Romeo Blue Read Online Free PDF Page B

steps up to the grand mezzanine, with plush rugs and soft-looking sofas and bright-colored Spanish tiles on the walls near the wooden front desk. “What a swanky place,” said Derek, rolling his eyes across the room.
    “Your father must be dreadfully rich,” I said. I was hoping Derek would reach for my hand again, but he didn’t. Instead, he crossed the polished marble floor to the desk. There were hundreds of wooden cubbyholes for keys and messages and letters for the guests.
    “Hello,” said Derek to the hotel manager. “We’re here to see one of your guests, my father, Edmund Blakely. Is he in?” Derek seemed to exaggerate the word father .
    “I’m sorry to say he’s not,” said the manager. “Mr. Blakely only stayed one night with us last week and left. He does pick up his messages occasionally. Perhaps you’d like to leave him one.”
    Derek backed up, shaking his head, and then he trailed away. I followed him.
    We walked to the edge of the dining room and peeked in. On all the walls there were Egyptian murals, as if the dining room were in an Egyptian tomb. It was dimly lit and full of tables and every one of them was taken. There seemed to be naval officers and sailors and welders and ironworkers from the shipyard having lunch. We were told the government put up shipyard workers here. They said all the rooms in Portland were occupied becauseshipyard workers from across the country were brought here to build the new Liberty ships for the war. I was feeling proud and pleased to see them all. But then, in the far corner, I spotted someone.
    “Derek,” I said. “Do you see that fellow who has turned away from us now? Isn’t that Mr. Fitzwilliam having lunch over there?”
    “What?” said Derek. “Yes, it does look like Fitzwilliam.”
    There was also a fellow who appeared to be lunching with Mr. Fitzwilliam, or rather just leaving him, putting his share of the bill on the table. Quarters and nickels spilled out and rolled onto the floor. “I’d like to get a photo of the parade,” he called out to Mr. Fitzwilliam as he crossed the room and walked past us.
    He took some photographs of the lobby. He dropped some newspapers on the tiled floor. He leaned over and picked them up, then pushed out the main doors. We went towards the glass double doors too. There was a small parade going down the street outside. There were several marching bands and soldiers carrying banners that read, SUPPORT YOUR COUNTRY AND YOUR SOLDIERS. BUY WAR BONDS NOW . It was too bad about the rain. It had started again. Umbrellas lined the street.
    We were just going to go out the doors ourselves when we realized that the man had also dropped an envelope, a letter not yet mailed. It was lying there in the corner on the tiled floor near the exit.

    Derek picked up the envelope. It was stamped and addressed to Louise Mack in Cape Elizabeth. “What should we do with this?” he said, handing me the envelope.
    “I don’t know,” I said. Derek took my wrist then and sort of pulled me out through the doors on to the sidewalk. Sailors playing trumpets were pounding by. We could hear flutes scaling high notes and people cheering and clapping. We looked for the man who had dropped the envelope but it was quite crowded in spite of the rain and we didn’t see him.
    We wove through flocks of people and umbrellas and then, because it was getting late, we headed back towards Monument Square to meet Mr. Henley. We had decided now to mail the letter for the man. But before we did, Derek became a bit curious and worked the seal open without damaging anything. Then of course we decided not to bother to mail it because the paper inside was completely blank.
    “She mails things to the house, doesn’t she, your mother? I hear she’s as lovely as a butterfly,” Mr. Fitzwilliam had said. “Just as pretty and delicate as a swallowtail.”

The ride home in the dark would have been cozy but there was something looming in the stormy air. Bob