Ross sighed as he exited his car, made his way through the eternally grey atmosphere that was Royston Vasey, and entered the City hall.
Contrary to the other government buildings in the town, the city hall was quite rustic on the interior, with high ceilings, marble floors, and long halls lined with columns that made even the minutest noise a thunderous echo. Being a relatively quiet man himself, Ross absolutely loathed walking around in the building. Each step he took produced a rather annoying "clack" that alerted (what he felt) the entire building to his presence. He liked moving around unnoticed, he enjoyed melding into the background, and he reveled in his ability to pass under the "line of vision" thus, allowing him to avoid any unnecessary contact with the growing amount of insane locals.
This was the exact line of thought that Ross used to pass the endless noisy walk that he was forced to endure regularly. That, and of course, Cathy, the incredibly rude head secretary. When she wasn't terrorizing the unfortunates in her newly acquired Restart Class, she was busy making every visit to the City Hall a nightmare to endure. Not an appointment at the Government office went by that didn't begin with his forced contact with her. There was something about her that just made his blood boil. It might have been that horrid perfume she always dosed herself in. It might also be that disgusting cat smell that she failed miserably at covering up with gallons cheap perfume. It could be the three inches of make up that caked her face. These loathsome traits might have been forgivable had it only been skin deep, but no. Cathy Carter-Smith was unpleasant to the core. There could not be a more disagreeable woman on the face of the earth. Any request was met with an evil, hate-filled glare, and every word she spoke stung like a hot needle in the ear.
As he started to reach the end of the long front hall, Ross's thoughts on the echo's and growing dread at the inevitable encounter with Cathy were cut off by a conversation that was being held at his destination. Though the voices were all blending together in that distorted fashion brought on by reverberating walls, He could tell that an argument was in progress.
As he drew closer, Ross could make out three figures; the ever dreadful Cathy perched at her high desk like a vulture, Tomas Morston the mayor's aide, and what looked to be a woman with her back turned to him. As he approached the desk, Cathy gave an audible sigh as she reluctantly turned from the apparently interesting conversation in front of her, to give Ross the death glare.
"Yes Mister Gaines?" She hissed with obvious hate towards him or anyone who took her away from eavesdropping. "What can I do for you today?"
" I just need to drop off the Campbell-Jones file….." he was instantly distracted by the increasing volume of the discourse a few feet away from him.
"Look, I don't care who you work for, it's just not possible!" said Morston in an agitated tone. " The Windermere is closed until further notice! It doesn't matter how long ago the reservation had been made, a tragedy just occurred there for Godsake!"
The young woman bent her head forward and rubbed her eyes in exasperation. This little back and forth had obviously been going on for a while now and, more than likely, in circles.
"Please understand, I empathize, I really do, but try to see this from my point of view. I have just spent the longest 48 hours of my life on a crowded plane, a sketchy train, and in a cab with really sweet, but talkative driver. I am exhausted. I smell like coach seats. All I want to do is take a bath and sleep. Now imagine, please try, how I am expected to feel when I finally make it to your "little town" and find out that there is NO place for me to stay. A letter of introduction was sent to your mayor months ago by my publisher to get permission to come here and do my job, permission was granted, and a hotel reservation was made. Why after coming all this way was I not informed? No phone call? Your office has my number. I understand that I am not in any way a top priority here, especially since there has been a dreadful accident, but this has been set in stone for weeks now and I refuse to believe that this could not have been handled better."
Ross was a little taken aback by the speech he had just witnessed and could instantly see why Cathy had been so enthralled. This visitor was American. Even at the best of times, Royston Vasey saw very little international travelers. On top of that, she must be someone of at least some importance if a letter of introduction was made and permission needed to be acquired, but for what?
Again his train of thought was interrupted by the growing animosity of the argument.
"I'm sorry but there is no other place to stay. As I've stated before, The Windermere is closed until further notice!" Each of Tomas' words had an emphasis to them as he was obviously trying not to start yelling.
" And there is no other inn or hotel? Not one?" she asked sounding more tired and despairing than angry at this point. It was becoming quite clear that she was on her last leg. "What I am I supposed to do? Camp out at the damn train station?"
