Hey there,

Well here's what happend when a plot bunny cuts line. . .I just woke up with this idea in my head Sunday morning and went to town. It's totally original, all the characters and settings are mine :)

Enjoy,

JEn

By Jenna.

Emily had just gotten hired by the Palace Hotel right before the summer tourist season hit. This was the kind of job she'd always dreamed of, something relaxing where everyone around her was enjoying themselves. Her responsibility, as assistant to the concierge, was to make sure that's what happened.

Bobby was her superior. It was a strange name for an old man, but it seemed to fit him. He was spry and his bright blue eyes still shone; defiant of the 86 years that had long since weighed down the rest of his body. Bobby welcomed her like family and insisted that she be completely settled in before she ever began a day of work. She promised to start on Sunday, tomorrow, and happily moved into her compacted suite.

It was mostly one room, with a low wall dividing the sleeping and sitting areas. There was no kitchen. Employees who lived at the Palace took their meals in the dining room, just like any other guest. She did, however have a mini-fridge and a microwave for the times she didn't feel like going downstairs. The room was well furnished with antique furniture, soft blankets, comfortable chairs and carpeting that begged to be walked on barefoot. It made up for the less than stellar view the windows offered.

Emily cracked open her suitcases and began to unpack. She filled the drawers of her armoire with clothing, then hung the rest on a nearby garment pole. A portable stereo, a modest collection of music and a laptop graced her desk. In the bathroom the counter became home to a collection of cosmetics and other essentials. She smiled when she saw the white claw foot bathtub resting casually in the corner. It looked deep and inviting and just a little intimidating. She'd never really done without a shower before, it would be interesting to get used to, she thought.

Between bouts of unpacking, Emily wandered down to the lobby in an effort to meet people and get acquainted with her new home. Most were very friendly, like Roberta, who never seemed to leave the service desk. She was a middle aged woman with rich coffee colored skin and a voice so soothing Emily thought she could listen to her for hours. Her hair fell in a cascade of braids that hung like a heavy fringe over her full figure. Small beads on the edge of each braid clacked together whenever she turned her head.

"There's wonderful folks here. You'll see. By the end of the summer this place'll be home to you," Roberta assured her. "Even Dale over there isn't as aloof as he likes to think," She said. "He's the chief of security, but he takes care of a lot of other things, too."

Emily turned her head to see who Roberta was talking about. Across the lobby stood a tall, dark-haired man who looked like he'd be more comfortable on a ranch rather than an aging luxury hotel. His green and blue plaid shirt was neatly tucked into a well worn pair of wranglers that never seemed to stray too far away from the lines of his body. He was talking to Bobby and as Emily watched, Bobby pointed her out with a wave. She waved back shyly then again turned her attention to Roberta. They were still talking when Dale came up behind her.

"Emily Montrose?" He asked. She spun around, startled by the deep, gruff voice behind her. "You're Emily?" Dale crossed his arms impatiently waiting for her answer. She reached her hand out in greeting, but he simply looked at it. Embarrassed, she dropped her hand and answered him. "Be in my office in 10 minutes to fill out your paperwork or you won't get paid Friday." He nodded to Roberta then left without so much as offering directions. Emily watched him leave, shocked by his demeanor, then turned to Roberta for an explanation.

"It's alright, honey. He's like an old car - it takes him a while to warm up but once he does, he's as dependable as they come." Roberta smiled and patted her hand. "You better go, he's a stickler for punctuality."

Emily heaved a sigh, smiled lightly at some approaching guests then began making her way toward a door nestled in the far corner of the lobby marked 'employees only.' She knocked then looked around as she waited for Dale to answer. It didn't take long and soon she found herself sitting across from him in a large, but cluttered office. The battered old desk was home to several stacks of paper, a scattering of pens and pencils, a toppled pencil cup and a mug of coffee that looked like it had sat there since early last week. A short, fat safe sat in the far corner of his office under a barely living houseplant. The room had no windows. He fished some pages from a drawer and retrieved a clipboard. After putting the papers together he offered her the board and a pen and she began filling out the documents. There was silence in the office.

