The Waitress and the Mafia Guardian of the Silent Black Orchid
A fire was already burning in the stone fireplace, casting a warm glow.
“If you need anything, press the button by the bed,” Mrs. Gable said.
She looked at Bishop, who had already claimed a spot on the rug by the fire.
“Goodnight, miss,” she added, quickly shutting the door behind her.
I was alone in the room with the dog.
I walked over to the window and looked out.
The rain was still heavy, lashing against the glass pane.
I could see the distant lights of the city below.
I felt like a prisoner in a gilded cage, but the warmth of the fire was comforting.
I took off my wet coat and draped it over a chair.
Bishop watched me, his chin resting on his front paws.
I walked over to a heavy wooden dresser in the corner of the room.
There was a silver hairbrush and a small porcelain tray on top of it.
Beside the tray sat a small, leather-bound book.
I picked up the book, its cover worn and soft from years of handling.
It was a diary or a notebook.