They rode in silence as Prett drove through, then out of, the nearby town. Jane gripped the box, crumpling it. A few miles down the sparsely traveled highway, he commented, "Yer hetter dun work."

"No." The silence enveloped them again. Jane stared out her window at the red sun peeking over the horizon. When Prett turned, putting the sunrise behind them, Jane focused on the straight, flat road stretching before them. Another few miles and a handful of houses came into view. A small green sign announced the community's name: Prairie Creek Population 287.

Prett turned onto the main street and Jane's grip on the box eased. But her shoulders slumped when he parked in front of a large, dilapidated, two-story building. Patches of white paint clung desperately to the clapboard, and a roof hunched sadly over the small front porch. This hasn't been a hotel for a hundred years. It needs demolition, not paint. I should get out of here. But Danny yanked her door open and reached out his hand. She looked into his pretty blue eyes before accepting, hanging onto his arm as before. I'm not feeble. I should be offended. Shouldn't I?

The hotel's appeal didn't improve upon closer inspection. Val unlocked the dirty front door while Jane and Danny stood next to one of four tall windows. Faded pink insulation panels covered the interior glass. What's that about? So no one can see inside? Run! But Danny pulled her across the threshold before her feet could change direction. She blinked in the pink-gray dimness. This is it. I'm going to die. She let go of Danny's arm. Run! Val flicked on the lights. Run! Wait...this is...oh my God. Look at this.

To her left stood a nine-foot-tall artificial blue spruce, blazing with lights and covered in purple and clear glass bulbs. Wrapped boxes in silver, pink, and purple surrounded the base. A wreath hung over the room's fireplace, while candles, gold bulbs, and vintage toys crowded the mantel. A second Christmas tree stood in the far corner, decorated in silver and blue, with matching presents underneath. The room's three chandeliers blazed with light, intertwined with greenery. Red and gold glass balls hung from matching colored ribbons from the chandeliers' arms. Lights and swag wrapped around the staircase handrail and decorated the oak front desk, which held a large, colorful nativity set.

"I...this is so...wow."

"I know," Prett said as he stepped up beside her. "I toldt Val he used too mech tinsel." Val signed an objection.

"You did this?" Jane asked Val. He shrugged with a shy smile. She surveyed the festive room again and then looked at the hulking, scruffy man responsible for it. That's amazing.

"Yeah, but who gits the job ah takin' it down in a week?" Prett asked. Val pointed at Danny, who raised his hands in protest, shaking his head. "Ye' kin debate that later, Vals," Prett said, walking to the staircase. "Ye've got a baid to haul up." Danny replied with a double knock of his right hand, followed by poking his forehead with his thumb, his fingers sticking upright. He followed Val across the lobby. "Ye' kin foller me, Miss Jane," Prett called down. "We'll pick out a room fer ye'." Jane trailed him up the stairs. I still don't think this is a good idea.

At least Prett hadn't lied about renovating the hotel. The exterior may have shown no sign of repair, but the interior was a work in progress. Wide squiggly lines of joint compound cris-crossed every yellowed plaster wall and ceiling, revealing the amount of patchwork the men had completed. The oak flooring–creaking with every step–contained fresh polish. All that remained was applying paint, replacing wood trim, and hanging doors.

Prett led Jane down the hallway to the last room on the left. A pink insulation panel covered the lone window, creating a pinkish glow. Hillbilly window treatments? Prett turned on the light as he followed her in, and the pink glow vanished.

"Why are all the walls so yellow?" Jane's voice echoed in the empty room. "Is that old paint?"

"Wallpaper glue. It stains the plaster after a hunnerd years or so."

"Is that how old this building is?"

" 'Bout a hunnerd thirty." He indicated a doorway to the left. "Baidroom's beyond. This here's the sitten' room. We call it ahr honeymoon suite." She entered the shorter, but wider room. Prett pointed to the doorway on the far wall. "It has the biggest bathroom. Thought ye' maht laike that."

Beadboard wainscoting surrounded a white double sink console, toilet, claw-foot whirlpool tub, and glass-enclosed steam shower. The floor's tiles held a smattering of blue hexagon roses in a mosaic sea of white. Like the 1930s. With a modern twist. "Did you do all this yourself?"

Prett leaned in the doorway with a modest expression. "I come up wit the layout, Val picked the design, and Val did most ah the installation. And cheek this out." He turned on another wall switch. "The floor's hetted, to keep yer feet warm in winter." He looked pleased with himself for this added luxury.

"That's nice." Jane looked at the burnished brass fixtures. "You're really letting me stay here?"

"It ain't the Hilton."

"Close enough. Better than freezing in my car, anyway."