Dale watched her write. Her hand moved smoothly across the pages as she filled the forms, only stopping now and then as she though about her answers. She was pretty, he thought. Not exceptional but pleasant to look at. Her buttery blonde hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, and dressed the way she was in jeans and a loose-fitting top, he figured she was fairly laid back.

"Did you find your room alright?" He asked, trying to break the suddenly oppressive silence. Emily glanced up and acknowledged his question.

"It's nice, I wasn't expecting anything that fancy," she said, then continued filling out the forms. Dale slouched in his chair as guilt for his earlier behavior set in. He collected some stray pens and dropped them back into their cup, then shuffled papers around in an attempt to clean his place up a little.

"Is there anything you need?" He asked, hoping to warm up the conversation.

"I was just hired as a concierge," she said. "If I need anything it's better I find it myself." Emily was joking but when she looked at Dale she realized she had sounded more curt than she intended. "Well you know what I mean. . .In case a guest needs the same thing?" She handed the clip board back to him and was momentarily caught in the gaze of his suede grey eyes. She hadn't noticed them when he talked to her in the lobby and now, after her short response to him, they seemed particularly expressive. Surprised, she pulled her hand away from the clipboard and ended up spilling his recently gathered cup of pens across his desk. Emily groaned at her carelessness and immediately began rounding them up. Dale chuckled as she struggled with the pens, they were not cooperating and for as many as she was able to capture, more were falling off the desk into his lap.

"It's alright," he said. I can take care of it. Flustered, Emily refused to give up on the chase until, without thinking, she reached over the desk intent on retrieving the ones in his lap. The collar of her blouse fell open revealing to Dale the alabaster tops of her breasts cradled in rich looking, blue lace. Gasping, he caught her hand and she stopped instantly. "It's alright. . .Really," he said, turning his face away from her. Emily looked down and was met with a clear view into her blouse. A maddening blush filled her cheeks as she quickly pulled away from him and retreated to the door. "Emily," Dale called after her. She stopped, spun around and looked at him desperate to get away.

"Is there anything else you needed?" Emily was trying to stay calm, but it didn't help to see the look on his face. She couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or amused, and it took everything she had to keep from simply running out of his office. This was no way to start a new job, she thought. But she couldn't dismiss the idea that she had just flashed a coworker while trying to dive between his legs to retrieve a pen. He began to shake his head, but before he could say anything she was out the door and walking briskly back to the relative safety of her room.

It was after 11 that night when she emerged again, a small stack of dirty dishes in her hand. She had chosen to have dinner in her room rather than risk running into Dale. Tomorrow, she decided, she would wear a turtle neck. On her way back from the kitchen, Emily explored the hotel a little. She remembered staying here once or twice with her parents when she was a child, but it had been a long time since then. And age has a way of putting a golden patina on beloved memories. The lobby was empty of people, except for the night clerk who was resting comfortably behind the counter. He nodded as she walked by but seemed more interested in the sports scores flashing across his portable television than talking to her. It was well enough, she thought. She didn't feel like being social.

She passed by the concierge's desk, which was closed for the evening, and smiled at the thought of her working there tomorrow. It was a large stately desk presiding over a Persian rug with dignity. From there she could see everyone who came and went through the main doors of the hotel. Not that she'd spend much time there anyway, she thought. But it was nice to have a little station of her own. Bobby had moved into one of the upper offices when she was hired. He said because she needed to be where the action was, where he was content to watch from above. It was understood that he wanted to retire at the end of the summer and Emily would be his replacement. But what she didn't understand is why he'd hire someone with almost no experience to succeed him if he knew it meant staying on longer than he wanted in order to train them. Emily was never able to get a straight answer out of him.

