dark hair was carefully combed and styled, his mustache newly trimmed, and he smelled wonderful.
“Don’t hug, I’m sweaty,” Joe warned him.
“No kidding,” Chuy said. “Is this not crazy? How’d the Culhane woman get them to work so hard?”
“A spell?” Joe shrugged. “Plenty of money and lots of workers make for a quick completion.”
“But this is incredible. And how’d she get media coverage? This is an old hotel reopening in Midnight, not a casino in Vegas!”
“Let’s go listen,” Joe suggested, and they crossed the street to stand just behind the gaggle of people in front of the hotel.
Eva Culhane looked even sleeker and more powerful than she had the day the redo had begun. She was all glammed up in a formfitting gray herringbone skirt and a white sleeveless blouse. Ridiculous black high-heeled sandals made the most of her legs. Her hair was loose, rippling down her back.
“That’s a first,” Chuy said. “The hair.”
Joe nodded. “I’m trying not to worry about this. She did buy the sofa and the sideboard from us,” he said. “You can’t say she doesn’t shop locally.”
“She picked up a couple of pieces from Bobo, too.”
“Oh. What?”
“Vases, some old keys that she had framed, a couple of old weapons she had shadow-boxed. Family photographs that look interesting.”
“Stern woman with her hand on the shoulder of seated man with handlebar mustache?”
“Yeah, that kind of thing.” Chuy shrugged. “Let’s get closer.”
“MultiTier Living is experimenting with this mixed residence concept,” Eva Culhane was saying. “This is a small hotel, so it was one of the first on our list. We wanted to start small, to work out the bugs before we tried the concept on larger properties. We’re catering to theextended-stay people, but we’re including not only businesspeople who need to be close to Magic Portal for a few weeks, but the able elderly who—for one reason or another—need to have a minimum-care place to live until they can make more permanent arrangements.” She paused and smiled brilliantly. “Questions?”
A reporter from the Davy paper said, “How able do these elderly people have to be?”
“Good question! Don, they have to be able to dress themselves and manage their own toilet needs,” Eva Culhane said, so cozily that Joe thought she must have grown up with the reporter. “They’re certainly not required to do any cleaning—or furnishing—of their own rooms. Each unit has a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom. In the eldercare-designated rooms, there are features you might expect: safety bars, a panic cord, and so on. Why don’t we go on the tour, and you can see for yourselves.” Culhane swept open the door of the hotel and ushered in all the media: two newspaper reporters, an area magazine editor, and the film reporter, who’d come from . . .
“I don’t see a station designation on his microphone or on the van,” Joe said quietly. “Who would film this? What TV station would cover a hotel opening in Midnight?”
“I don’t know what to think about that.” Chuy looked up at his lover. “Hey, let’s go home. You have to eat some breakfast before the shop opens, my rugged runner.”
Joe laughed. “I’m ready for it. Maybe one egg and a granola bar.”
“You’re just a martyr,” Chuy said, as they crossed over to the shop and started up the stairs.
After Joe had eaten and showered and gotten ready for the day, he went down to find Chuy doing Olivia Charity’s fingernails. Olivia was one of Chuy’s few steady customers.
“Chuy tell you about the grand opening?” Joe said, after greetings had been exchanged.
“He did,” Olivia said. “I don’t know if we’ve ever had a grand opening in Midnight. Even as far back as Lemuel can remember.”
“I haven’t seen him in a couple of days,” Joe said, getting out his feather duster. He tried to go over all the furniture in the shop every other day, at least. The
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