Fury

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“MS. WINTERS,” THE HOTEL receptionist said, “I believe we have a message for you.” The small black man moved down the counter to the computer terminal and typed in a command, then waited for the response on the screen.

Jennifer glanced around the lobby of the Washington, D.C., hotel and spotted a printed sign that read:

That’s what she needed, Jennifer thought wryly, a change, especially in her love life.

“Yes, here it is,” the reception clerk said. ” Room twenty-three fourteen. Jenny, I have a two o’clock appointment. See you at four.’ And it’s signed, ‘T.’ ” The reception clerk looked up. “Would you like a copy?”

“No, thank you. Room twenty-three fourteen, yes?”

“That’s right. I’ll delete this message?”

“Yes, please.” She bent down and picked up her briefcase.

“And I’ll have your luggage sent up,” the clerk added, handing her a computer card. “Your room won’t be ready for another twenty minutes, at two o’clock.”

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