The carpet in the lobby was old and the gold and blue fleur-de-lis pattern had faded with the years but it still looked regal and inviting as it stretched across the open expanse. Chairs were grouped here and there for guests to sit and relax while the walls reached up two stories and were capped with a ceiling painted light blue with tiny, golden stars. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling like jewelry. Emily imagined that the Palace was probably very beautiful when it was new. Just like Bobby had told her, the talk of the town. Even now she could still see some of its beauty, although in places it was dulled by a need for restoration. The gilded clock which was mounted high on the center column had stopped running some time ago, and the room sat at 10:55 forever.

She climbed the grand staircase to the mezzanine, her fingers passing over the cool cream colored marble banister as she went. Once she was upstairs, she looked back at the lobby and smiled. It was still beautiful, she decided as the chandeliers sparkled in the soft light.

In the distance she heard music playing and her curiosity was summoned. Walking toward the sound, she found an elaborate party going on in the Aspen Room. She wasn't aware there was anything scheduled for tonight, but knowing Bobby he probably didn't want to give her the chance to worry about it. Work, he said, started tomorrow. Until then she was a guest. Emily smiled as she watched people dance by the open doors. They were dressed formally she noticed and there was a live band playing music she remembers hearing in her grandmother's home. Laughter floated through the air like bubbles.

"Why don't you go in?" A deep voice said behind her. Emily turned to see a man in a tuxedo. "I'm Bruce." He smiled and sauntered closer. He had the same wavy hair and suede grey eyes that Dale did and it made her wonder if they were related. Had he been younger she might have thought it was Dale, but the touch of silver feathering at his temples ruled out that possibility.

"I'm Emily," she answered, surprised she didn't see him approach. "I don't think. . ."

"It's open for everyone," he said without letting her finish.

"Well I'm not exactly dressed for it." She smiled at him, then looked down at her rather plain ensemble. "This isn't what I'd call formalwear."

"Nonsense! You look wonderful!" The corners of his eyes crinkled in an attractive way when he smiled. Bruce extended his arm and urged her to take it. Looking around, Emily struggled to find a graceful way to say no but he had already grabbed her hand, placed it over his arm and began leading her in before she could say anything. She was too surprised to argue. "See? You were worried about nothing," he said. Bruce was right, not a single person had turned to look at her and Emily didn't know whether to relax or worry because of it. How often can you show up, uninvited and in jeans, to a formal affair and not be noticed? He led her to an empty table near the dance floor.

"Do I know you?" She asked, after they sat down. She thought perhaps she had met him earlier, but had forgotten. It would be easy to do, Emily reasoned, after meeting so many people in one day. Not to mention the humiliation in Dale's office. That in itself was enough to make her forget everything, or anyone, else.

"No," he said. "We just met outside, don't you remember?" Bruce smiled mischievously as Emily eased into her seat with a shy smile. "Enjoy yourself, that's why we're here."

"If you insist." She watched a waiter set a long-stemmed martini glass before her and a second in front of Bruce. He reached for his glass and drank enthusiastically, his gaze never quite leaving her. A moment later another waiter appeared with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. A collection of glazed shrimp, stuffed mushrooms, and calamari awaited their consumption. Emily reached for her fork and the two dove into their meal. It wasn't long until she was too busy enjoying herself to remember how out of place she felt.

"When did you start working here?" Bruce asked, as he pierced a mushroom with his fork. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Are you an employee?" Emily smiled as the mushroom escaped him, forcing Bruce to chase it across the plate. "Where do you work? I'm Bobby's assistant." She took a sip of the martini and winced at the flavor. "Well I'll be starting tomorrow anyway."

"Oh no, I don't work here, I'm a guest," Bruce said. "But I come quite a bit." He laughed. "Sometimes I think I live here!" He watched as she started to withdraw. "You're not gonna get all shy on me again because I'm a guest, are you?" The look in his eyes could melt the resolve of any woman in the room, Emily decided, as she hid her smile behind a sip from her martini. "Besides, you're a concierge, that means it's your job to make sure the guests are happy, right?" Bruce waited for her nod before he continued. "Well your company makes me happy."

