Free 5 Check-Out Time by Kate Kingsbury

face of a Greek god.
    “I would like it very much if you would call me Altheda,” she said breathlessly.
    “Altheda,” he repeated, making her name sound like the most romantic word ever invented. “’Tis a pretty name, to be sure. I will be honored and delighted to hear it tripping from my lips. That I will.”
    “Oh!” Titillated by the thought of anything tripping from his lips, Mrs. Chubb found herself incapable of answering him, which was not like Altheda Chubb at all. She fled instead, across the floor to the stairs, completely forgetting the reason she had come up them in the first place.
    When Cecily arrived a few minutes later, Arthur was back at his post by the door. He greeted Cecily with a cheery “Good evening,” giving her a roguish smile that might have turned her head twenty years ago. His charm certainly went a long way toward restoring her good spirits. Until he told her what had transpired since she’d left the hotel earlier.
    “Lady Lavinia has taken to her bed, ma’am;” he said. “She is stricken with grief, poor lady, and is unable to cope with anything. She has left orders not to be disturbed.”
    “Oh, dear, I was afraid of that.” Cecily pulled her wrap from her shoulders and folded it over her arm. “Perhaps Ishould call the doctor to tend to her. The shock must have been devastating for her.”
    “I’m sure it must have been, ma’am. But if you’ll pardon me for saying, it isn’t milady you should be worrying about.”
    Cecily wrinkled her brow. “Something else has happened?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Arthur glanced around the lobby as if making sure they were alone. “It’s not my place to be carrying tales, but no doubt you will hear of it sooner or later.”
    Becoming alarmed now, Cecily said sharply, “What is it, Arthur?”
    “It’s the boy, Master Stanley Malton, ma’am. He’s being a holy terror, begging your pardon.”
    “What has he done now?”
    “I daresay, it’s not all his fault, mind. With his father lying dead and his mother taken to her bed, there is no one to discipline the lad. I would venture to say he’s had little enough of that as it is. He appears to show very little respect, or grief for that matter. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet that his dear father has departed to heaven and will not be coming back.”
    “Maybe so,” Cecily said with a touch of impatience. “But I would like to know what the boy has been up to.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Arthur lifted his hand and began counting off on his fingers. “Well, now, let me see. He ran water into the kitchen sink so that it overflowed. He stuffed newspaper down the lavatory and blocked it. He smeared black boot polish all over the drawing room windows. Then he took the bearskin rug from the floor, draped it over himself, and gave a good many ladies in the hotel an attack of the vapors when he crawled down the corridors growling and snarling like a hungry lion.”
    “Oh, good Lord.”
    “That’s not all, I’m afraid, ma’am.”
    Cecily groaned. “There’s more?”
    Arthur solemnly nodded. “He cornered Gertie in the kitchen yard. He had the bearskin rug over him, and he clutched a baby doll between his teeth. Gertie thought it was a real baby, her being so close to motherhood herself, so to speak. Mrs. Chubb had to calm her down and put her to bed.”
    “Where is he now?” Cecily asked grimly.
    “Locked in the suite with his mother, though how the poor woman will put up with him, her being so ill and all, I shudder to think.”
    “So do I.” She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, its face barely visible in the dim light from the gas lamps. “It’s too late to do much tonight, but tomorrow I’ll have a word with the boy. Maybe we can get someone to keep an eye on him.”
    “That sounds like an excellent idea, though who will agree to take on that formidable task, I can’t imagine.”
    Cecily shook her head. “Someone will have to do it. I’ll take care of it in the