TALES FROM THE SOUTHERN HOTEL
by Stephanie N. Macomber
Smashwords Edition published at Smashwords by Crossroad Press
Copyright 2010 Stephanie N. Macomber & Crossroad Press
LICENSE NOTES:
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your vendor of choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The Story Behind the Stories
The Southern Hotel, in fact, was once operated as a hotel in Elizabeth City, North Carolina. Mary Lou and all the other characters are completely fictional, but the hotel and town are based on actual places.
The historic atmosphere of the 1872 hotel inspired "what if" type thoughts the second I peeked through the window and saw the lobby in July 2005. As my family, the realtors, and I toured the four-story, brick structure we noticed it hadn’t changed much since the last renovation in the 20s, except for the 1970s carpet and paneling in some of the rooms upstairs. It felt like stepping back in time when I walked through the building. It was hard to believe the hotel shut down in 1991— only about fifteen years ago then. The plaster was falling from the ceiling and the rooms had years of dust and dirt, not to mention old wiring and plumbing.
The realtor emailed us later with information concerning the history of the hotel and the other businesses attached to the building downstairs. We learned surprising facts about the building. I sat at my blank computer screen with the cursor blinking, lost in daydreams about restoring the hotel and reopening it and what it was like many years ago.
A few months later, I planned on writing one story taking place at a hotel similar to the Southern. I wanted something out-of-the-ordinary, something that can’t happen in real life, but is written in a way that it sounds credible. The idea of time travel fascinates me, as well as the past, and thus were the plots for my new stories born.
Many facts about the fictional hotel are also true about the real one. There was, at one point, a restaurant and ballroom in the existing hotel. During World War II, those were converted into rooms. The real one still has a beauty salon, and so does the fictional one. The floor plans for both hotels are basically the same, except for the downstairs businesses. "Murder Mystery at the Hotel" is based on a rumor I heard that someone was murdered in the real hotel, and the inspiration for the fires in the stories came from the fact that the previous hotels burned.
--Stephanie Macomber - 2006
History of the Southern Hotel in Elizabeth City
Asa Rogerson opened the National Hotel in 1829. Four years later, in 1833, well-known and prosperous Perquimans County plantation owner James Leigh purchased the building and renamed it the "Mansion House." It was the center of town, and a popular place to host dances.
Sadly, in 1852, the structure burned down, along with several other downtown businesses. Elizabeth City purchased its first fire engine and built a building to house it because of this big fire. In 1856, a forty-bedroom hotel named the "Leigh House" opened in the old one’s place.
Assumptions were made that Confederates burned the Leigh House and several other important buildings to keep them from the Union after the North won the Battle of Elizabeth City. A. P. Cone, an investor from Wellsboro, PA, and W. H. Smith of Elizabeth City built another hotel on the same property in 1872. On February 20, 1873, the hotel hosted its grand-opening ball. It was one of the largest hotels in North Carolina at the time.
The original structure was a four-story brick stucco structure with two entrances, one from Road Street and the front entrance on Main Street. In 1902, Edwin F. Aydlet, an attorney/land developer, purchased the building and named it the Southern Hotel. Also, around this time, Wilbur Wright actually stayed in the hotel during his travels. Aydlet’s renovations in 1925 led to the renaming, the "New" Southern Hotel. The structure was remodeled with a brick-face exterior, but the original stucco is still visible from the back. The hotel had bathrooms, electricity, and an elevator put in (although I’m not sure it didn’t have electricity and plumbing before). The lobby has gorgeous black-and-white marble floors consisting of tiny squares. The entrance doors have beveled glass and fanlights. The lobby has a coffered ceiling supported with beautiful ionic columns and a front desk. The lobby staircase banister ends in curved scrolls. The lobby at one point had colonial-style chandeliers.
During the 1925 renovations, a parking garage, pressing room, gas station, and stores were constructed on the back of the hotel. During World War II, the ballroom on the second floor was split up to make it a 54-room hotel. A murder took place in the hotel back in the 1920s, although nobody we have talked to knows the whole story.
Melvin Wright and Levin Culpepper sold the hotel in 1991. The upper residential rooms have been closed and untouched since then. It’s rather sad how such a beautiful building could be let go so long. It would be nice if someone could buy it and fix it up to be just like it was a long time ago, and have it be profitable to keep it open. The days of marble floors and ballrooms in small-town hotels are long gone, as people want the convenience of a low-cost, technologically advanced motel when traveling.
When my family and I saw the hotel in July, 2005, it was on the real estate market for nearly a million dollars. Thursday, February 23, 2006, the hotel sold again.
--Stephanie Macomber - 2006
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book of stories to my parents for their continual support in my writing and historical research adventures, as well as for inspiring me to write and to love historical buildings and local history.
Also, for all those who have a vision—a dream—to do something great with their talents and to accomplish their dreams, not allowing anyone to stand in their way and say "you’ll never be able to do that!"
PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
It gives me great pleasure to present this book of stories for young people. Stephanie is my stepdaughter, and I had the opportunity to watch her grow into a writing talent at a very young age. Her imagination is bright, and her future even brighter. She is currently attending Columbia College in South Carolina and studying art. I'm certain this won't be the last we see of her writing, but I'm happy to present this early work – written when she was only in 9th grade – for the enjoyment of boys and girls everywhere.
--the Proud Publisher – David Niall Wilson
Mary Lou’s Gift
The fire blazed madly as the buffet went up in flames and charred velvet curtains burned on the blackened inlaid wood floors. People yelled and screamed, and all were in a crowd trying to pile through the only unblocked door. The stage, where the band had played only five minutes ago, was up in flames as well. The only fire engine in town roared down the street.
Then Mary Lou Peters woke up screaming.
Her mother ran into the room, curlers in hair and slippers flopping.
