of numbers printed neatly on its face. She picked it up and dialed the desk.
"How may I help you?"
Every phone should have a reassuring male voice to talk a woman off the roof. Janie felt the edge of something hysterical and tearful building and took a deep breath. "I need the phone number of the Hendrickson Hotel in Seattle." The tears began to form and took her breath away. "I just came to Vancouver last night for some bubble bath, and now I'm not in Seattle to present Strategic Reading to thirty-five middle-school teachers." There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and she used the pause to reach for a tissue and hold it over her eyes.
"I'll have that number for you in just a minute." The male voice was old enough to have a calming Dad effect and there was a sincerity to Canadian speech patterns that let her open her eyes again. "Here it is. (206)555-7542. Would you like me to connect you?"
"Yes!" Janie took another deep breath. Her yes had sounded too desperate. She needed to calm down if she was going to sound at all professional when she made her excuse. Excuse? She didn't know how to make an excuse. She never needed to because she was a damned responsible person. She heard the ringing, pictured the front desk at the Hendrickson. She'd simply explain that she'd driven through the night to another country for bubble bath and fallen asleep in the tub. Her eyes filled with tears again. She couldn't say that, but she wouldn't lie either. That would be —
"Hendrickson Hotel. How may I help you?"
"I..." I what? The pause was too long. The man at the Seattle hotel didn't have Canadian sincerity. He'd think she was crazy or drunk or... She couldn't imagine more ors. "I have had a, uh, situation come up, and I need someone to post a notice on a conference room." Post a notice sounded very professional. "The eight a.m. Strategic Reader presentation is cancelled. Thank you." She hung up and watched the phone as if it might ring and someone American and disapproving would be on the other end to berate her. When it didn't, she realized she was hungry. She was hungry and maybe a little relieved, but mostly she felt there was something more she needed. What it was, she couldn't name, but she'd get dressed, check-out, and it would surely come to her on the drive back.
There was a moment of discomfort with the desk clerk when she wondered if she should be embarrassed about her near-breakdown on the phone just asking for a number, but he was a gentleman, and all felt well. She watched him in the next room as he waited for the printer to chug out the bill. Good thing they didn't charge for hot water usage. She thought of the all night Luscious bath that should have been enough. While she waited, the sounds of the city bled through the lobby walls. It had a white-noise quality like a thousand fans droning on, only punctuated by the occasional horn or shout or the deep shifting of a large bus. She turned to the windows to watch the flow of human traffic and felt herself being watched. Across the street, a high-rise held all empty windows but one. She squinted and could make out a cat. It seemed to paw the window as if on the hunt. What would a pent up cat hunt? A near dead fly? A dried-up lady bug? What adventure did that hold for the poor cat?
The clerk appeared, set the bill on the counter, and smiled in the nice way only a silver-haired man could get away with, and she handed over her credit card. He compared the name with her paperwork from the night before. "Mulligan."
"Yes." She signed the credit slip.
"That's a do-over."
She looked at her signature. M. Jane Mulligan. "You want me to sign again?"
"No. Your name."
She pointed to the raised M on her card. "I go by Janie but Mara's my first name."
The nice Canadian smiled. "You're not a golfer."
Was there a professional golfer out there with her name? An M. Jane Mulligan who got her picture on the sports page swinging with style? It was kind of exciting to think someone with her name was out there living. That M. Jane Mulligan probably didn't have to drive to another country for a bath either. She probably