Read Online St. Patrick's Bed (Ashland, 3) by Terence M. Green - Free Book Online
Authors: Terence M. Green
Ads: Link
them."
"Did I hear you say 'fat chance' earlier?"
I took another sip of beer. I could feel her on the other end. Like I could reach out and touch her. Maybe, I thought, this is phone sex. Without the sex.
"How far are you from Dayton?"
"About two hours, I think. I'll be there before noon tomorrow." Another pause. "I'm right across from Bowling Green State University. It's enormous. I want to look at it a bit in the morning, before I go."
"I wish I were with you."
"You'd be bored."
"With you? Are you kidding? Have you forgotten my traveling bag, all those places, already?"
I was quiet. I hadn't forgotten. I could never forget.
MOUNT AIRY LODGE
"America's Leading Year 'Round Resort"
Mount Pocono, Pennsylvania
MOUNT AIRY LODGE has EVERYTHING!
Ultra-luxury accommodations featuring your own
PRIVATE SWIMMING POOL IN YOUR ROOM.
Heart-shaped Jacuzzi baths and more:
- Indoor and outdoor Olympic-sized heated
- Swimming Pools
- Fabulous Indoor Sports Palace
- Indoor and Outdoor Tennis Courts
- Horseback Riding • Health Club • Marina
- Boating and Sailing on Private Lake
- The "18 Best" P.G.A. Championship Golf Course
- All Winter Sports at our Spectacular Ski Area
- Gourmet Dining and ALWAYS Top-Name
- Entertainment
Write for a brochure:
MOUNT AIRY LODGE, Mount Pocono, PA
Nationwide TOLL-FREE Telephone: 1-800—
It had been four years earlier, in September—another trip four hundred miles or so. We were veterans of the Niagara Falls Romantic Getaway ("2-night package, Jacuzzi and fireplace suite, walking distance to the Falls"); Niagara was only ninety miles from home. In fact, my grandmother, Nanny, had gone there on her honeymoon with Bampi in 1904. They'd gone in a horse-drawn wagon, one week before her nineteenth birthday. Nanny was three months pregnant with my father.
But we wanted to crank it up a notch. And after Vegas, what was left?
Jeanne heard folks talking about the Pocono Mountains in the cafeteria at work. We had to look them up in our road atlas: northeastern Pennsylvania, eighty miles from Philadelphia, two hours out of New York City.
She got the number through Information, then phoned the Pennsylvania Visitors' Bureau. They flooded us with brochures. We found what we were looking for.
Mount Airy Lodge seemed to be as good as any. The Regency, The Golden Suite, The Villas, The Executive Suite, The Princess Suite, The Monarch Towers, and The Crystal Palace Suite. We booked the most expensive, the most elaborate.
"But we don't need all of that."
"We don't need any of it. This isn't about need."
She looked at me.
"We didn't need Elvis either."
I had her.
It was The Crystal Palace Suite: your own private swimming pool, right in your room. The absolutely essential heart-shaped double Jacuzzi bath. A Swedish sauna and custom-designed shower for two. Log-burning fireplace. The king-sized, round bed. Skylights. Stereo and fridge. And a completely private, outdoor garden courtyard.
Need? What were we talking about?
We took the Friday off work, left early, drove, pulled in late the same day. Friday night and Saturday night. Meals included. We drove home all day Sunday.
Dinners were at an assigned table opposite honeymooners who looked like children to us. The cuisine: upscale airplane food; the service brisk. Live entertainment, dancing: piano, bass, drums. "Memories." "You Are My Hero," "I Just Called to Say I Love You." "Your Momma Don't Sing and Your Daddy Don't Rock and Roll." The announcement of a thirty-eighth birthday, a fiftieth wedding anniversary. Breakfasts were equally curious; beside us: he spoke little English, she didn't care. Both mornings he ate like a man starved, her hands shook from their nightly bacchanalia.
There was no typical couple.