"I don’t know what all this is about, but every time I tried to get to sleep, the same dream continued."
"Well, what was it about, Hon," Mrs. Peters said as she sat down on the bed.
"It felt so real that I could smell the smoke and feel the heat from the flames. The hotel— it was on fire! This big, old-fashioned fire engine drawn by horses stood in front of it, and ladies in big dresses ran out of the place. There were a few people on the fourth floor. They were stuck. The fire started somehow, but I don’t know where and when. It was so strange."
Mary Lou’s mother walked all the way downstairs and returned with a glass of milk for her daughter.
Mary Lou was thirsty and drank fast. "Hopefully tomorrow will be better than my dreams," she said as she set the empty glass on her nightstand.
She had a continuing dream of the big fire. It was put out, but the hotel stood vacant for many months. The owner had left Asheville, Maryland, and the state put the damaged building up for sale; someone bought it again months later. Her dream ended at that when her alarm clock banged across the night table.
"Time for morning chores again," Mary Lou yawned as she stopped the alarm clock. She put her pink floral jumper over her white Peter Pan collar shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands of brown hair framing each side of her freckled face. She put an apron on over her school clothing and started to work.
Laundry took five days a week, sometimes more if the hotel had many visitors. There were four washing machines in the basement and several clotheslines strung between poles in the small, fenced-in backyard. Mary Lou did not really complain, but washing was such a monotonous job that it sometimes got to be boring. Most of the time, there were delicate clothes to wash and ironing to be done, so her job was not always easy.
She tossed her apron on one of the washing machines and came inside for breakfast. The family never needed to cook. The cooks made their meals and they ate in the restaurant. Each day there was a special for breakfast and supper. One of the cooks would always make lunch for Mary Lou to eat after she finished her morning lessons. The hotel was run so smoothly. Mary Lou thought about her odd dreams on her way to breakfast, and she prayed that the hotel would never catch fire.
~ * ~
As she pulled clothes off the lines later that day, Mary Lou realized something odd about her dreams. The women were wearing large dresses, as if they were at a formal occasion, such as a ball, but the dresses had puffed sleeves and bows. The fire engine was drawn by horses. Her dream was no worry about the hotel now, because the fire happened long ago in the past.
The current year was nineteen fifty-one. The fire happened in the early nineteen hundreds, judging by the ladies’ clothing styles. Mary Lou wondered if this dream was telling her something about the hotel’s past.
She decided to go upstairs and talk to her father about the hotel. He ought to know the history, and maybe something about the fire.
"Papa, what do you know about the hotel? I know it was built in 1885, because there’s the date carved in one of the corner blocks. But that’s all I know," Mary Lou said as she walked across the lobby to the front desk, each step echoing throughout the large, quiet space.
"Well, I do know there were quite a few balls and parties held here. Some famous people have stayed here in the past. People famous in this immediate area, that is. This is a small town, after all.
"Although, I do remember quite a few years ago when I bought the hotel, we were doing a little pre-opening maintenance. We, umm, updated the upstairs a little. We wanted it different, since there are all those suites up there, we wanted the ballroom and suite level of the building a little— fancier."
"Thank you, Papa, that was helpful," she replied.
"I’m glad you’re appreciating the history around you, Mary Lou. Sorry, but that’s all I know. Events were held here, but mostly travelers stayed. Maybe a few of us ‘old folks,’" Mary Lou’s dad joked, "remember it when the last owner lived here. That was about thirty-five years ago," Mr. Peters said as he nervously flipped through pages of the phone book.
Mary Lou went to her room to find a composition notebook. She decided to document things having to do with her strange dream.
I think the fire was a vision of some sort, and not a scary dream at all. Papa never mentioned any fire. For some reason, I get the feeling he is keeping me from knowing about the fire. I’m fifteen, and I won’t be scared if he tells me what happened. — October 25, 1951
~ * ~
Mary Lou looked over to her clock. It was six-thirty, time for supper. She put her journal away and brushed her hair before heading down to the dining room for supper. She locked her bedroom door and walked down the first flight of stairs.
The lights were not turned on, so the stairway was rather dark. At the base of the stairs, Mary Lou reached for the light switch out of habit, but it was not there. The wallpaper was different, and there was a green runner down the center of the hallway. In the space between every other door were lamps flickering their weak gas flames, casting a soft glow to the hall.
Mary Lou heard music playing downstairs. This confused her, since as far as she knew, the hotel wasn’t booked for any special occasion. It clearly sounded live, rather than someone with their radio too loud.
The bellman pulled a cart full of luggage out of the cargo elevator. There were several fancy trunks stacked high. Mary Lou stepped up a few steps, afraid the man might see her, and watched as he opened the hotel room door. Inside, the first thing Mary Lou saw was a dark wood armoire and green draperies. She had been in every room of the hotel several times, and did not remember the green décor.
What in the world is going on here? Everything looks different, she thought.
"That bellman doesn’t look like anyone we have working here," she whispered to herself as she watched him lugging the heavy trunks into the room. She looked up at the lights, to the fancy trunks, and toward a woman walking down the hallway. This is not the nineteen fifties. Nobody would ever wear a dress like that! I’m going insane— my dreams have made me mad— now I think I’m seeing the hotel back in time before the fire or something.
"Excuse me, Miss, but what time is it? I don’t see a clock." Mary Lou said to a woman in the hall. The woman just walked past, almost as if she never even saw Mary Lou.
"Excuse me! Hey!" The woman still did not notice and disappeared down the stairs. Mary Lou followed her, but gave up so she could further explore the hotel.
People in large ball dresses and formal suits with bow ties wandered the halls and walked up and down the stairs, probably the visitors just coming for the occasion. Mary Lou saw the velvet curtains and silk rugs inside one of the other open rooms. The door was open as another bellman brought luggage up for the new visitors. It seemed quite fancier than the last room.
