Grizzly Manor: Five

A modern take on Wuthering Heights taking place outside of New Orleans.

The next morning, I had my bags back downstairs the second I heard Lance rummaging around in the kitchen.  Rose wasn’t down yet and there was no sign of Griz, which was more than fine with me.  The good news was that the sky outside had cleared up, and the moat around the house that had been created by the rain had evaporated into a mere swampy puddle.  I was getting out of Grizzly Manor today.  I just needed to check-out.  Looking around for someone who could help me, I silently resented their ancient system of actually having physical keys.  In a modern establishment, I would be able to come and go as I pleased.  It occurred to me then that the key policy may have been by design �" to keep anyone from leaving before Grizz was ready to let them go. 

Cautiously, I tip toed back into the kitchen.  Lance was turning on a burner under a heavy-bottomed pot full of oil with on hand and using the other to stir thin batter in a bowl that looked like something out of my grandmother’s kitchen in 1964.  Under his breath, he was singing a Hank Williams song.  For a brief moment, I was so curious as to how someone as young as Lance knew Hank Williams that I forgot to interrupt his singing in my mad dash to escape. 

“You’ll never know how much it hurts to see you sit and cry.  You know you need and want my love, yet you’re afraid to try.  Why do you run and hide from life to try it just ain’t smart?  Why can’t I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart?”

After a moment of snooping, my curiosity (and second-hand embarrassment from walking in on him) was overridden by my intense desire to get out of the Manor as soon as possible.  Cleaning my throat, I knocked on the doorframe.  Looking up, Lance blushed roughly the color of a fire engine.  “Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m checking out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  I assumed that Lance just hadn’t heard my request to address me by name last night over assuming that he was just ignoring it.  “I’ll call Rose down.”

“Thank you.”

I saw him reach for a phone in the tiny old kitchen that looked as though it hadn’t been updated to meet modern fire codes before going back to wait by the front desk.  When Rose joined us, she was still in her pajamas.  Letting out a yawn that she didn’t bother to try and hide, she looked down at the ledger of guest reservations.  Noting the time and date, she piled her glossy chestnut locks into a messy bun on top of her head.  “Leavin’ so early?  Lance is makin’ beignets.  They’re the best in the Bayou.”

Lance dropped something in the kitchen, causing a loud clatter.  He was probably just as surprised as I was to hear Rose complimenting him.  “No thanks.”  I didn’t care how good Lance’s beignets were.  No amount of deep fried batter covered in powdered sugar was going to make me want to spend even one more second at Grizzly Manor. 

Rose’s eyes flicked up to me after my quick reaction.  For a second, it looked like she might try and convince me otherwise, and then thought better of it.  Making it clear that she thought it was my loss, Rose shrugged before picking up the same dated phone on the desk I’d noticed on my first night and dialed.  “Miss Lockwood is checking out.”

The person on the other end, who I assumed was Grizz, hung up so hard that I could hear it through the chord.  In less than a minute, Grizz Lee had joined us at the front desk.  Instead of his usual scowl, he gave me a charming smile like the one I’d seen in pictures of him walking a red carpet.  “Checking out early?”

“Yes,” I sternly confirmed.  I didn’t care about any amount of charm he may have possessed.  If delicious fried dough wasn’t going to entice me to stay, Grizz Lee’s obviously contrived charm certainly wasn’t going to help.

“Hope the weather last night didn’t turn you off.”

I could only stare at him blankly.  It wasn’t the torrential down pour that made my stomach turn.  It was this man, this murderer standing before me, and the way he spoke to shy, quiet Lance and beautiful Rose.  It was the graveyard outside on the property.  It was the ghost of Catherine Whoever She Was haunting ever corner of this old, worn down house.  “No,” I shook my head finally.  “No, it wasn’t the weather.”

And I left Grizzly Manor, with no intention of going back.  

Author's Note

This is a modern re-telling of Wuthering Heights that takes place in various places around Louisiana. It was hard to work out because Wuthering Heights actually has a really odd narrative structure. Any and all comments are appreciated, and if you have questions or anything is unclear please don't be afraid to say so.