We used every part of our suite, every part of the lodge. We played billiards, took walks, drives, swam naked in our very own pool, sweated in our private sauna, lolled in the heart-shaped tub,
"Did I hear you say 'fat chance' earlier?"
I took another sip of beer. I could feel her on the other end. Like I could reach out and touch her. Maybe, I thought, this is phone sex. Without the sex.
"How far are you from Dayton?"
"About two hours, I think. I'll be there before noon tomorrow." Another pause. "I'm right across from Bowling Green State University. It's enormous. I want to look at it a bit in the morning, before I go."
"I wish I were with you."
"You'd be bored."
"With you? Are you kidding? Have you forgotten my traveling bag, all those places, already?"
I was quiet. I hadn't forgotten. I could never forget.
MOUNT AIRY LODGE
"America's Leading Year 'Round Resort"
Mount Pocono, Pennsylvania
MOUNT AIRY LODGE has EVERYTHING!
Ultra-luxury accommodations featuring your own
PRIVATE SWIMMING POOL IN YOUR ROOM.
Heart-shaped Jacuzzi baths and more:
- Indoor and outdoor Olympic-sized heated
- Swimming Pools
- Fabulous Indoor Sports Palace
- Indoor and Outdoor Tennis Courts
- Horseback Riding • Health Club • Marina
- Boating and Sailing on Private Lake
- The "18 Best" P.G.A. Championship Golf Course
- All Winter Sports at our Spectacular Ski Area
- Gourmet Dining and ALWAYS Top-Name
- Entertainment
Write for a brochure:
MOUNT AIRY LODGE, Mount Pocono, PA
Nationwide TOLL-FREE Telephone: 1-800—
It had been four years earlier, in September—another trip four hundred miles or so. We were veterans of the Niagara Falls Romantic Getaway ("2-night package, Jacuzzi and fireplace suite, walking distance to the Falls"); Niagara was only ninety miles from home. In fact, my grandmother, Nanny, had gone there on her honeymoon with Bampi in 1904. They'd gone in a horse-drawn wagon, one week before her nineteenth birthday. Nanny was three months pregnant with my father.
But we wanted to crank it up a notch. And after Vegas, what was left?
Jeanne heard folks talking about the Pocono Mountains in the cafeteria at work. We had to look them up in our road atlas: northeastern Pennsylvania, eighty miles from Philadelphia, two hours out of New York City.
She got the number through Information, then phoned the Pennsylvania Visitors' Bureau. They flooded us with brochures. We found what we were looking for.
Mount Airy Lodge seemed to be as good as any. The Regency, The Golden Suite, The Villas, The Executive Suite, The Princess Suite, The Monarch Towers, and The Crystal Palace Suite. We booked the most expensive, the most elaborate.
"But we don't need all of that."
"We don't need any of it. This isn't about need."
She looked at me.
"We didn't need Elvis either."
I had her.
It was The Crystal Palace Suite: your own private swimming pool, right in your room. The absolutely essential heart-shaped double Jacuzzi bath. A Swedish sauna and custom-designed shower for two. Log-burning fireplace. The king-sized, round bed. Skylights. Stereo and fridge. And a completely private, outdoor garden courtyard.
Need? What were we talking about?
We took the Friday off work, left early, drove, pulled in late the same day. Friday night and Saturday night. Meals included. We drove home all day Sunday.
Dinners were at an assigned table opposite honeymooners who looked like children to us. The cuisine: upscale airplane food; the service brisk. Live entertainment, dancing: piano, bass, drums. "Memories." "You Are My Hero," "I Just Called to Say I Love You." "Your Momma Don't Sing and Your Daddy Don't Rock and Roll." The announcement of a thirty-eighth birthday, a fiftieth wedding anniversary. Breakfasts were equally curious; beside us: he spoke little English, she didn't care. Both mornings he ate like a man starved, her hands shook from their nightly bacchanalia.
There was no typical couple.
We used every part of our suite, every part of the lodge. We played billiards, took walks, drives, swam naked in our very own pool, sweated in our private sauna, lolled in the heart-shaped tub,
Similar Books