Mary Lou wandered to the ballroom to see what the occasion was, now that she knew nobody could see her. The ballroom was different, too. There was a small stage, just as it was in the present, but there were red stage curtains and valances. Large Grecian columns supported the center of the room. There were five gas chandeliers of the Colonial style, with small strands of crystal going from the center to the candle stands. A few wood chairs with upholstered backs and seats in red lined the walls. Cherry-stained chair rail lined the room, and floor-to-ceiling red wallpaper with small gold pinstripes covered the walls. There were several large paintings. On either wall were buffets covered in delectable and decorated foods. For a small town hotel, the ballroom was rather fancy.
The band began to play again and everyone started dancing. It was like a scene in a fairytale book. Mary Lou stood in wonder and watched the elegant ladies spin. The skirts looked like giant fabric bells and they danced so gracefully.
On the eastern side of the room near the buffet, Mary Lou noticed a man trying to get some more food and drink. He seemed to be drunk, since he staggered about.
Then suddenly the man bumped into the tables, causing the stacked food and a candle to fall and alcoholic drinks to spill. He tried to clean up the drinks as much as he could with his handkerchiefs and managed to knock over more candles. He appeared to have drunk far too much that day, as he staggered about trying to clean up his mess. The whiskey continued the fire and caught the whole table on fire. The spilled whiskey on the floor made the fire travel the short distance to the draperies. Women screamed in horror and the band stopped playing.
The man, staggering, ran out of the ballroom.
"Help! Somebody call the fire department!" One woman cried. Another attempted to run to the telephone, but people trying to escape blocked the doorway. At this time, the curtain swags were on fire, all the way at the ceiling.
Mary Lou stood stock-still and could not believe she was living her dream! "I’m somehow going back in time, so maybe the hotel won’t burn if I stop the fire now," she said as she spotted a second punch bowl. "I— I can’t do it. There’s no way to stop the fire!" She panicked. She could feel the coolness of the punch bowl, but just could not move it. It was too late anyway. All she could do was watch.
The people escaped fast, and Mary Lou heard sirens down the street. She ran out of the building and saw the firefighters pumping water as fast as they could. She scanned the crowd for the drunken man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Mary Lou walked through the building after the firefighters and crowd left. She saw the blackened wallpaper and smoke-damaged ceilings. It was dark inside, with only the neighboring buildings and the moon casting glows through the spooky building. The ballroom was in complete ruins. The beautiful inlaid wood floors were blackened and charred. The band managed to save only a few of the instruments, and the rest were melted and deformed. The hotel rooms were all safe, but the hallway carpet was destroyed.
She took time to examine the lobby. It looked just as it was in the present, only with a few different pieces of furniture and the lamps were not yet electrified. Most everything was just the same. There was no sprinkler system, obviously, or the fire would have been extinguished almost as soon as it had started.
In the basement, it was even darker. The boiler for the radiators was in the same room. There were gas pipes for the kitchen stoves and lights. The building just lacked plumbing and electricity.
She walked upstairs. The hotel had been abandoned and boarded up. She heard the front door opening, and the drunken man who had started the fire entered, carrying a real estate sign with a "sold" banner under one arm.
Mary Lou watched the man as he walked around the lobby. She wondered if it was really an accident, or if he purposely set the ballroom in flames so he could buy the hotel, and have everyone think it was all an accident.
She followed the man as he toured the hotel, until he stopped at the charred ballroom. He seemed very sad. He set his lantern on the floor and picked up a water-damaged and wrinkled program for the "Southern Hotel’s 30th Anniversary Ball." Mary Lou stood behind him to read the program. On the front, there was a picture of the hotel before the fire. The man looked about the room. Mary Lou noticed tears forming in his eyes.
The man carefully folded his paper and put it in his jacket pocket. He turned around and Mary Lou saw his face. His face looked familiar, as if she had seen him in a photograph before, but she couldn’t quite figure out who he was.
He wandered out of the room. Mary Lou watched him as he left, still trying to remember where she had seen his familiar face. She had a flashback from when she was a little girl sitting in her parents’ room, looking at all the picture albums while her parents did various jobs all day. She saw several pictures when her dad was a young man, and those images matched the man’s face.
She left the charred mess to follow her past young father. She heard him slam a large book down on a desk and went in the direction of her parents’ suite. She opened the door and appeared in the present time. Her father sat at his desk in the office half of his suite. He looked through his photograph album. He also had a framed object in his hands.
She walked around the desk and stood next to her father, who was holding a framed 1915 hotel program. "Papa, I know the big family secret— I know about the fire. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?"
Papa looked up surprised and set the picture down on top of the album. "I didn’t want anyone to know. I was ashamed of myself for being such a foolish drunk, back in the day. I regret every second of it, and wish I could reverse time and change everything," he paused and sighed. "I bought the hotel after it burned, feeling awful for what I did. I paid what it would have been worth before the fire. I’ve kept it nearly the same because any change would have reminded me of the fire. They thought I was insane to pay so much, but I wanted to make it up to them, but just couldn’t tell them why."
Mary Lou looked into her father’s eyes. "You didn’t do it on purpose. Anyone could have knocked over a candle and set the place in flames."
"That’s not the point. I started it because I was drunk. My girlfriend left me two days before the ball and I thought drinking was a good way of getting away from everything. I drank too much before the dance and ruined the night for everyone, especially those poor people sleeping on the top floor. They barely made it out alive, and they weren’t allowed to retrieve anything left in the building for days."
"Does Mama know?" she asked.
"Oh, of course. Married people never keep anything from one another, even if it was their past," he looked down at the framed program. "I didn’t want you to know. I wanted the incident to be forgiven and forgotten. I really didn’t want anyone to know."