"Not mech warmer in here. We jest been hettin' 'nuff to keep the papes from freezin'. We'll round ye' up a hetter." He typed into his phone as he walked to the center of the bedroom. "Maht have one next door."

"Next door?" Jane asked, and Prett gave a nod towards the outer wall. She glanced at the window, obscured by a pink panel. "What's next door?"

"Ahr livin' quareters. A game room. A movie thee-a-ter."

"You live next to a movie theater?"

"Neh. We live above it. Built it ahrselfs."

"You built a movie theater?"

He shrugged. "A small 'un. Seats twenty-one."

"I'd like to see that."

"Mebby I'll give ye' the ten-saint tour." He turned towards a thumping sound coming from the back staircase. "Vals have brung up yer baid." Val and Danny maneuvered in a king-sized box springs covered in plastic. They dropped it to the floor and left.

Prett stepped to the bed, unzipping his overalls. What's he going to–should I run?! Oh. No. A pocket knife. To cut the plastic. Jane helped him pull the wrapping from the box springs, and then he exchanged his knife for his phone. "Ye'll be a'needin' shaets...blankets...a pillow."

"I have a pillow."

"Delete 'pillow.' "

"I also have sheets. But for a twin bed."

Prett looked at her, then the bed. He exhibited the slightest smile and twinkle in his deep-set eyes when he addressed her again. "We maht oughta not mention that fact to the Vals." He returned to his phone. "Shaets. Fer...king...baid. So, what else? Needeh clock?"

"I can use my phone. Except I need to charge it. The battery's dead."

"Phone. Okay. So ye' sleep, ye' git up and wantoo share." He glanced at the bathroom.

Share? Oh. Shower. "I have soap and shampoo. And towels."

He looked her up and down. "And ye' got other clothes?"

"Yes."

"Good, cause ye' kin't be wearin' that." Jane looked at her skirt and heels. "We'll bring yer clothes in, so ye' kin change. Anythin' else ye'll need fer tenaht?"

"Um..." Tampons. Doubt he has those. "Just some...supplies."

"Supplies." He typed it into his phone, and Jane's cheeks heated. "Okay, than. We'll go git yer clothes." He headed into the sitting room. A loud thump and shout followed by a painful groan emanated from the back staircase. "Dun' kill yeself, Val!" Prett shouted towards the outer door. "We got too mech to do teday!" The reply was an irritated grunt overlapped by a two-toned whistle.

They found Danny sitting at the top of the back stairs, his legs straddling a large mattress and looking perturbed. Below him, Val stood waiting. "Takin' a break ahready? Ye' know, Miss Jane here sez she'd'a been happy with a twin baid." Danny threw his hands up in exasperation before pointing towards Val as if to blame him for the choice. "Too late now." Prett headed down the hall, adding over his shoulder, "Oh, and ye'll need to put the doors up'n the rooms." Danny gave an irritated double knock and double thumb-to-the-forehead salute at his brother's back, before grinning at Jane. She smiled at his charming gorgeousness before catching up with Prett at the front staircase.

She had a moment to marvel again at Val's Christmas handiwork before they stepped into the biting wind. Prett handed back her car keys, but he'd left the vehicle unlocked anyway. "I'll need a few bags out of the trunk," she said, popping it open for him. She grabbed sacks of clothing from the back seat, along with her wallet before joining him. He looked confused at the jumble of boxes and plastic bags containing all her worldly possessions.

"No suitcases?"

Don't remind me. "I did have. I sold them to pay for the new transmission. I'll need those two bags." She pointed with her chin. "And that leather satchel."

"Must have been nice suitcases, to pay fer a transmission. Samsonite?"

"Louis Vuitton."

"Shore 'nuff."

And I don't feel guilty. I should have shoved them back in Brandon's face. She smiled. No, pawning them was much more satisfying. I see that now.

Back upstairs, the men hung doors while Jane plugged in her phone and pulled out the clothes she'd slept in the night before. As soon as the bathroom door was up, she changed. Prett gave her a once-over when she emerged. She self-consciously brushed her jeans. "I've worn them a week now. They really need to be washed."

Prett shrugged. "Jeans don't git dirty. They jest git loose."

She looked at his stained overalls. How often does he wash– No. I don't want to know. "I thought of something else I'll need."

"What's that?"

"Toilet paper."

"Shore 'nuff. Foller me." 

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊  

Fun Fact: The Prairie Creek Hotel is based on the Chapman Hotel, pictured here in—I'm guessing—the 1920s/30s. My dad lived in this hotel as a boy in the 1920s, but alas, the building was torn down in the 1980s. 😢  

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