Jenks pulled the van around to the empty spot before the door. The headlights fell into the room to show an ugly brown carpet and a yellow bedspread. Flicking on the light, I went in, heading for the pretend kitchen and the second door at the back. I set my bag on the bed, concerned when I realized the door led to the bathroom, not a second room.

Muttering about caves, Jenks came in with my suitcase, his eyes roving the low ceiling. He dropped my bag by the door, tossed me the keys to the van, and headed out, flicking the light switch several times because he could.

“Ah, Jenks,” I called, fingers smarting from the keys. “We need a different room.”

Jenks came in with my laptop and Ivy’s sword, setting them on the round table under the front window. “How come? I was kidding about the shower mold.” He took a deep breath, nose wrinkling. “That smells like … Well, it’s not shower mold.”

I didn’t want to know what he was smelling, but when I silently pointed to the single bed, all he did was shrug, his lusciously green eyes innocent. Gesturing helplessly, I said, “One bed?”

“So?” Then he flushed, his eyes darting to the box of tissues on the bedside table. “Oh. Yeah. I won’t fit in the Kleenex box anymore, will I?”

Not looking forward to talking to that lady, I headed for the door, snagging my shoulder bag in passing. “I’ll get a new room. Do me a favor and don’t use the bathroom. She’ll probably charge us a cleaning fee.”

“I’m coming with you,” he said, falling into step with me.

The kids from the pool were making a quick, wet-footed dash to their room, shivering under skimpy white towels when we crossed the parking lot. Jenks opened the office door for me, and the sound of seashells clunking mixed with the sound of a tearful argument when we entered. “You charged them the Fourth of July weekend rate?” I heard a man say, and her blubbering answer. I looked at Jenks in a mute question, and he cleared his throat loudly. Silence.

After a hushed conversation, a short, follicle-challenged man in a plaid shirt emerged, brushing his balding plate. “Yes?” he said with an artificially interested look. “What can I get for you? Extra towels for the pool?” From somewhere out of sight the woman made a hiccup of a sob, and he reddened.

“Actually,” I said, putting the room key on the chest-high partition between us, “I’d like to see about getting a different room. We need two beds, not one. My fault for not making that clear.” I smiled as if I hadn’t heard anything.

The man’s gaze went to Jenks, and he flushed deeper. “Ah, yes. Number thirteen, right?” he said, snatching it and giving me a new one.