"We all learn from past mistakes. Without mistakes, we wouldn’t learn anything," Mary Lou said as she hugged her father.
Papa thought about his daughter’s words. "I’ve certainly learned from mine, and haven’t drunk a drop of anything alcoholic since that night. How did you find out about this to begin with?"
"I doubt if you would believe me if I told you, anyway," she said. "You know what they always say, ‘Everything happens for a reason.’ Let’s go down for supper. I think I smell steak!" she said as she sniffed the air.
Mary Lou’s father left the room. She stayed behind for a second to examine the hotel photograph on the program. She glanced up and thought for a moment. She looked toward the door just long enough that she thought she saw her father-from-the-past smile at her, then disappear.
Hattie
"I finished writing the invitations for the Confectionery Convention," Papa said. "Candy makers from all over Maryland are coming here. Mary Lou, would you please deliver these invitations to the Post Office? I gave you an extra dime so you can get an ice cream float at the drugstore. Be back by two."
Mary Lou walked to the old post office with large, towering columns. She said good morning to the post office clerk, paid for the postage, and was on her way to the drugstore for an ice cream float.
Because her parents owned the hotel, she knew nearly every shopkeeper, doctor, and neighbor in the immediate area, and it was a good feeling to walk into a store and know these people like your own relatives.
"Was it time to deliver invitations again?" Mr. James, the man behind the counter asked as he fixed a root beer float. He knew that Mary Lou always came in for ice cream after mailing something.
"Yep. This time it’s the Confectionery Convention. That one is always my favorite because all the candy makers give me free candy!" Although Mary Lou was fifteen, the simplest pleasures of a child still excited her.
"I can just imagine that ballroom filled with tables covered in sweets. I bet when you were young you got more candy than any kid ever does on Halloween."
"Not quite, Mr. James," Mary Lou said laughing. "My parents made sure I was there, greeting people, and not eating the food. Most of them would give me candy anyway. You’d think that there would be the same people every year, but usually half of them are new. Usually there are so many that the other hotel in town is nearly full. A lot of people who aren’t candy makers come to the convention, too," she said. She finished her ice cream float and handed the empty glass to Mr. James.
"Have a nice day, Mary Lou," Mr. James said as he cleaned the tall glass. Mary Lou spun the red stool around and jumped off. She was so excited about the Confectionery Convention, although it wasn’t until November 17.
~ * ~
It was the Saturday before the convention, and already the hotel had started checking in the people. Many of them had several samples of candies from their shops. Taxicabs and buses kept bringing people in from the train station. The cooks were well prepared, and so were the maids. Conventions, parties, weddings, and balls were common at the Southern Hotel. Mary Lou worked in the hotel laundry, and she washed more clothing and sheets than ever when there was such an event.
She was carrying a large pile of towels up the stairs to the second floor when she bumped into a boy wearing what looked to be a school uniform. The neatly folded towels lay scattered in front of the stairs.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming. You need to carry smaller stacks of towels up the stairs, but it’s my fault I didn’t see you. Let me help you." The boy was about five inches taller than Mary Lou was, and about her age. He hurried about picking up the towels and cramming them into little balls.
"Thank you, but I don’t think that’s how you fold a towel," Mary Lou chuckled.
"I’m sort of in a hurry. I need to help my parents carry in the luggage," the boy said. "By the way, my name is Robby Phillips. Some of my family calls me Robert, but my friends and parents say Robby."
"I’m Mary Lou. My parents own the hotel and laundry is my job here. You don’t have to carry luggage up. The bellman does that. In fact, here he comes now," she said as she heard the freight elevator. "Here are some towels for your room," she said hurriedly and handed him a stack of crumpled towels.
She watched her new acquaintance disappear into his family’s suite and started refolding the towels by the stairs.
~ * ~
Mary Lou was very tired when she finally got to sleep at ten o’ clock. She had a strange dream. She woke up once and sat straight up in bed, puzzled. "It’s another vision—" she whispered, and her voice trailed.
Her dream vision was more of a flashback for her. She was about five years old and sat on her parents’ desk reading Little Golden Books, when a girl wearing a green taffeta party dress, patent leather shoes, and blonde spiral curls skipped down the hallway. She looked up and waited to see the fancily dressed little girl pass again. "A tisket, a tasket, a golden yellow basket…" the girl sang. She stopped in front of the opened door and peered in.
"Hi!" she said. "I’m Hattie and I’m six. I’m dressed for tea and the ball today. Daddy says he’ll dance with me," she said as she spun around.
"I’m Mary Lou, and I’m five. I can read, count, add, and fold my laundry. You seem to know a lot of stuff, if you can dress up, go to tea, and dance." Mary Lou put her book down and excitedly followed the little girl down the hallway singing nursery rhymes.
She played with Hattie a long time, and thought Hattie was a guest at the hotel. She thought Hattie’s parents were staying for an extended visit, because for the next two weeks or so, Hattie played with Mary Lou daily. Then one day Hattie stopped coming to play with her. She was nowhere to be seen. Nobody checked in or out of the hotel. Hattie just disappeared.
"Mama, where’s my friend Hattie? She wears a green dress, has blonde hair, and she stayed here a long time." Mary Lou’s mother claimed that she never saw the girl described.
"I didn’t know you had a friend, Mary Lou. I think Hattie is just a figment of your big imagination." The dream ended with Mama telling Mary Lou about "imaginary friends." She went back to sleep and didn’t have another dream.
~ * ~
The next morning, Mary Lou woke up and did her lessons. She had six subjects she studied, and Mama was a very good teacher. By noon, her lessons were done and she did as she wished.
She wanted to see Robby again. He seemed nice, and she wanted to get to know him. Today was the perfect day, since he mostly sat in the lobby listening to the big stereo and reading.