Now how am I supposed to argue with that, Emily thought, as she watched a couple dance by. The room was filled with a golden, champagne colored light and everyone moved gracefully, like a dream. There were no windows in here, she noticed, just mirrors that reflected the light and made the ballroom look even larger than it already was. Small, intimate tables dotted the room; each one decorated with crisp white linens and a crown of candles and magnolias. Domed lights trailed down the center of the ceiling like buttons and hundreds of smaller lights fell in tails from each one, connecting the domes in a fabric of small, twinkling bulbs. It looked festive and decadent like the room was an exotic tent made of light. In the far corner she saw a young girl sitting on a bench by herself. Her pale blonde hair fell in smooth waves along her shoulders and she wore a white satin gown. As she watched the girl, Emily realized she was flirting with a young man not too far away. How sweet, she thought, as she watched the young man approach then back away again, nervous about meeting her.

Bruce caught on to what Emily was watching. "You're a romantic," he said.

"I guess I am," she answered, smiling as the girl turned away from her suitor only to glance back demurely before turning away again. "I like to see people happy."

"Well don't worry about those two, they'll be alright," he said, as if he already knew the outcome of their flirtation. The suitor casually ambled back into the girl's line of sight, pretending to study a piece of art hanging on the wall and she smiled.

"How do you know?" She turned toward Bruce who was no longer watching the couple, but had rested his gaze on her instead.

"Oh, they've been doing that forever," he said casually. "Do you. . ." Bruce motioned to the dance floor.

"I'm not so great," she admitted. "I'm kind of klutzy."

"You can't be that bad. . . Come on, it's almost midnight." Without waiting for an argument, Bruce pulled her from her chair and onto the dance floor. Before she knew it, his arms were around her and he was guiding her in a slow, if not graceful waltz. "Just relax," he said. "Let me lead you." Emily felt like she was floating.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, and Bruce spun her around. Emily giggled and relaxed into his embrace. The night had become a dream, and she was more than willing to let it continue. As they turned she spotted the young man leading the girl onto the dance floor. Both of them were smiling, but still too shy to really look at one another.

"Look," Emily said. "He did it, they're dancing."

"I told you not to worry." His hand tightened around her waist and gently pulled her closer. Emily didn't object. "You're a better dancer than you give yourself credit," he said.

The music faded and they stopped dancing, but his hand never strayed from her waist. "Ladies and gentlemen. . ." A stout, balding man was standing center stage trying to get everyone's attention. "Please, If I can have your attention for just a moment. . .It's almost midnight, less than an minute to go. . ." As he spoke, waiters appeared with trays loaded with tall, slender glasses of champagne. They passed through the cheering crowd distributing them. Emily and Bruce happily took their glasses and turned to face the speaker again who had started counting down. "Five seconds now. . .Four. . ."

Emily looked at Bruce, confused as to why this midnight should be so important, but when she saw him smile at her, the confusion fell away. She didn't care why, she was just happy to be there.

The crowd joined in the countdown, "Three. . .Two" Bruce's hand rested gently on the small of her back and squeezed lightly as if he wanted her closer but couldn't summon the courage to do it. ". . .One. . ." As the lights began to fade, she caught a glimpse of the young man leaning forward to steal a kiss. Emily found herself wishing she was so lucky. Then the lights were out and she expected to hear a cheer of something at any second but only silence rang through the room. Instead, she found herself standing in darkness.

"What are you doing in here?" A rough voice rang through the black room and in a flash the overhead lights blazed down on her. Emily spun around, startled by the outburst and found herself standing in a dusty, unused storage room. Stacks of chairs towered around her and tables leaned against each other in rows like soldiers. There was no one else there, no band, no dancers. . . no Bruce.

