Archer's Lane Case 01 Ch. 07

The Palace Hotel in San Francisco was an impressive building. Eliza stood overwhelmed in the opulent lounge of the hotel and stared with an open mouth at the white marble floor that reflected her silhouette, the arches of the hall, the decorated passages to the halls of the hotel, which promised even more splendour and luxury and clapped her hands from entrancement when she discovered little details like the fresh flowers on a side table next to sofas and chairs, that filled the lobby. Kathleen, meanwhile, was busy checking them both in.

"Kathleen Archer," she introduced herself to the eager receptionist, who was a little too loud.

"Ahh, welcome to San Francisco," he answered with a broad American accent, something they had already gotten used to on the train drive across the continent.

Their passage had progressed without incident and as far as Eliza could determine the other passengers at least acted like they didn't notice the little intermezzo of the two women on the upper deck. And even though they spent the most part of the trip in Kathleen's cabin, there was no revision of their unbridled lust, which took the translator slightly aback, but also gave her an opportunity to deal with her emotions.

When they had reached New York, Eliza couldn't stop her amazement. She had seen the Statue Of Liberty! And all the skyscrapers! She couldn't even imagine how it's possible to build houses as large as these. The Woolworth building, or the Met-Life tower looked as if their pencil tips would actually scratch the sky. Besides that, Frankfurt looked like a village in comparison. On the other hand, imagining Frankfurt with skyscrapers amused her. Or London, at that, her other home. The thought was just too absurd.

She never had an opportunity to find out what the world looked like from up there, because they took the next train straight from New York to California. Eliza wondered who would cover all their cost, because she noticed them getting first class treatment and lodging - especially in comparison to the other travellers she had seen on the way, who had to make the long trip under much worse conditions. She never dared to approach the subject with her girlfriend, though, and actually they didn't talk much at all about the destination and purpose of their trip, and instead the more about New York fashion, the food, the scenery and the people, especially the many African looking people she saw everywhere.

It took a good week for them to reach San Francisco, but they also had regular rest stops and spent the nights in different hotels along the line. All in all it was comparatively comfortable - most of the time they drove in Pullman cars and one time even had a sleep cabin! Still, Eliza was exhausted when they finally stood in the foyer of the hotel, and her back ached from all the sitting and jerking of the railway. But the opulent interior of this building almost made her forget her pain.

"What about Mr. Archer?" she heard the man at the entrance ask, which brought her back to the present.

Kathleen made a small huffing noise, like usual when she tried to stifle a laugh. "Mr. Archer's not going to come," she answered smugly. "He's busy elsewhere. So it's just me and my secretary. We're here for the president's suite."

Eliza turned around towards the reception and smiled friendly when the man eyed her suspiciously. "Well," he answered, "uh, sadly it's currently... uh... unavailable. Can I offer you two other rooms instead?"

The author tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at him. "Is there a room right next to the president's suite?" she asked.

The man scratched his forehead and then leafed through a book. "Suite nr. 8062 would still be vacant," he answered. "And another room on the same level for..."

"We take that one," Kathleen interrupted him. "Many thanks."

"Yes, but..." the receptionist stammered, "it... it certainly isn't looked favourably upon when two women..."

The redheaded woman sighed and pulled a letter from her handbag, which she handed over. "I'm here per request of the government of the United States, and I require constant... access to my assistant to do my work," she explained with a calm and friendly voice, which had only a slightly annoyed undertone.

The man pursed his lips, but didn't say anything else and instead handed her a silvery key, whose tag showed the famous "PH" emblem of the hotel and showed number 8062 on the backside. It didn't take long until a well-dressed maid led them to the elevator and from there to the eighth floor. Other than all the maids they had seen, this one was a young, white woman with brunette hair that peeked out from underneath her bonnet and framed a pretty, long face, which was slightly asymmetrical, so that her left eye was a little higher than the right one, giving her a permanent half-surprised expression.

Elevators were another novelty for Eliza, and she couldn't get enough of the strange feeling of getting moved up or down without taking a single step on a stair, and so she spent her time trying not to clap her hands from excitement.