"Hi, I’m Mary Lou, remember me?" she said as she pulled the book down from his face.
"You don’t just walk up to people and make them lose their place when they’re reading a good book," Robby said, irritated. He lifted the book and tried to find his place again.
"Sorry about that. I guess I did finish the chapter," he apologized and shut the book.
"So, are your folks into the candy-making business?" she asked as she sat down in a chair.
"Yes, my dad owns two large factories in Baltimore. This is the first time we have had the time to come here. Usually I’m in a spelling bee, or writing an important essay, or it is scheduled during the baseball tournament at school."
"Fascinating. I can tell you like to read and sound very studious. I am home-schooled and do well academically. I don’t play sports, though. Papa and I sometimes throw the baseball, or the three of us play badminton. When I grow up I am going to take over the hotel and keep it the same, just the way my folks did," Mary Lou said.
"I’m guessing you just explained your life in a nutshell. Yes, I’ve heard about this place. Everyone talks about how it’s been the same for the last fifty years. I was a bit skeptical and wanted to see for myself, and I love how everything is old-fashioned. A relative of mine stayed here way back, and it looks almost the same as he described it," Robby said.
"Yeah, I love it here. By the way, I’m hungry, aren’t you? The cooks always make an excellent lunch. Come join my parents and me. I think you all need to be introduced," Mary Lou said.
"You know what?" she asked.
"Hmm," mumbled Robby as he turned the radio off.
"You would be the first friend I’ve had my age," Mary Lou paused, "well, since Hattie," she mumbled.
"Really? You’re very friendly. I’m surprised you haven’t had more friends your age. Who was Hattie?"
"I don’t know. When I was five she just appeared. She was probably just an imaginary friend, just as Mama said," Mary Lou laughed. "Yeah, I know, that sounds really weird. Anyway, maybe after lunch I can show you around town and tell you more about Hattie.”
"That sounds like fun," Robby said.
"I don’t go to a regular school, and I’ve never had the chance to become good friends with visitors, because they usually left within a week of arriving, so I don’t have any friends who aren’t adults. All of my parents’ friends have full-grown children. Just thought you’d like to know. By the way, I don’t have imaginary friends anymore in case you were thinking that."
Robby laughed. "No, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your imaginary friends," he joked.
Mary Lou asked her parents if they would mind if Robby and his family ate lunch with them. They approved and the two families met in the center table of the restaurant.
Mary Lou’s parents enjoyed Robby’s company, but at first thought his mother was a little stuck-up. His father was a short, fat man and laughed loudly. Robby seemed very little like his parents. He was quiet, studious, and seemed like a normal boy. His parents were both rather talkative, and tended to over-explain things, which added to their talkativeness.
"I see my little Mary Lou has her first friend! Oh this is so exciting," Mary Lou’s mother said as they walked out of the restaurant. Mary Lou smiled, a little embarrassed at her mother’s remark, which further made her think about her imaginary friend conversation. Her father found the camera in the front desk and took a picture of his daughter and Robby.
"I’ll make sure to get this in color and frame it in a huge print right here in the lobby," Papa joked as he pointed to a photograph of the hotel above the front desk. "Have a good time. Tell everyone I said good afternoon."
Embarrassed Mary Lou waved good-bye to the parents. Now I know why I don’t have any friends my age, she thought.
"Tell me about Hattie," Robby said as he and Mary Lou walked toward the drugstore. "You make her sound like she was very special to you when you were younger."
Oh great, he’s mocking me! "Hattie was an energetic little girl who always seemed to be alone, skipping down the halls or hiding behind doors. She always wore a green party dress, and her hair was in neat corkscrew curls. She was usually alone, like me, and was rarely around other adults. She only wanted me as her friend. Recently I had a strange dream about her. I would also hear her skipping up and down the halls occasionally," Mary Lou explained.
She stopped to think for a moment. "In fact, it was about once a year after that, that I would see her. It’s almost as if I never grew out of having an imaginary friend. I guess that’s what you get for being lonely and studying all the time— your brain starts imagining people there who are not," Mary Lou joked. "Maybe we were right about my ‘imaginary friend’ theory."
"Do you remember what time of year it was?" Robby asked.
"Let me see, it was around the time of— of— the Confectionery Convention!" she shouted. "I was so excited and invited Hattie to go with me every year, but I never saw her there."
"That’s because she’s a ghost. The way you’re describing her, she’s a ghost."
"What? No way! There’s no such thing. That’s just something people made up for movies and books— like vampires and dragons— not real."
"Say what you want, Mary Lou, but I’ve seen them before. They look and act just like real people, but tend to keep away from them so they or the people aren’t frightened. Usually they just wander. Hattie is the rare kind that will actually talk and play with other people. Maybe that’s because she’s a child. Only six, you say? Well, you will probably see less and less of her as you get older. Your parents never saw her, so they called her your imaginary friend."
"That makes sense. I haven’t seen her in about three years, I think. She hid in the laundry basket one morning and scared me for fun. Then she ran down the halls and never came back again."
"I’m thirsty. Want a soda? I have some money," Robby asked.
"Yes, please. Mr. James makes the best root beer floats. They’re only a dime," Mary Lou said as they walked into the drugstore.
"I hope I can meet Hattie. We need to watch for signs of her. You never know what ghosts can do," Robby said as the two climbed onto the red stools.
"You kids and your phony ghost stories. You actually believe in those things? Back when I was young, they were just things we said to scare our siblings," Mr. James said. "So what do you want today?"
"May we have two root beer floats, please?" Mary Lou asked.
The two finished their floats and returned to the hotel. Mary Lou started interrogating her father after he checked in some new visitors.
"Papa, who was the very first owner of this hotel?" she asked.
