Judith Alguire - Rudley 04 - Peril at the Pleasant by Judith Alguire

they’ll leave their car keys at the desk while we’re away. Just in case the car has to be moved.”
    He flipped the room key into the air and caught it. “Great. I’ll just stow my gear, then I’ll move the car.” He looked around. “Where’s the elevator?”
    She pointed to the stairs. “We have just two flights up, Mr. Turnbull.”
    He shrugged and headed for the stairs.
    Margaret paused in thought. She and Rudley had never considered an elevator. The cottages were completely accessible and they had a ramp available if one were needed for access to the main inn.
    She didn’t have long to contemplate the merits of an elevator because Mr. Turnbull pounded back down the stairs and out the front door, nearly bowling over Norman and Geraldine who were on their way in.
    “That young man seems to be in a hurry,” said Geraldine.
    “That was Mr. Turnbull,” said Margaret. “He’s one of our adventurers.”
    “He seems energetic,” said Norman. He and Geraldine went on into the dining room.
    A few minutes later, Rudley returned to the desk, carrying a plate of scallops and a piece of cake.
    “You just missed Mr. Turnbull,” said Margaret. “He’s gone to park his car.”
    “I expect I’ll catch him later,” Rudley said, adding, “or perhaps now,” as Turnbull zipped up the steps and into the lobby.
    “Lunch is being served in the dining room,” Margaret called out as Turnbull stopped in front of the dining room door and peered in.
    “Great.” He took off into the dining room.
    After a moment of silence, Rudley said, “It seems the young people we’ve had to date have been more of the mature, sober types.”
    “I rather like his youthful energy,” said Margaret.
    “I never had an ounce of youthful energy.”
    She looked at him, bewildered.
    “What I mean to say is I’ve always had a good metabolism. My energy level has always been most satisfactory.” He smiled a jaunty smile. “Consider, Margaret, a mature man, up at the crack of dawn, working tirelessly throughout the day, seldom in bed before midnight.”
    She smiled back. “Oh, Rudley, I remember the days you could go day and night. My father thought you were taking amphetamines.”
    By moving rapidly room to room, I was able to avoid lengthy conversations with him, Rudley thought. “As I matured, Margaret, I harnessed my youthful energy to purposeful tasks.”
    Before she could challenge this, the door opened and a young couple, laden with luggage, entered.
    “Mr. Rudley, Mrs. Rudley.”
    “Elizabeth, Edward.” Margaret went around the desk and exchanged hugs with the new arrivals.
    “Miss Miller, Mr. Simpson,” said Rudley. “How refreshing to see someone normal.”
    Simpson’s forehead crimped. Miss Miller didn’t miss a beat. She pulled the register toward her and signed in. “We would have been here earlier but we had a flat tire.”
    “Elizabeth changed it,” said Edward, “but we had to find a garage to get a regular tire.”
    “I don’t know why they don’t include a decent spare,” said Miss Miller. “It’s one more example of forces conspiring to make us less independent.”
    “Yes, wonderful clunky things, those old spares, taking up half the trunk,” said Rudley. “People were always removing them and leaving them at home so they could fit in their luggage.”
    “I imagine one could write a rather fascinating travel article about that,” said Simpson.
    “Oh, the good old days,” said Rudley, “when all we needed was a patch and a pump.”
    Miss Miller smiled. “You should enjoy this adventure, then, Mr. Rudley. Seven days of living without modern clutter.”
    “He’s really looking forward to it,” said Margaret.
    “I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to it.”
    “We’ll take our luggage to our room and be right back down,” Miss Miller said.
    “Can we help with the luggage?” Margaret noted how Edward was sagging under the weight.
    “Oh, Edward will be fine. Room 206?”
    Rudley