Part one
Nancy wasn't saying much and George knew why. She was completely unhinged at Bess's behaviour with the lecherous bellhop, but felt uncomfortable about bringing it up with George, and the reason for this was quite simple: While she was at no fault in the matter, being Bess's cousin practically brought some responsibility for Bess's indiscretion home to roost on George's front step. George could certainly sympathize with Nancy where her shock at Bess's behaviour was concerned, could even understand the discomfort she was feeling with her on account of it but, for George, the situation was yet more complicated.
George was a self-confirmed, one hundred percent, card carrying lesbian. While still in the closet, however, this was something she'd known about herself for quite some time, around about the same time, in fact, that she'd realized she'd fallen deeply in love with Nancy. Of course, Nancy had no idea of these facts and only had eyes for 'Mr. Perfect', Ned Nickerson, (who George suspected was a little
too
perfect to be real) and had absolutely, positively no interest in her own gender, including the most loyal friend in her life, that being George Fayne. Yet, George held out hope that someday something would change, that Nancy would lose interest in her overgrown boy scout, would come to her senses and see in her friend, George, the loving adoration and loyalty that she could never have in Ned, who was half the time more involved in his own concerns than he was with Nancy anyway.
For this reason also, George was quite put out with her cousin's behaviour and the resulting rift of discomfort it had created between she and Nancy, but even that wasn't all there was to the current situation.
While both she and Nancy had been teasing Bess for some time about her weight, the way her younger, pretty blonde cousin had been dressing lately had been turning the eyes of a lot of boys and, as much as she hated to admit it, those of George's as well. Bess had proved that there was obviously nothing to be ashamed of in being a little pudgy and, though Bess's display in front of the bellhop was completely inappropriate and had created the current discomfort between her and Nancy, George found herself having trouble getting her cousin's incredible breasts and nipples out of her mind. It wasn't that she was suddenly feeling anything for Bess, but more a base sexual reaction towards her voluptuous cousin, and that made her feel like she was cheating on her very real and meaningful feelings for Nancy.
Finally, and perhaps worst of all, George couldn't help but notice how Nancy herself couldn't take her eyes from Bess's chest. While George was still sure (at least reasonably so) that Nancy had absolutely no interest in girls, she couldn't help but feel some jealousy towards her cousin anyway, couldn't help but wonder if she could get Nancy's attention if she had a body like Bess's.
All in all, Bess had created a mess and George wasn't even quite sure of how she should feel about it, let alone what she should actually do about it.
Stopping at Suite 510, Susan Quinn's suite, Nancy barely glanced at George with an expression that spoke of personal hesitation. It wasn't about knocking on the door, which she did, but rather hesitation around George. The awkward space between them was almost intolerable while they waited. Finally, when it was clear that nobody was in, at least not anyone willing to answer the door, Nancy took another glance at George, then up and down the corridor before trying the knob to find it locked.
"Now what?" George asked.
"I think we should go down to the main level and look around," Nancy replied, forcing a light, airy tone. Maybe we can find someone, perhaps another guest who remembers Susan and has some information we could use."
"Good thinking, Nancy," George agreed, her positivity just as forced.
From behind the reception desk, Mr. Carmody smiled politely at them as they passed through the lobby on their way to the sitting parlour. Just as politely, they smiled back before passing through the open French doors, looking around themselves at the richly appointed reading area, also done in mahogany and copper. Quite remarkable to Nancy was the fireplace. The opening was at least five feet high, its width approximately the same with a heavy mantle of mahogany with ornate, inlaid copper trim and polished, inset crystals. There was presently no fire, however its very presence somehow warmed the room with the thought of what kind of fire such a maw could support.
Still seated in the overstuffed, wingback chair, the man they'd seen earlier placed a bookmark between the pages of his hard covered tome, closing it and putting it aside as he smiled at the two girls, his eyes glancing appreciatively up and down their bodies as his verbal greeting came in a more gentlemanly manner.
"Why, hello, ladies."
"Hello," Nancy politely returned, although having noticed the man's roaming eyes.
George echoed Nancy's greeting and the man, who George guessed to be in his late fifties, introduced himself as David Marks. He stuck out his hand in the customary way, which Nancy took and shook, introducing herself. George did the same, noting his firm grip and a certain officious way about the man that suggested authority.
"Folks here at the Faldor call me Colonel," he informed, "though I don't know why. I keep telling them I'm retired, but they still do it anyway. I think they just like the idea of having an officer kicking around, retired or no. They probably figure it gives the place class."
"My," Nancy replied, "the Faldor certainly seems to have enough of that. We've never seen a place like this."
Marks hissed a short laugh and said, "Gaudy and stuffy, you mean. Still, it's nice that such pretty young ladies can appreciate an older generation's style. Most people your age think plastic furniture is classy. Both of you, please have a seat."
They thanked him and took a seat on a couch opposite him, George noticing his eyes taking another quick tour of their bodies, resting on their legs as they settled before looking at their faces when he addressed them again.
"So, where are you from?"
"River Heights," Nancy replied.
"Say, I once knew a Private from River Heights," the Colonel recalled. "Glendon Creamer. Used to always insist his name was pronounced
Craymer.
Idiot. So, what brings you lovely ladies so far from home?"
"A friend of ours asked us to join her here on vacation," Nancy replied. "Perhaps you've met her; Susan Quinn?"
"Yes, I have," Marks said. "Damned fine looking woman, I must say. The sea air certainly agrees with her."
"Oh?" George prodded.
"It does with some people," he explained with a shrug. "You'll notice how all the locals are quite attractive and bright- well, with the exception of Billybob, but that's not their fault. Their parents were brother and sister, you know."
"Billy... I'm afraid I don't understand, Colonel," Nancy admitted.
"Billybob Boyle," Marks went on to explain without any sign of resentment at Nancy's reference to him by his rank, retired or no. "There's two of them, Billy and Bob Boyle. They're identical twins and nobody can tell 'em apart but, since neither of em are any good for anything, it doesn't matter, so folks just call 'em both Billybob. Reverend Stephens more or less looks after them since their parents died."
"Oh, I think we've seen one of them," George said. "When we first got here."
"They're mostly harmless," he said, glancing at Nancy's legs again before she got conversation back on subject.
