique furniture, freshly polished. 

"There's a menu in the sitting area should you wish to order food. Rest well, sir." Placing the keys on the dressing table, he left. I had so many questions but was too tired to think. I kicked off my shoes, slung my jacket over the chair, collapsed on to the bed and waited for sweet oblivion... 

I awoke to complete silence, and a different light. It was mid-afternoon and my stomach was growling. Time to order food. I looked in the mirror, ran my fingers through my hair and went to find that menu. Well, it looked normal enough. I couldn't make any sense of what had happened earlier, but decided to put it down to jet lag. I placed my order by phone, had a quick shower and had just finished dressing when my food arrived. It was Anton again. 

"They keep you busy here, Anton, that's for sure."

"Well, it is a quiet time of year," he replied, not looking at me.

"Yeah, I'm not sure Lacey would agree." We exchanged glances, then he left me to eat. The food was good. I made myself look presentable and decided to go down and explore. After retrieving the keys, I locked all the doors and waited for the elevator. There was music coming from the other suite - Bellamy - I recognised it from my childhood.  And that sweet scent... I breathed deep.... so familiar.  The doors opened with a quiet swish and I pressed for Reception again - it was as empty, as before.  Anton, of course, was behind the desk. He nodded and smiled. 

What if this was some kind of alternate reality? Could I sit anywhere? Would I be sitting in someone else's space? How did all this work? There were a couple of newspapers on a coffee table so I sat down to take a look. The sofa felt ok, no elbows. I read a few headlines and looked at the dates; it all looked normal enough.  

"Hey Anton, is there any chance of a drink? Do you have a bar here?"

"Certainly, sir. Walk through the doors to your left and the lounge bar is on your right. I'll be with you in a moment."

"Seriously? You're serving the drinks?" He just gave his little smile.

The lounge bar was in a similar historical style but in dark green and brass. I couldn't believe this place wasn't crammed. Maybe it was - I didn't know what was going on any more. Anton came in to take my order.

"A cold beer, please. And a single malt - Courage and Conviction, if you have it."

While Anton was busy with the drinks, I asked about the music.

"Ah, you're referring to one of Miss Bellamy's favourites, and of Mr Harrington's, I believe."

"They were friends?"

"Oh yes, sir, great friends for many years, childhood neighbours, as a matter of fact. It is something of a sad story. They were unable to marry. Miss Bellamy's father had higher aspirations for his daughter, and considered Mr Harrington... well... not the suitable choice. Of course, he may have lived to regret that decision, as Mr Harrington went on to become an extremely successful hotelier."

"Wow, that's interesting. But then, I wouldn't be here... would I."

"Indeed, sir." He placed my drinks on the bar. "Will that be all?"

I nodded. "Thanks, Anton." and carried them over to a table by the window. They were stained glass but I could still make out the hectic foot traffic on the sidewalk. No sounds though, no engines, voices, footsteps. And that music, coming through the speakers again. Yeah, this was really strange. But after the month I'd had - flying to and across six different countries and four states, lecturing and consulting, some alone time was exactly what I needed. This was only meant to be a quick stopover and a bed for the night, but I couldn't have planned the experience any better.  Except for, maybe... but Anton couldn't fix everything.

Drinks finished, I strolled back to Reception. There were now a couple of glossy picture books on one of the tables. One was the story of The Harrington Hotels. There were originally five, but now just this one. The calm, peaceful atmosphere they offered was no competition for the hustle culture of later decades.  There were pictures of the hotels and their staff - dressed pretty much like Anton - and a photo of Harrington's childhood friend, Alicia Bellamy. Wow, what a coincidence.  She was lovely; slim with pretty eyes and dark, curled hair. The various Harringtons were in there, with the same eyes and hairline, quite distinctive. I noticed that all their names were variations of either Charles or Anthony. Carl, Carla, Charlotte, Lottie. Or Tony. And Anton, of course.  Nothing surprised me now. 

The second book was more of an autobiography of the original Harrington. He'd emigrated from Hungary with his parents in 1848, when they changed his name from Károly Antal Harangi to Charles Anthony Harrington.  Their neighbours, the Bellamys, were a wealthy family and had no intention of marrying off their daughter to a Hungarian immigrant, so that was the end of that. Alicia was matched with a man called George Theodore, an Investment Banker.  They had five kids, but in the three pictures of Alicia, she never had the same warmth in her eyes after she married. But hey, no relationship is perfect. 

I was tempted to go outside for a walk but, call me unhinged, I was worried about what I might find when I came back in.  So, I did the obvious thing - I asked Anton. "I was thinking about getting some fresh air... "

"A splendid idea, sir," and with a meaningful look, "May I suggest the veranda? Go up to the first floor, it's at the top of the stairs. Would some refreshment be welcome?"

"Very welcome. Thanks, Anton." Just like the man said, at the top of the stairs, there it was. And, to my complete lack of surprise, totally empty.  A warm, gentle breeze ruffled my hair as I seated myself and listened. Nothing. I could see the tops of buildings, but the whole area was surrounded by tall railings, covered in foliage. Anton appeared with another cold beer and some tiny sandwiches. 

