Hotel Candelabra: Chapters 16, 17, & 18

Three Chapters to Begin Day Three!

The End of Chapter Fifteen:

Then, looking around the circle, I said, “Let’s all sleep on it, but do you think whatever is in the basement is why we are all stuck here in Hotel Candelabra?”

The looks the women gave to each other told me they had also considered this as a possibility.

“Well, I asked because during my nap I dreamed that the elevator crashed into the basement. A stairway in a secret passageway is a much better way to get there. Knowing where the door is located is helpful.”

If only it had been that simple.

Day Three: Chapter Sixteen

“Good morning, Genius!”

I would never get accustomed to Alden appearing in my room in the morning!

“Do you do this to everyone?” I asked.

“Yes, but you are the only one I call genius,” he retorted.

Lucky me.

“So, is everyone else up?” It felt comforting to know I was not alone in solving the problem. Yesterday had been overwhelming before the others came out of their doors.

“They are, and breakfast is waiting. They all arrived in their robes, so no need to spend time getting dressed yet.”

Once again, my robe was waiting for me on the bed. Donning the robe, I headed to the bathroom. My hair was standing completely on end. It seemed as astonished by the turn of events in our life as I was. Conquering it was no small task and when I got to the table it seemed that everyone else had a similar problem.

“Good morning, everyone,” I mumbled. Nine mumbles returned the greeting. Everyone had a cup of coffee in their hand. I wondered if Alden could consider waking us up a bit later in the morning.

We ate mostly in silence, and I was glad to see that 60 seemed to have recovered from the upset the night before. She broke the silence by sharing how she had tripped over her shoes coming back from the bathroom during the night and miraculously landed face-first on the bed. Everyone laughed, which seemed to break the silence, and they began to chatter. I had the uneasy feeling that I had dreamed about falling on the bed. How odd.

As Alden cleared the dishes, I noticed 68 and 69 in an intense conversation. “We need to get organized,” 68 said.

“Well,” 69 responded, “We really don’t know what to organize until 70 figures out what she is going to do.” And with that, they both turned and stared at me. I was not exactly sure that their high hopes should rest on my shoulders, but glancing at the burning candles, I figured some decision was better than no decision.

Sounding much more confident than I felt, I said, “I think I need to go look at the tins on the shelf on the middle level. Alden indicated they held clues.”

“You mean the shelf behind you?”

Sure enough. Turning in my chair, I realized that the shelf I had seen earlier was now in this room. Why did things move around like that?

“Well, that simplifies things, doesn’t it?” I murmured. “Shall we start with #1?”

As soon as I said it, I realized that something was different. This shelf was much taller and divided into four sections. The top of the bookcase had tins labeled 60 to 70. The top section had whitewashed tins labeled 40 to 59; the middle section, 20 to 39 were like the one I saw before. The bottom section had identical tin boxes labeled 1 to 19. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be Jack-in-the-Box toys. What surprises would those hold, I wondered?

“On second thought,” I said, “Do we want to start with our tins?”

“That won’t work.” This was a voice I had not yet heard. I looked at my list, and realized that 61, the Brave one, had never said a word.

“I need to tell my story first,” she said. “I think I am the reason we are all stuck here.”

69 shook her head in disagreement, but then suggested we sit down and listen to 61’s story. The only one who hesitated was 60.

Day Three: Chapter Seventeen

“Wait, do we want to take our tins with us?” 68 was still doing her best to keep things organized.

One by one the tins were taken off the top shelf and everyone gathered in the sitting area. Everyone was surprised when 60 began talking. “I think I should go first. We all know that I have a fear of basements and that is what frightened me yesterday.  What 61 is going to say will make no sense unless I explain my story. Or at least what I know, because it may be my fault that we are stuck in Hotel Candelabra.”

The change from the previous evening was astounding. I wondered if she hadn’t been misnamed and should have been called Brave. I leaned forward to listen.

60 began, “I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but this horrible dark cloud hovered over me all the time.”

I didn’t want to interrupt her, but it seemed uncanny that it was exactly how I felt when dodged the storm by walking into the Hotel Candelabra.

She continued, “Then it started storming and the lightning was blinding, and I saw the sign for Hotel Candelabra and ran in the door. And the door disappeared behind me.”

My voice sounded like it came from a distant planet as I said, “That is exactly how I got here.” And one by one, the others said, “Me too.”

You could have heard a pin drop as everyone stared at me with the sinking realization that we had all arrived exactly the same way. Hotel Candelabra was our refuge from the storm.

Then with wisdom beyond what I was feeling, I asked, “Are we trapped here by our fear of the storm?”

In response, 61 said, “I think I can tell my story now. I was very brave. The storm was going to kill me unless I got help, so I called a therapist. Even though I was brave, I still ended up here in Hotel Candelabra. At some level, I believe we all know the stories on the floors below us and 60 knows why she is afraid of basements. All of us in this room worked very hard to heal and yet here we are. Why is that? Year after year another one of us lands here with me. We aren’t being pummeled by the storm anymore, but we certainly are not free. It is so frustrating. I don’t know why we think 70 has the answer—but then we think that every year, don’t we? We just never were in the same room to talk about it.”

She was right, what good did it do to heal the stories if we never gained our freedom? Why was I still running from a storm that those who sat around me had worked to heal? Why did I take refuge here along with them? And why were there so many locked doors in the rooms below us? Did they also come here because they were running from the storm? So many questions.

 I looked at the tin in my lap and wondered what was inside. Everyone else seemed to have the same thought. It was the brave one who opened her tin first.

Day Three: Chapter Eighteen

By the time everyone had opened their tins and placed the small objects they held in the middle of the table, we were more confused than before. Though we could imagine how we were connected to the object, its usefulness in getting us out of Hotel Candelabra was far beyond the reach of our imagination.

It made sense that the comedian had a small round happy face bouncy ball. The miniature typewriter definitely belonged to the storyteller. The brave one had to explain the tiny Victorian house as where she went to therapy. The problem solver had a random puzzle piece, and the explorer laid down a compass. Everyone laughed when the organizer pulled out a to-do list notepad. The clue finder’s magnifying glass made sense, as did the decorator’s miniature hammer. The story holder pulled out a miniature journal. The caregiver looked a little confused by a tiny vinyl record, but quickly exclaimed, “Yes, it is the music!”

As each one placed the object on the table, they shared the part of the story that they held. The ones with lower numbers were fascinated by stories they had missed as they were unable to leave their rooms.

I was the last to pull my object from the tin—it was a tiny candelabra with places for five candles—I assumed one for each floor of the hotel plus my candle in the center.

We had not realized that Alden was standing behind us as we opened the tins—until he began speaking—causing everyone to jump.

“When you understand the meanings of those objects, you will know how to find the door and leave Hotel Candelabra.”

My brain hurt.

It occurred to me that the shelf was still full of tins. “Alden, do the other tins have clues?”

“No, they all hold keys. It is your job to go open the doors and help everyone out of their rooms.”

I glanced at the burning candles. “You know that I am only one person and there are 59 rooms, right?”

“Are you sure you are the only one who can help them out?” he asked.

Everyone looked around the circle. There were nine more besides me.

“But I thought I was the only one who could leave this floor!”

Alden smiled as he said, “Not if they hold a key.”

He turned to leave, but I had one more question. “Did all the others come here the same way we did?”

The look on his face was the same one my dad had when he called me a genius.

“No,” he said. “They came here in your baggage.”

And with that, he vanished behind the bookshelf.