"Mary Lou, go upstairs in my suite and in the left drawer of my typewriter desk is a bunch of papers I’ve collected over the years about the hotel. One is a copy of a census I asked for while I was at the courthouse. It has information about the man, his occupation, and the land he owned."
"Thanks Papa," Mary Lou said. She always thought of her father as a packrat, and now she was very glad he was. He had been researching information about the hotel ever since he’d bought it, and had quite the collection of documents.
Robby followed Mary Lou upstairs. Mama was in the suite using the typewriter. "Papa said we could look through the left drawer. I’m doing some more research about the hotel, this time back before the fire," Mary Lou said.
She found the census underneath drawings she did for her parents when she was little, old brochures about the town, and various flyers. Her mother, sitting in the chair next to Mary Lou, glanced over and caught sight of the first drawing in the stack.
"Oh, I remember Hattie. She was your imaginary friend when you were little," her mother said.
Mary Lou noticed the poorly drawn little girl with a green dress. "Do you mind if I have this drawing?"
"Sure, it’s yours. She was your imaginary friend when you were five. I remember all the stories you told me about your ‘day playing with Hattie.’"
Mama continued typing. The census mentioned that Isaac Edwards was a prominent owner of a successful hotel in Asheville, Maryland. He had a wife and four kids— James, Isaac Jr., Katherine, and Hattie. This census was taken in 1890, and the property was worth ten thousand dollars.
"Wow, this is interesting. Mama, this man had a daughter named Hattie, just like the girl I played with when I was younger. See, I’ll prove it to you." Mary Lou spoke in an "I-told-you-so" type of voice as she put the paper down over the typewriter keys.
"That’s very interesting. When you were young, we found out that the little girl died in this hotel. I think you heard us talking and started imagining her to be your friend. This was when you were very young, Mary Lou, so you may be just thinking that she was real."
"She could have been a ghost." Robby spoke up after sitting unnoticed in the room.
Mama laughed. "No, they are just things in cartoons and movies people made up. It’s impossible. When you die, you go to heaven or hell. There’s no mention that people live on earth as spirits when they die."
"Well, I believe that they can come back to earth when they want. Maybe they have family here they love and can’t leave," Mary Lou said.
"All right, I won’t be mad at you for what you believe. I was just trying to tell you that your memory may be a little fuzzy— she could have just been a realistic imaginary friend."
~ * ~
While Mary Lou was dressing the next morning, she heard a scream from downstairs. She finished dressing quickly, not bothering with her snarled hair, and ran to the screaming woman’s room. "Mrs. Phillips, are you all right! It’s me— Mary Lou. I heard you—" Mrs. Phillips, Robby’s mother, opened the door before Mary Lou finished her statement.
"There’s a little girl in here trying on my clothes. She has gone through all my trunks and is wearing all my furs, shoes, hats— everything! It’s scattered about the whole room!" Mary Lou peeked in and saw blonde curls beneath a red hat.
"Hattie!" Mary Lou yelled in excitement. The frightened little girl flung the clothes on the floor and ran behind the door.
"You know this child? Then please return her to her parents. I have no idea how she got in here, since I latched the doors. But please tell her not to disturb me, or anyone else in this hotel, especially before eight AM!"
Robby came out of his room of the suite. "What are you yelling about?" he asked.
"Hattie— that little girl over there— sneaked into my room and was trying on my clothes!" Mrs. Phillips yelled.
"What! Where is she?" he asked.
Mary Lou turned around and saw the little girl skip down the hallway singing "Jack and Jill."
"Follow her!" Mary Lou said frantically. Mrs. Phillips abruptly shut the bedroom door as Mary Lou and Robby ran down the hallway after the little girl into her parents’ suite. The suite doors were left open, nobody was inside, and the same Little Golden Books that Mary Lou read as a child were laid upon the typewriter desk.
"I can read your books. See! ‘Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, eating his Christmas pie. He put in his thumb, pulled out a plum and said ‘What a good boy am I!’" she annunciated each word. "I can read just like you can."
"Why do you come back to visit me every year? How come you never stay in the hotel any other time?" Mary Lou was so excited she sounded almost angry. "Please, tell me, Hattie, this is so confusing how you keep reappearing every so often and then disappearing without telling anyone."
"Mary Lou, what do you mean disappear? I’ve been in this hotel every day and never go anywhere. I stayed the same age for some reason and never grow up. I’m just like Peter Pan in your other storybook."
Oh my goodness! This little girl doesn’t realize she has died! She still thinks that she lives in the hotel.
"Hattie, I’m Robby, Mary Lou’s friend. How come we can see you, but Mary Lou’s mom and dad can’t?"
"I don’t know. I want to see them. I’ve never met your Mama and Papa, Mary Lou. But I know I see them, sometimes. Lead me to them. My parents always said ‘Children should be seen and not heard,’ so I listened." She held both Robby and Mary Lou’s hands and skipped down the hallway.
Downstairs in the restaurant, Mary Lou’s parents were eating breakfast. Her father looked up from his morning paper.
Mary Lou looked over and made sure Hattie was still sitting next to her. "This is Hattie. Hattie, do you mind introducing yourself to my folks."
"Mary Lou, I’m tired of your playing tricks on us. Cut it out, now! You are too old for this foolishness," her mother scolded.
Just at that moment, Mrs. Phillips briskly walked over to the table, with her high heels clicking. "You need a better lock system on these rooms! This morning I found a little girl rummaging through my clothing and wearing it. I want to know who her parents are. She has blonde curls, a pudgy face, and— she’s sitting next to my son!"
"Told you so, Mama. Hattie is real. See, Mrs. Phillips can see her," Mary Lou whispered.
"This is an awkward moment, Mrs. Phillips, but for some reason I cannot see any curly headed girls here."
