The Gentleman in the Hall Chair – An Introduction to the Hotel

I met an old man at the even older hotel my husband and I bought last summer. I have not determined why he was there, or what sort of person he really is. He may have been just a visitor … but I think not. Not to such a place as this.

South side, with our private entrance. The vines at the back are extremely attractive in the summer - green and lush, and in the autumn, turn a burning red.

Will and I did not know much about the building yet, besides that it was in bad need of repair, and had been used for many things over the years, after it stopped being a hotel. The repairs were what we knew most about, as we had been hired by the previous owner to attempt to fix a leak in the flat roof … which had been leaking for years. This leak had been allowed to damage the floors on the east end, through all three levels. Even the cement floor in the basement was deteriorating somewhat from the long periods of staying wet.

It so happens that we did not get the leak stopped … but the owner was still pleased with the attempt, and has become one of our very good friends. We knew he wanted it fixed in order to sell the building. Our next-door neighbor wanted it, for storage I think … and because it was conveniently next to the house his wife lives in. (They spend a lot of time together, but refuse to live under the same roof.)

The price our friend quoted this neighbor was too high … on purpose. He wanted us to have it. We had only hinted at wanting it, and on the strength of this, he saved it for us.

The negotiations were short and sweet. We explained to him that we wanted to try to turn a nicer front section, which had been a laundromat, into a place for a youth group, and other ministries.

He liked this. We discussed several other, more business-oriented ideas as well, and struck a bargain almost immediately.

A few days later, Will and I went to look the place over more thoroughly. We had been upstairs, downstairs, and in m’lady’s chamber throughout the course of the roof repair, but not with an eye to detail.

The only light upstairs came from some flourescent tubes at the east end, and a drop-cord plugged into an extension cord. Otherwise, the outdated electrical system upstairs had been disabled.

The East end upstairs, with a tarp anchored at a slant to divert water from the leak into an already-damaged area.

Will and I tramped from room to room, peeking into corners, through holes in the floor, and among piles of Stuff, left over from a variety of lives. There was exercise equipment, tires, bags of clothes, and furniture. There were Christmas cards, lamps, a pile of trim for finishing rooms, and, at the West end of the hall, a wooden chair, with an old man in it.

This picture is recent. The chair has moved (how, or by whom, I won't venture to suggest).

He watched as I came down the hall toward him. With his hands crossed on his belly, he waited, and I wished I could see his eyes. They might have been light blue, and seemed cold. As I neared the first of two doors to the last room, which he faced, he said, “Stop.”

I did.

He said, “Come no further.”

I stared, not bothering to hide my surprise. Who was this stranger, who dared forbid me?

He didn’t bother to tell me who he was, or anything about himself. He merely went on, “Do not enter. In there is none of your business.”

We contemplated each other a moment, and I thought about disobeying him, but decided there was a reason he had forbidden me … and it was indeed none of my business. For one thing, how did I know who he knew, and what he knew? How could I be sure he had not warned me, in riddles, away from a rotten place in the floor, or a skunk? Anyway, since he had bothered to post himself there, in order to warn me away, I probably didn’t want to know what was in that last room.

I turned around and went back downstairs.

Since Then

I’ve thought quite a bit on the old gentleman in the chair. I’ve been back upstairs several times, too, and have never seen him more. Perhaps he’s still around … perhaps he has moved on to other places, times, or objectives.

Looking to the West, where the old man no longer is.

I’ve been in the room he warned me away from – entering with trepidation, at first. It is extraordinary, compared to the others. It is long, and was once richly furnished, with beautiful dark woodwork. It’s divided in two by half-walls ending in pillars, leaving a wide doorway between them, thus:

From near the doorway which the old man faced.

I could feel a liveliness in the air, like I was but one of several souls in there.

I’ve concluded, most likely, there was a meeting of spirits going on in the room, that day I met the old gentleman. I’ve run into snatches of a story concerning a network of highbow thieves, who may have met there. I have therefore designated it The Conference Room.

Perhaps some day it will get to be my business.

What will be there next time, do you suppose?

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