Before he even realized what he was doing, Ross made his way over to the fighting pair stood adjacent to them "If I may…"
They both stopped and turned to look at him. He now had a clear view of the American's face as she regarded him with a look on mild curiosity and slight relief at small break she was getting in this ongoing bout.
"I don't mind hosting our guest for a while…" they both had varying looks of shock on their faces. "…at least until better accommodations can be made."
It took the visitor a few seconds to register what this savior had said before she smiled and sighed.
"Why Ross whatever are you doing here?" asked Tomas, completely oblivious as usual.
The more astute visitor rolled her eyes at the useless aide and turned again to Ross.
" Thank you for the offer, but no matter what you may have heard about American girls, I can assure you that most of us do not go staying at the homes of complete strangers…." She smiled and held out her hand.
It took Ross a second, but he did get the hint.
"Oh! I am sorry, my name is Ross Gaines. I work for the city." He took her hand and received a surprisingly strong handshake from the visitor. It was odd though, women rarely initiated an introduction, which was typically left to the man, it was not anything sexist, just common courtesy. However, he quickly dismissed it. She was American after all.
"I'm Sarah Clarke, current events writer for the Chicago Tribune and occasional author."
Ross returned the smile, and then turned to Tomas.
"Would that be acceptable?"
"If our persistent friend here doesn't mind…." He turned to Sarah, "Ross is a fine, upstanding citizen and I would be more than comfortable with a foreign representative staying with him."
All what he said about Ross was true, but he could tell from Tomas' tone that, at this point, he would have said anything to get this insistent American writer out of his thinning hair.
"Well with that sterling recommendation, " Sarah said with a smirk, "I see no reason as to why I can't stay with you, Mr. Gaines. Are you sure that it won't be much trouble? I do need to stay for about a month."
This, Ross had not considered, hell, he did not even know what possessed him to step forward and offer his home in the first place, and for a month? He suddenly realized that he was taking too long to respond and blurted,
"No, it won't be any trouble, besides the Windermere can't stay closed forever."
He was going to add more, but that beastly Cathy pulled him back to reality.
"Mister Gaines, did you or did you not have business here today?"
"It's nothing that cannot wait Cathy." Ross replied through clenched teeth.
"Well then, if you don't mind, some of us are trying to work!" She practically split the foundation on her face in two as she made her quite hypocritical remark.
"I should be getting back to my day job as well." Tomas added then turned to Sarah, "If you won't be needing anything else, I'll be off."
It was a good thing that Sarah did not, in fact, need anything else, as the aide quickly scuffled away before she could reply.
With the departure of Tomas and Cathy on her lunch break (the job she needed to return to), Ross failed to notice that the American was observing him. It wasn't until she broke the silence that he turned back to face her.
"Thanks a heap. You have no idea how grateful I am. And you are sure you have plenty of space? Your wife won't mind?"
"No, you won't be any trouble. I have the room, and my wife is out of town, not that she would mind anyway."
"What was that?" Ross thought to himself. Why was he doing this? He didn't have enough room. Although he made plenty of money, he lived in a one bedroom flat. And his wife? What wife? He wasn't married. Why did he feel the need to lie to her? Of course he couldn't fess up now, she needed a place to stay and the last thing he needed to do was to give this visiting writer any reason to distrust the man she would be staying with for an extended period of time.
"Well if you promise that I won't be a burden," she said with a look of exhausted thankfulness, " you can just give me your address now and I can take a cab to your home whenever it is most convenient for you. I'm sure you have a job you need to return to and I'm sure you don't want some stranger poking around your house unattended."
"I thought we were no longer strangers?" Ross said at an ill attempt at humor. To which he received an understanding nod in return. "And I could take you there now if you like, I'm on my lunch break and I'm sure you are eager to use some amenities."
Sarah laughed, "I would like that very much. I know I smell awful, but I'm sure I look worse."
Unsure how to respond, Ross dismissed the comment with a smile, and moved to grab one of the bags at her feet.
As they left the building, Ross took a second to notice how quiet the hall seemed as he and Sarah engaged in small talk. He also realized that he had Pauline's file still tucked under his arm.