Flight of the Jabiru by Elizabeth Haran Page B

with several mining leases,” Sid said.
    â€œShe sounds like an amazing woman.” Lara loved history, especially anything to do with strong women who were achievers.
    â€œI wish she was around now and unattached. I’d marry her in a heartbeat if she’d have an old sea dog like me,” Sid chuckled. “It’s every man’s dream to marry a woman who owns a pub. If she’s also wealthy, it would be like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
    Lara shook her head. Sid was fifty two. He’d been at sea since he was fifteen, but had never been shackled by a ball a chain, the unflattering term he used for a wife. “I’m really going to miss your wicked sense of humor,” she said.
    â€œI’m serious,” Sid replied with his familiar chuckle.
    â€œI don’t believe any woman could tie you down, not even the wealthy owner of a pub. You’re too set in your ways and married to the life at sea.”
    â€œYou’re probably right, and it would be my luck she’d have a face like a camel’s rear end.” Sid realized what he’d said and had the graciousness to look embarrassed. “Sorry, sometimes I forget I’m in the presence of a lady, but you get the idea.”
    â€œUnfortunately,” Lara said trying not to laugh but he could see she was amused. She’d never taken offense at the things he said and that was one of the things he liked about her.
    Before they entered the hotel, Sid pointed out that it was built in 1890 from multi-colored porcelainite stone and it had survived two cyclones. “To be honest, I’d never heard of porcelainite stone before,” he said admiring it. The facade was dominated by a parapeted gable and verandas. It was quite an imposing structure, which made its history all the more impressive.
    As they stepped into the hotel foyer they were confronted by a grand mahogany hall stand with brass hat pegs along the front, on which stood a very old vase containing a slightly wilted floral arrangement. Lara wondered if the hallstand and vase belonged to the original owner, Ellen Ryan. Either side of the hallstand were parlor palms in large brass pots and on another wall, a large gilt-edged mirror. Although clean, the carpet was a little threadbare down the center, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what it had looked like new, although she doubted it was original.
    Lara could hear the noisy patrons in the front bar and smell beer and cigarette smoke. They approached the reception desk. While Sid put down her case and rang the bell for service, Lara sighed.
    â€œAre you all right?” Sid asked in concern, observing the light film of perspiration on her brow. “The heat takes a bit of getting used to.”
    â€œI’m fine. It’s just wonderful to be on dry land again,” Lara claimed. “But I still feel like I’m aboard ship.” Everything seemed to be moving.
    â€œIt takes a few days to get your land legs after a voyage,” Sid said as a woman appeared from the kitchen looking frazzled.
    â€œHonestly, why is it whenever you want a job done properly, you have to do it yerself?” she mumbled crossly to no one in particular. “Apparently they don’t make gravy in the Philippines. Can you believe that?”
    Obviously she wasn’t expecting an answer to the question; she was just venting, but Lara and Sid had no idea what she was talking about. They watched in silence as she wiped her hands on a floral apron that looked so old it wasn’t hard to imagine it had been in her glory box. She then removed it and tossed it under the desk, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and transformed into the role of calm ‘receptionist’.
    â€œCan I help you?” With eyes as sharp as an eagle’s, she took appraisal of the two people before her, starting with Lara. She noted her pretty face, platinum blond hair, and lovely dress, deciding she could