DAY 2

      A short lady with white hair strode into the hotel lobby. A man followed her carrying a duffel bag and a large suitcase in one hand while pulling a matching black suitcase on wheels in the other. Somehow he managed to balance two pillow atop the rolling luggage without dropping the overnight bag and purse that had begun to slip from his shoulder.
From one of the chairs in the lobby, a solemn man watched their entrance and drew a line through an entry on the list he held in his hands - Mr. and Mrs. Jim Deaver.
Mrs. Deaver stopped to adjust her blue-flower print blouse with her free hands and turned to see her husband struggle down a small set of marble stairs. “Jim, would you please hurry up? We are going to miss our check-in time.”
“Mary… I think we can make it across the lobby in thirty seconds,”  or at least one of us can. “Why don’t you get our keys while I continue on towards the elevator?”
“I suppose you do need a head start. Okay, I will be there quicker than you can spell ‘chicanery’.”
Where on earth does she get these words?