Chapter (Two Hundred) Thirteen: Spatula

They stopped at a room at the end of the hall and Ernesto pushed open its door. He ambled in, leaving her standing behind the threshold, and plopped her duffel on the neatly made bed. 

Then he turned to her with a grin. " Here you go, Sunshine. All yours." 

There were tall arch windows beside the bed that looked out onto the rose garden outside. The walls were a whitish grey with subtle gold accents. The floor was polished hardwood, a Turkish-style carpet strewn at the foot of the bed. Floating shelves held ornate frames, fine trinkets, a golden candelabra with none of its candles lit, and a few hardback books.

At the corner closest to where Ernesto stood was a wardrobe made of mahogany wood, painted grey to match the walls. At another corner was a black chaise lounge, to the side was a vanity desk with a large silver mirror above it.