"This door is supposed to be locked, how did you get in?" Dale was staring at her in the doorway demanding an answer. "Emily?" He repeated her name but it seemed like she couldn't hear him.

She began shaking as she looked around, trying to understand what happened. Her knees buckled and she nearly hit the floor had Dale not caught her in time. "Emily, what's wrong?" He held her up as they slowly walked out of the room. The strength of his arm around her waist felt hauntingly familiar and Emily reached for him trying to decide, once and for all, who was holding her. Once outside, he guided her to a nearby sofa and sat down. She was still shaking and couldn't speak. "Here, wait here, I'll be right back." Rushing off, he disappeared into a nearby room only to emerge a moment later with a glass of water and a small emergency kit.

"Are you alright?" He asked again, trying to find any signs of injury. There were none. Emily drank slowly from her glass before she tried to answer him. She didn't know what to say, how could you explain you were standing in a room full of people only a second earlier? Where did they all go?

Slowly, as she began to try and tell him what happened, the shaking eased. Her voice was nearly a whisper and Dale had to close the space between them in order to hear her. "I can't explain it any better than that," she said. "Maybe I was dreaming? I don't know."

"No I don't think you were." Dale looked back at the now closed doors of the Aspen Room, then smiled gently at her. "You told me your wild story, now let me share one of mine."

"I don't know if I like the sound of that." She was still shaking lightly, but having someone nearby was comforting, as long as they didn't disappear on her as well. He stroked her back lightly trying to soothe her as he spoke.

"The Aspen Room used to see a lot of great parties before we closed it down and moved them to the restaurant on the top floor," he explained. "Apparently some of our former guests like the Aspen Room better. I don't blame them it was really something in its day." He smiled shyly as nostalgia took over briefly. "I remember when I was a kid I'd see all those little lights hanging from the ceiling. I would sit out here and watch the people through the door. They always had a live band."

"Former guests? You're telling me this place is haunted?" Emily turned away from the doors and faced Dale, surprised to see him sitting so close, but not alarmed by it. "I was dancing with a bunch of ghosts?" Emily began shaking again as his words sank in. "It was too real. . .I ate food, I felt. . .We were dancing!"

"I know, it's. . .I can't explain it." Dale was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to calm her, especially since he'd never had an experience himself. "But they're not bad ghosts. They liked it here, they just don't want it to end."

"I don't know if. . ." She gasped as tears began to fall. Wiping at her face, Emily continued. "I wasn't prepared for this," she said. His hand stopped caressing her and nervously pulled her close as she began crying.

*

The next morning Emily showed up at the concierge's desk at exactly 9am ready to work. "I heard you had a little adventure last night," Roberta said, as she approached. Emily looked at her, rolled her eyes then went back to getting aquainted with the area. "Are you alright?"

"How did you find out?" Emily asked, already knowing the answer to her question.

"Dale told me." Roberta held up her hand to stop Emily from speaking. "He was worried about you," she said. Roberta sat down in the chair across from Emily. "Not many people have seen them in there, though. Usually we might catch one walking up the stairs or in the dining room."

"So I was the only one invited to join them, huh?" Emily smiled wryly. "That's just great." As she relayed her story to Roberta, Dale approached. He stood quietly at the edge of the Persian rug where her desk sat waiting for her to finish. When Emily saw him, he came closer, but didn't sit down. Instead he stayed standing, hooking his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans.

"How are you doing today?" He asked, clearly nervous. Roberta smiled inwardly at his concern. Although Dale wasn't cold, he was reserved enough for her to start getting ideas about his intentions. Emily nodded her head in response, but didn't know exactly how to answer him.

"I'll be alright," she finally offered. "Thanks." She studied the landscape of her desk trying to find something else to say.

"So did you tell her the story behind those two?" Roberta asked, as she looked toward Dale. He shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Not quite. . ."

"Two?" Emily asked. "There was a room full!"