"I trust you're having a relaxing time, sir?"

"I definitely am, Anton; I couldn't have invented this place any better.  As my father used to say, "What is needed will appear." 

Anton tilted his head to one side. "Indeed, sir. My father used to say the very same thing. Only in Latin."

I took a sip of my drink. "Anton, that doesn't surprise me at all."

"Incidentally, sir, can I book you a table for dinner?"

I gave him a questioning look. "You think that's strictly necessary?"

He pondered for a moment, "Well, one never knows; it is rather a busy season, sir."

I couldn't restrain a short laugh, "Of course it is. What time do you suggest?"

"Does seven o'clock suit you, sir?"

"Absolutely. Seven o'clock it is."

"The restaurant is situated on the second floor, to your left."  I was quite certain I would see him at dinner.

I ate my delicious tiny sandwiches, drank my beer and smiled to myself. This would make some story. But who would I tell? Not close to my brother, and he'd think this was one of my crazy quantum theories.  A few acquaintances, all with kids, unlike me. My job kept me either in the lab or hopping around the globe - not much time for a social life. And since Dana... well that was three years ago now. People said I should move on. But grief has its own timescale. 

I was feeling quite tired again, so returned to my room for a lie down. I slept for about an hour then had a shave and put on some smarter clothes. And some rather expensive cologne - just a splash - from Paris duty-free. As Anton said, you just never know.  The Bellamy Suite was quiet now - no music this time, and the sweet scent was barely evident.  I found the restaurant okay and, as expected, Anton met me at the door. 

To my absolute astonishment, there was someone else seated at a table. A slim, attractive woman, with dark wavy hair. I nearly gave myself whiplash as I turned to Anton, with a look of consternation. What now?

He smiled reassuringly. "Our other guest, sir. Please don't be alarmed." I followed him, my fingers twitching a little nervously at this unexpected development, but Anton hadn't steered me wrong so far. He seated me a few tables away from her, then took both our orders. I sneaked a couple of glances. She must have been doing the same, as we coincided and smiled shyly at each other. It seemed foolish to both continue sitting in silence, so I did the obviously sensible thing and walked slowly across to her table. I held out my hand.

"Hi, I'm Travis." I almost gasped as she looked up at me with the prettiest, turquoise blue eyes. Those eyes...

"Hello," she took my hand and smiled. "Alice." That name...

"I hope you don't mind, but it seemed strange not to introduce myself... us being the only two in here."

"Strange? I'm getting used to that now!" She had an English accent. No ring.

We both laughed, and I replied "Yeah, that's for sure!"

"Please do sit," she gestured at the chair opposite. "I'm just about ready for some company."

"Yeah, same here. I was really glad of the peace and quiet, but I'm relieved to see another person. Apart from Anton."

She laughed again, "Yes, the multi-talented Anton. He's like a genie, isn't he!"

"Yep - you turn around and there he is." 

She had a lovely smile and was looking at me with warm eyes. Warm, turquoise eyes.

"I'm at the end of a long lecture tour. This stay was exactly what I needed."

"Well," she replied, "Our family had a saying, 'What is needed will appear.' It certainly worked out this time. I've just finished my PhD and I was ready to drop!"

"That saying..."

"Oh, it was from our neighbour when I was a girl. Our families were close but then mine moved to the UK. I just returned a few weeks ago."

"Your surname... it's not... Bellamy?" Her eleven-year old's perfume... vanilla and honeysuckle.

"Well... yes. Do I know you from somewhere?" 

"Uh, from Aspen Avenue, Michigan?"

"Travis... Jackson? She stared at me, her eyes wide.

"The very same. I locked myself in my room for days after you left." 

"Travis! I cried and cried. How I missed you."

"You stopped writing."

"It was too painful. I had to move on."

Moving on. There it was again.

"Your PhD... what subject?"

"Oh, a bit nerdy. It's about the Philosophy of space and time."

I swallowed hard. "I lecture in Quantum Physics and String Theory." We stared at each other before she spoke,

"Anton did it again, didn't he."

"Or maybe it's The Harrington Hotel. My great grandmother was a Harrington, you know."

"No!"

"But yes." 

She leaned forward, "Did you read those books..."

"Alicia and Charles..."

"So sad."

"Were you worried about sitting on someone in the lounge?"

"A bit, but I decided to take a risk."

We were still laughing as Anton served our food.

"So," I looked up with a cheeky smile, "Harrington and Bellamy.  Maybe they get together in the end."

"Do they?" She grinned back, then Anton appeared. 

"What do you think, Anton? Quod opus est apparebit?"

"I fear my shift is nearly over, sir. But I wish you both the very best fortune from myself and The Harrington."

"Will things be different tomorrow, Anton?"

"Things often do seem so, in the morning, sir. And now, I must bid you goodnight."

"Thank you, Anton, for everything. I'll miss you."

He started to walk away, then turned back.

"Well, sir, you just never know."