If anyone calls here-as Mr. Walsh did-we’ll get a message to you.”
“How? Smoke signals?”
“By note, or on your room phone.”
“Okay.” This had an unexpected upside, as well as a downside considering all the calls we needed to make in the next day or two.
Jim continued with the check-in and said, “Two nights. Correct?”
“Correct. Where’s the bar?”
“I’ll get to all that in a moment.” He went through his rap, pushing printed information toward us, along with a souvenir picture book of The Point, a map of the property, and so forth.
Jim asked me, “How will you be settling your account?”
“How about a duel?”
“Sir?”
Kate said to Jim, “Credit card.” She said to me, “John, why don’t you use your personal card, rather than the corporate card?”
“My credit card was stolen.”
“When?”
“About four years ago.”
“Why didn’t you replace it?”
“Because the thief was spending less than my ex-wife.”
No one else seemed to think this was funny. I gave Jim my government R and I Associates corporate card, and he took an imprint.
He marked our map with a highlighter, saying, “If you follow this road, past the warming hut and the croquet field, you’ll come to the Main Lodge. Charles will be waiting for you there.”
“Where’s the bar?”
“Right across from the Main Lodge, in the Eagle’s Nest. Right
“You, too.”
We left the office and Kate inquired, “Why do you have to be such a boor?”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. Are we going to call Walsh?”
“Sure. Where’s the croquet field?”
We got in the car and proceeded down the road, passing the warming hut, whatever the hell that is, then drawing abreast of the croquet field, at which point I asked, “Do you want me to run out there and call Walsh?”
“No. Charles is waiting.”
At the end of the road was a big log structure with a front porch-the Main Lodge-from which another young gentleman, dressed in a tie and jacket, was waving to us. I pulled up, and we got out.
The young fellow bounded down the steps, greeted us, and introduced himself as Charles, adding, “I believe I spoke to Mr. Corey earlier.”
“You did.”
He made a joke and said, “We’ve fed the bears.”
“Great. Can you feed us?”
I think Charles wanted to feed
“I don’t have either, Charles.”
“Oh… goodness… we can loan you a jacket and tie.”
Funny that Kate’s black jeans passed muster, but I needed a tie and jacket. I said to Charles, “That won’t be necessary. Where’s the bar?”
He pointed to yet another rustic building about a hundred feet away, and said, “The Pub is right there, sir. There are a number of self-service bars on the property, and all the staff are bartenders, but if you don’t see any staff at any of the bars, please help yourself.”
“I might like this place.”
“Please follow me.”
We followed him up the porch steps and into a rotunda-shaped room, all done up in Adirondack style, which was starting to get on my nerves.
Charles said, “This is the entrance foyer to the Main Lodge, which was the home of William Avery Rockefeller.”
A nanosecond before I could get off a good one, Kate said, “This is a beautiful room.”
Charles smiled. “It’s all original.”
Clearly Charles enjoyed the finer things in life. In the middle of the room was a round table, on which sat an urn of flowers and a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket, with three fluted glasses. Charles popped the cork, poured, and handed us each a glass, then raised his own. “Welcome.”
I really don’t drink this stuff, but to be polite-and because I needed the alcohol-I clinked and we all drank.
Charles indicated a small room off the rotunda and said, “Here is a complimentary self-service bar which is open all day and night for your convenience.”
It was convenient right now, but Charles continued, “And here”-he motioned toward an arched opening in the rotunda-“is the Great Hall.”
I peeked into the Great Hall, which reminded me of the great hall where we’d sat with Bain Madox. Except in this Great Hall, at the far end, were two large, round dining tables in front of a big roaring fireplace. At each table were about ten ladies and gentlemen, eating and drinking, and though I couldn’t hear them, I was certain they were engaged in witty conversations that bordered on the banal.
Charles said, “You can access your room, the Mohawk-which by the way was William Avery Rockefeller’s master bedroom-through the Great Hall, but since dinner is being served, you may want to go around to your outside entrance, which I’ll show you in a moment.”
I suggested, “I think we need a drink first.”
He nodded. “Of course. If you leave me your keys, we’ll take care of your car and put your luggage in your room.”
Kate replied, “We don’t have luggage,” and, apparently concerned that Charles was thinking she and I had just met at a truck stop or something, added, “This trip was sudden, and our luggage will be following tomorrow. In the meantime, can you provide us with some sundries? Toothbrushes, a razor, and so forth?”
“Of course. I’ll have some items delivered to your room.”
Women are very practical, not to mention concerned about what total strangers think, so, to be a good, loyal husband, I said to Charles, “We’re celebrating our wedding anniversary, and we were so excited, we packed the Bentley, then took the Ford by mistake.”
Charles processed that, then offered us another champagne, which I declined for both of us. “We’ll be in the Pub,” I said. “Can you get some food over there?”
“Certainly. If there’s anything else you need, just ask anyone on staff.”
“How about a room key?”
“There are no keys.”
“How do I get in the room?”
“There are no locks.”
“How do I keep the bears out?”
“The doors have inside bolts.”
“Can a bear-?”
“John. Let’s get a drink.”
“Right.” I said to Charles, “My car has a key. Here it is. I need a wake-up call at six A.M.”
“Yes, sir. Would you like breakfast in your room, or in the Great Hall?”
Kate replied, “I’d like breakfast in the room.”