"What! Are you blind, Mrs. Peters? The girl is sitting right across from you! Now— now she’s running away and crying. Oh no, I’ve said something to make her upset. Let’s go after her," Mrs. Philips tried running in her straight skirt and heels, but could not make haste fast enough. Mary Lou and Robby both chased after Hattie. The adults lost interest when they came to the stairs. They stood in the lobby arguing over what they’d just seen.
"Hattie, wait! I know what’s wrong. Just let me talk to you," Mary Lou called after Hattie. She and Robby followed Hattie into Mary Lou’s parents’ suite.
"This used to be my room, Mary Lou! Everything is changed. Almost nobody can see me. Why? Why did I never grow up? Why am I still a little girl and everything is strange?"
"This is going to be hard to explain, but you died in 1892. I don’t know how, but you did. You switch between the afterlife and the mortal world every year around the time of the Convention. I get the odd feeling that you watched over your family as long as they owned this place, and sometimes continue to watch over anyone living here," Mary Lou explained.
"But why can you see me, but your Mommy can’t?" she asked, still crying.
"I think only people who believe in ghosts can see them," Robby bluntly said.
"Do you remember what happened?" Mary Lou asked as she stood up. The three started toward the partially opened door.
The hotel looked different now— just like it did when Mary Lou traveled back before her father caught the place on fire. This time Hattie and Robby were there with her.
"Mary Lou, how can I see myself? Look, I’m running down the hallway carrying my new shoes with green bows!" Hattie yelled, half-surprised, and half-excited.
A woman dressed in a pink dress with a high collar and bustle walked up to Hattie-of-the-past. "Mommy, I need you to put on my shoes. I can’t tie my shoes yet." Hattie’s mother knelt and tied her daughter’s shoes.
"I’ll be downstairs in a minute. I just have to get my gloves." She walked down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms.
Hattie leaned over the handrails and tried to hear the people just coming in the hotel. She held onto the handrail attached to the wall and leaned forward into the stairwell to hear better. Suddenly, she slipped and tumbled right down the stairs. Everyone below heard the crash.
Her mother rushed out of the room, ran down the stairs, and started to sob. She knelt next to her daughter’s body. The little girl lay dead still on the first floor. "What have I done! I left her only for a minute so I could grab my gloves— and—" she continued to cry.
All three children were silent at the sight of the girl, who apparently broke her neck during the fall. Mary Lou, Robby, and Hattie walked downstairs and appeared further into the future, apparently just after Hattie’s funeral. They followed the darkly-clothed family upstairs again and into the nursery suite, where Hattie, her siblings, and the nanny slept. The mother folded all of Hattie’s clothing.
"This is the pillow I helped her embroider— it was her first sampler." Hattie’s mother continued to cry. The children sat on the bed watching with large fear-filled eyes. The eldest held a doll that had belonged to Hattie.
Mary Lou led her friends out of the room and downstairs. This time Hattie’s family each carried something and they were walking toward the kitchen area of the house. Mary Lou, Robby, and Hattie followed into the kitchen, and in the pantry was a shallow cedar pit with a heavy hatch. The family put Hattie’s green taffeta dress, pantaloons, shoes, toys, books, and the sampler pillow in the floor. The father had a framed portrait, a small album with baby pictures, a family picture, and the newspaper with the information about the "Tragic Death to the Southern Hotel Owner’s Daughter" in his arms. He laid them on top and closed the hatch. It blended in with the ceramic tile flooring and looked no different from the rest of the floor.
"This is our memorial to Hattie, who died November 17, 1892. Forever shall her favorite things— the things we remember the happy times with Hattie— remain in the hotel." Everyone started crying.
They followed Hattie’s father back to the lobby; he had sold the hotel.
The children were awestruck, Hattie especially. Mary Lou led them out of that room and back to the present.
"Mary Lou, this really happened to me? How come I don’t remember it?" Hattie asked in a quiet voice.
"I don’t know. You seemed very alive to me when I was little— just like a living person. You talked, ran, and played lots of games with me. My parents could never see you because they didn’t believe in ghosts, I assume. You were the only friend I really had for the longest time."
"I want to find my old stuff. Will you show me to the pantry?"
Mary Lou walked through the lobby to the restaurant. It was filled with people still eating their lunch. Nobody paid much attention to Hattie, whether they could see her or not. The kids walked into the kitchen where the two cooks and the waiters were busily trying to get the orders straight and make the food as fast as possible. On the far right of the kitchen was the pantry.
"Mary Lou, what do you think you’re doing? We’re trying to hurry through lunch and here you come wandering in here with guests clearing the cupboards and emptying the pantry," the cook joked. "Don’t eat too much food before the Confectionery Convention. You won’t have much of an appetite to try a slice of my new recipe, chocolate sundae cake."
"Oh, don’t worry. I don’t eat that much." She hurried into the pantry. It had bare light bulbs dangling from the ceiling, shelves in every possible place, and food on the shelves and the floor. The pantry was filled to feed all the guests for the convention.
Mary Lou carefully examined the floor. "I can’t tell where the hatch is."
"Think about when we traveled back in time— which was very weird, by the way— and think about where the hatch was," Robby said.
Mary Lou found a knife and used it to lift the front of the hatch. "Robby, Hattie, please help me with this." They slid their fingers under each side and pulled up the black-and-white tiles. There was wood flooring on the underside of the tiles.
The pit had a second lid, this time with a lock. "How will we ever find the key?" Hattie wailed.
"Wait a second— Hattie, where did you spend the most time? Your bedroom, most likely. They probably hid the key somewhere in your room," Robby said. The kids left, confusing the cooks very much, and walked upstairs.
"Robby, why are you leading us on this wild goose chase, anyway?" Mary Lou asked, annoyed. He ignored her as they walked to Hattie’s old room.
