Power Play

“Um. You can’t.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The girl stepped inside and shut the door. Then she peeled the lid off the bin. Only now did Emily see that across the lid in faded black Sharpie ink were the words: Lost and Found. Women’s.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m real sorry. But we have to launder everything, and treat your cases, too.” She stuck a fake bright smile on her face. “I’m sure there’s something in the lost and found bin that will fit you.”

“But, I don’t have bedbugs. I’m sure my room is fine.”

“I’m only doing what the manager told me to, ma’am. We’re evacuating and treating this entire wing. You want I should call him?”

“No. No.” She understood that they had to contain the infestation, and fast. The last thing she wanted was to be the unwitting bearer of bedbugs to her cousin’s wedding.

She looked inside.

The clothes inside that plastic tub were the kind that if you forgot them at a hotel you wouldn’t care enough to go back and retrieve them. Faded track pants, ancient sweatshirts, a bright pink faux silk blouse from the seventies, old jeans, some workout wear, a floral housecoat. A handful of bathing suits.

Emily couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. She saw herself showing up to today’s prewedding event, which was lunch and then some kind of craft project that involved making paper roses for the wedding. No doubt orange ones. When she imagined herself showing up in crumpled lost and found clothing, when her mother was always boasting about how successful she was, she laughed until she snorted.

The chambermaid stared at her as though she’d lost her mind, which only made her laugh harder. Finally, she wiped her eyes and thought: emergency shopping trip. “I’m going to need my purse.”

“Just your wallet. Leave everything else in the room. I’m really sorry, but we have to contain this.”

Stuff happened, Emily reminded herself. Then had a terrible thought.

“My bridesmaid gown. It’s in a plastic bag, it’ll be okay, won’t it?”

The girl looked doubtfully at the dress, clearly visible in its see-through bag and then back at Emily, as though wondering why anyone would want to save that gown. If it weren’t for the family thing, Em would agree with her.

“I know. It’s butt ugly, but if I don’t wear that dress down the aisle on Saturday for my cousin’s wedding, I might as well cross my name out of the family bible. You know what I mean?”

Fervent nodding. “I’ll ask the manager. He’ll know what to do.”

“Is the Elk Mall still the only shopping center in town? Oh, and I’ll need a list of other hotels.”

She’d last been in town a few months ago for a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Her mom had moved away from Elk Crossing before Emily was even born, but she’d dragged the family back so many times over the years that Emily knew the town pretty well.

While she was speaking, the young girl dug down into the bin and handed her a pair of black polyester satin pants, the pink polyester silk shirt and a fluorescent-green windbreaker with a tear in the pocket.

Emily looked at the crumpled garments hanging from her hand. “Can I at least wear my underwear?”

“No. Everything gets washed.” The girl sent her another sunny smile. “But these are all clean. We always wash them before they go in the lost and found.”

“That’s good to know.” Especially since she’d be going commando.

“Yep, Elk Mall’s still the place. It has a Wal-Mart now,” she added with pride. “And we’re finding you another room. We should have you settled in a couple hours. Your clothes need to be separated into washable and dry-clean-only piles.”

“I don’t want another room in this hotel,” Emily said in the pleasant but firm tone she used on her massage therapy clients who didn’t do their exercises. “I want a list of other local hotels.”

“Won’t do you any good. They’re all full.”

“Every hotel room in Elk Crossing is full?” This town was so insignificant it only appeared on regional maps, but she didn’t think it was that small. The wedding was adding a hundred people, tops, and most of them were billeted. “I don’t mind driving.”

The chambermaid shook her head. “Not a hotel room, motel room or bed-and-breakfast is left. Even the campgrounds are full. There’s nothing for fifty miles. It’s the Over-Thirties Hockey Tourney this week. They’ve booked everything.”

Emily pushed a wet curl back off her forehead. “Tell me you have some good news.”

“Sure. Your room’s comped. And we’re serving free coffee and breakfast in the restaurant.”

She sighed. As good news went, she hadn’t exactly won the lottery. “What time does Wal-Mart open?”

2

ONLY THE THOUGHT OF BEDBUGS got Emily out of her room once she’d forced herself to dress in the lost and found clothes. The polyester silk pants were too short, ending about three inches from her ankles, but making up in width what they lacked in length, so she’d had to use a safety pin to hold the waistband in place.

By contrast, the shirt was too small, and she was braless. Which was the only reason she finally slipped her arms into the bright green windbreaker.

Unable to resist, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror and tried to see the humor in the situation, but at the moment, she didn’t feel like laughing. She looked like a scarecrow that had been left out one winter too many. Loads of her family lived here in Elk Crossing and she had friends here. She had her pride, and her mother’s pride in her to think of. They simply could not see her like this.

The only plan she had was to hit Wal-Mart the second it opened, grab something and scoot into the change room. If she could do that, her vanity would be partly spared.

She opened her door and slipped into the hallway, casting one last look at her clothes, neatly separated into wash and dry-clean piles. Naturally, she’d brought her best clothes with her for the interminable wedding breakfasts, lunches, rehearsal dinners, stagette night and whatever other events her inventive relatives could come up with. When someone in her family got married, they liked to drag the thing out at least a week.

She made her way to the restaurant and found about a dozen refugees from her part of the hotel standing around drinking coffee, looking like a convention of hobos. As she entered, the hairy guy who’d diagnosed the bedbug problem glanced up and took in her outfit with interest. Something about his regard made her conscious of her underwearless state, which made her snappish.

Especially as he’d somehow snagged an oversize navy sweater and jeans. Apart from the fact that his jeans didn’t go much closer to his ankles than her satin pants, he could pass for normally dressed. She poured herself coffee from an urn and turned to him. “How did you score clothes that actually fit?”

He snorted and lifted the huge sweater. Apart from noticing the same gorgeous abs she’d sighted earlier, she saw a widely gaping fly and, since he was also going commando, she got the impression that his chest wasn’t the only place he was impressively hairy.

“I do up this zipper, I’ll be singing soprano for the rest of my life,” he informed her, and then dropped the sweater back in place. “Did you get bitten?”

“No. You?”

He shook his head. “Far as I can tell, it’s only the two women with bites.”

“Are they going to be okay?”

He nodded. “They took both of them to the clinic to be looked at, one of them had some kind of reaction, but they should be fine.”

She shuddered.

A waitress came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of Danish and fruit.

As she helped herself to a Danish, Emily asked the waitress, “What time does the Wal-Mart open?”

“Seven.”