Wednesday afternoon, I was scheduled to fly to Dallas for a meeting. My flight was delayed. A few hours later, it was cancelled. Dallas was experiencing thunderstorms and lightening strikes so the airport shut down. The next flight available was the following morning, out of Palm Springs. The airline put me in a cab and sent me off to Palm Springs. They paid for the cab. I was on my own for a hotel that night. I wasn’t unhappy. There are worse places to spend the night than Palm Springs. I used my Blackberry to find a hotel and made a reservation. Then I called my husband and asked him to meet me at my hotel. The cab ride was an hour – I had plenty of time to make arrangements. Brett said he would start the two hour drive from our home to Palm Springs as soon as he finished the evening barn chores.
I arrived at the hotel at 7:00. It was small, hidden behind vines, and old. It felt as though I was stepping back in time to the roaring 20s. I followed a path of wide stones to my room. The walkway meandered past the pool, under an Spanish archway, and then through a garden. The fragrance of jasmine hung heavy in the air. It was quiet – no traffic noise, no voices, just an occasional bird call. The room was Morocco meets old Hollywood. There was a full bar complete with martini glasses and a shaker. Whiskey, vodka, tequila, rum, mixers. I opened the doors to the balcony and a warm breeze filled the room. The anticipation of an unplanned night with Brett brought back memories of past furtive hotel rendezvous’. I was filled with the old excitement and impatience for his arrival.
We ate a late dinner, poolside. The breeze was still warm as it washed us with the scent of jasmine and threatened to blow out the small candle lighting our table. The wine was cool and crisp with just an edge of sweetness. The meal was perfectly prepared.
Before daybreak the next morning, Brett dropped me off at the airport and drove back home. As my plane climbed into the sky, I thought about the power of romance and about the happiness of a new memory created with an old flame – a flame that still burns true and bright.