"The nursery suite was Mary Lou’s parents’ room. The girls and Nanny had lived in what is now your parents’ bedroom. The library half was the boys’ room. The rooms changed. Now there’s a water closet in place of my sister’s bed," Hattie said.
"Hattie, we had to add bathrooms to the hotel when the town got water lines. I would think that the key would be closer to your half of the room, anyway," Mary Lou said.
Hattie examined the room. The walls were covered in dark green wallpaper with old-fashioned, blue flower prints. The bed had an overstuffed down comforter with a green duvet cover. Dark wood furniture filled the once-childlike room. "I used to always look out this window. I could see all the carriages below! There used to be a big maple tree, bigger than any maple I had ever seen."
Mary Lou examined the window. "This lock— it’s— it’s different. I’m going to find a screwdriver," Mary Lou said as she ran out of the room. She was gone awhile and came back with a screwdriver.
"Mary Lou, what are you doing?" Robby asked.
"Hattie loved this window. Now I remember hearing about how some people claimed to see a curly-headed child standing in front of it. The key must be hidden under this green lock," she said as she started pulling screws out. The lock was the same green as the rest of the room. On the other side, as Mary Lou found when she removed it from the window, were the initials H. M. E. crudely carved into the brass.
"Oh my goodness— I was right! I solved the mystery of the hidden key." Mary Lou slid the lock and screws into her jeans pocket and walked hurriedly to the kitchen.
"Well, you know you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my ‘wild goose chase’ of an idea," Robby joked.
The children pried open the floor and unlocked the sealed hatch.
"Go get my parents, Robby, and yours too. Hurry!" Just as in the vision, Hattie’s belongings were in the floor.
"My sampler pillow, my dress, my— my newspaper?" Hattie said as Mary Lou took out each thing. Mary Lou carefully picked up the old newspaper and showed it to the confused child.
"I’ll read it out loud to you, Hattie. There are some big words here. Look— here’s a drawing of the hotel, too." The obituary entitled "Tragic Death of Southern Hotel Owner Isaac Edwards’s Daughter" read:
November 17, 1892, was the tragic death of prosperous hotel owner Isaac Edwards’s youngest child. It was the night of the annual Confectionery Convention. Edwards says his daughter was skipping down the hall in her new party shoes and dress, but wanted to hear the guests entering the lobby from upstairs. Mrs. Isaac Edwards went to grab her hat and gloves when her little girl leaned too far into the stairwell and tumbled to her crashing death on the first floor.
Miss Hattie Marie Edwards was six years old. She loved nursery rhymes and could read quite well for such a young age. Her siblings were all older and picked on her sometimes, but adored her and taught her all they knew. She sang Christmas songs at the churches and orphanages in Baltimore, and has met many famous folks in her short life. Dear Hattie will never be forgotten.
Her parents were devastated and sold the hotel to Mr. Henry Quincy. They did not want to stay where their youngest died. Rumor has it that all of Hattie’s favorite belongings are sealed up in the hotel as some sort of special memorial for the young child.
The funeral was a small one, taking place at the Asheville Methodist Church. Miss Edwards is buried in the local cemetery near various ancestors on her father’s side of the family.
November 20, 1892
Mary Lou’s parents stopped at the pantry door. They saw the little sampler pillow, the dress, the shoes, and the family photograph— everything— in the floor. They did not see Hattie, though.
"What’s the meaning of this, Mary Lou? How could you have possibly found all this old stuff?" her father said.
"See, I told you Hattie existed. Look, here’s the newspaper about her death. Mama, here’s the dress and shoes she wore. Here’s her sampler, teddy bear, and even some family pictures."
"Mary Lou is a good detective— she figured out where the key to the hatch was," Robby said.
"Yes, with Robby’s help. If you read the article, those letters stand for Hattie Marie Edwards. I’m trying to prove to you that Robby and I can really see her, Mama; Hattie really does exist!"
"Yes, she did exist. But she isn’t here now," Mama said.
"Yes, she is! She’s sitting right here and looking up at you. Why don’t you believe in her?" Mary Lou wailed.
"This is interesting, Mary Lou. I think we need to display the family pictures and the news article, and keep Hattie’s belongings in here as her parents wished," Papa said.
"That makes sense. Let’s put everything away. Hattie says she wants her stuff to stay in the hotel for a hundred thousand years," Mary Lou said.
"Well," Mama laughed, "I hope it stays here that long. I’m proud of you, Mary Lou. First you figured out the hotel fire, and now you are working on Hattie’s past. Soon, you’ll know every minute of every event that took place here. I still just don’t think it’s possible to see her spirit," Mama said. She paused to change the subject, "Let’s eat lunch now. It’s almost noon." Mary Lou and Robby put everything back in the secret compartment, after Papa photographed the news article and two of the pictures. Robby and Mary Lou’s families ate lunch together. Mary Lou set another chair at the end of the table for Hattie.
"I can’t believe the Confectionery Convention is tomorrow! I’ll help you finish setting up the ballroom, Papa."
"We always decorate the same way every year. I have everything in the basement. I’ll need to move the small stereo cabinet up there so we have continuous music. Every few minutes I’ll be turning records over or switching records," Papa said. "I just wish radio stations didn’t play those stupid commercials so often…" he mumbled to himself.
A lady walked by Mary Lou’s table and stopped. "Oh, what a pretty little girl you are with those bright golden curls— and such a pretty dress! What’s the occasion little Miss?" she asked.
"I don’t know," Hattie replied.
The lady looked up to the adults. "Which one of you are the parents of this little girl?" The lady continued smiling, waiting for a reply.
This was a problem. Both of Robby’s parents could see her. Mary Lou’s parents could not. They all knew Hattie was a ghost, or otherwise a figment of a few people’s imaginations.