"No, hon, there's only two. A young blonde woman and her suitor." Roberta stopped as she saw Emily pale with the news. "Agatha and Edward. . .they met and fell in love at a new years party here back in 1921."

"I saw them. They were flirting with each other," she said, looking toward Dale for confirmation.

"They got married here and came back every year on their anniversary," he explained. "Then Edward died and Aggie came alone. When we lost her in '98 the hauntings began."

"You knew them?" Emily was surprised by the news. "How did you know it was them?"

Roberta smiled, happy to see her curiosity was beginning to win over her fear. "Bobby practically grew up here," she said. "He saw Aggie walking up the grand staircase toward the Aspen Room once and he recognized her. He said he called her name and she turned to look at him. She even smiled, but didn't answer."

"So they still come back year after year?" Emily asked. "Even now? How romantic."

"Well, it's more like they're always around," Dale said. "Just kind of keeping a watch over the place. . . And the people."

"That explains those two, but what about Bruce?"

"Bruce?" Roberta asked. "Who's that? I've never heard of him before. What did he look like?"

"He's the man who invited me in, the one I danced with." Emily looked around, then her eyes fell on Dale and she was suddenly embarrassed. "He looked almost like you. . .had your eyes," she said, staring at him as if she could extract one man from the other if only she looked hard enough. Roberta turned and stared at Dale also, as if he had some explanation for the coincidence. His discomfort grew and Dale eventually had to turn away from them. Emily backed off with an apology.

Dale shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know a Bruce," he said. Emily nodded her head and smiled. She never told him that it seemed like he had been waiting for her to show up and how closely he held her as they danced. And she definitely didn't tell him how she envied the young girl and her suitor for an innocent kiss.

"He was very charming," she finally admitted.

"Well then Dale, we know for certain it wasn't you!" Roberta was joking, but Dale took the jibe personally. He shot her a cautionary look and she apologized with a chuckle. "You know. . ." Roberta started and Dale immediately groaned and shook his head. "Rumor has it that Aggie and Ed fell in love here and they like to play cupid with others sometimes."

"That's just legend," Dale added. "People always need to give them a reason for sticking around. How are we supposed to know?"

"Well they gotta have a reason, otherwise why stay?" Roberta argued.

"Fine, they liked the view, how's that?" Dale grinned at Roberta, and the three of them laughed at the idea. Emily relaxed as their own comfort with the hotel's spectral guests filtered into her. A bell at the service desk rang and Roberta immediately leapt to her feet. Emily could hear her welcoming the guests as she returned to her post. While Roberta worked she took a quick glance back at Emily and saw that Dale had moved closer to her. In fact, he was perched on the corner of her desk and they were talking quietly.

Emily pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. It was shaky, but it was a smile, Roberta noted, and she silently decided that despite what Dale said about the ghosts only liking the view, she knew Agatha and Edward had to be up to something. Roberta finished checking the guests in as Emily and Dale ended their conversation. He passed by the service desk and Roberta called him over.

"So what do you think?" She asked, cryptically.

"About what?" Dale looked plainly at Roberta, easily masking any kind of reaction to her question. "I was just asking her if she planned on staying on," he said. Roberta waited for another answer. "She said she would. She just has to get used to the idea of them." He chuckled. "And remember not to get pulled into any more parties." Dale turned his head as Emily walked past, her heels mute against the carpet. She was all smiles to the guests, carefree, as if nothing had happened the night before. As if in the few moments after Roberta left she hadn't thanked him for staying with her last night because she was too scared to be alone.

"So, let me ask you," Roberta began again. "You weren't on duty last night."

"No I wasn't."

"So how did you find her there?" She watched closely for his reaction, and he didn't disappoint her. Dale stole another quick glance in Emily's direction, then blushed when he realized Roberta had caught him.

He smiled boyishly. "I heard music playing," was all he said before he turned and walked away.

End.