Though I’m exhausted, once I’m lying in bed, I find myself looking up at the ceiling.What’s wrong with me?
“Welcome to Harrah’s Lake Tahoe!” The bellman greets me at the door.
I nod to acknowledge him. “Thank you.” The opportunity just landed in my lap and rather than stay in the City, I’m here to get away, relax, and do some skiing.
I can already hear the music of the slot machines. This will be a great place to spend Thanksgiving week. I just know it. Though I think I’m still trying to convince myself.
“Checking in?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Turn the corner here, and the check-in line is on your right.” He looks at his watch. “It shouldn’t be so bad this time of day.”
I follow his directions, but when I spot the parade of people, I stop short. The line is probably twenty deep.Wow. I have no choice but to join them. Fortunately, I’m behind a beautiful blonde and an attractive older woman I assume is her mother.
“I can’t believe, given the amount of money we spend to stay here, that we’re stuck in this obnoxious line,” the older woman says.
The blonde looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Mom, the other hotel is full. We’re going to have a nice holiday here.”
“If your father was alive, he’d have made the Ritz Carlton make room for us.”
“I know, but dad isn’t here, and this is the best I could do. We have tickets to the show tonight—”
“It better not be one of those shows where they’re topless.”
“No, Mom, they’ll be wearing clothes. It’s a Bob Mackie showcase, so the outfits will be spectacular. And we also have a spa day tomorrow.”
“This line is going nowhere.”
“We’ll be at the front in moments. I promise.”
I look toward the front, and all the check-in ambassadors are busily working away. But it’s shortly after three, a holiday week, and we’ve all arrived at the same time.
I zone out for a moment, and suddenly, the mother-daughter duo are being helped. Then I’m finally summoned to the check-in desk.
“Clay McGrath checking in for the week.” I hand her my California driver’s license and a credit card.
She clicks on the keyboard and hands me my room key.
I pick up my bag, and as I’m walking to the elevator, I see the blonde and her mother up ahead, meandering through the casino. There’s a loud cheer, and a group of kids in their early twenties—probably barely legal to be in here—celebrates exuberantly at the craps table. Then, as if it’s happening in slow motion, I watch as an elbow goes right into the side of the mother’s head. She collapses to the ground.
The guy who knocked her out takes off running, and the group disperses. No one stops to ask if she’s okay.
I race over as the blonde screams for help.
“I’m a doctor.” I straighten the woman’s crumpled body so she’s lying flat on the floor. I check her vitals, and she’s breathing. Security rushes over, and I ask them to call an ambulance.
“Your mother has sustained a contusion to the head,” I tell the daughter. “I saw it happen. We’re lucky that when she fell, she didn’t hit her head on anything.”
“Mom? Mom?” The blonde reaches for her mother’s hand.
I feel the bones in the woman’s legs and arms. Nothing seems injured, and nothing seems to be blocking her airway. I have my eye on the clock, knowing that the amount of time she’s unconscious is important.
Then her eyes flutter open. “What happened?” She looks at me, and her hands begin to tremble. She’s panicking.
“What’s your mother’s name?” I ask the blonde.
“Felicity Standing.”