At dawn I’ll be in bed for another three hours, but you go ahead.
A shout is heard.
Ms. Mercury!
Heads swivel. F.X.R is with Bea as she unlocks the door to one of the rooms.
Come and see our accommodations.
INT. MOTEL ROOM—DAY
Bea and Phil stand and watch as F.X.R. tests out the bed while Ms. Mercury inspects the bathroom.
I hate to be a pest, but I have a bad disc from a fall I took chopping trees in Alberta.
Ms. Mercury shoots him a look. He never did any such thing.
This mattress will kill me before it gets me to sleep.
(thinking)
Doesn’t room three have a newer mattress?
Only a few months old. I’ll change it, pronto.
(feeling the sheets)
And these, um, “sheets”? Way too scratchy. I have a skin condition.
I can break open a fresh set.
Will they be washed? Nothing is worse than brand-new sheets.
Not even heart disease. I’ll soften them up for you.
(concerned)
Better try the pillows. Too firm won’t be any good for that back of yours.
Too firm and I can’t move my neck in the morning.
(he tries a pillow, grabs his neck)
Ouch! No way!
We sleep with some good down models. We’ll put fresh cases on them and let you have them for the night.
And, finally, this picture here over the bed.
The one of a babbling brook and a farmhouse.
It reminds me of a foster home I once spent an eternity in. Do you have some other painting we could hang?
Ms. Mercury mouths the words “foster home”?
Room twelve has one with some ducks.
I have a fear of waterfowl.
There’s one with some wagon wheels on it in Eight.
Wagon wheels? Why paint wagon wheels? I don’t understand.
There’s a clown face in Room Thirteen.
No way. The thought makes F.X.R. shudder.
How about we just remove all the artwork?
Problem solved.
INT. MOTEL ROOM—DAY
Later. Phil is moving in a new mattress. Ms. Mercury is marveling at the softness of the bath towels, and Bea is putting pillowcases on the borrowed pillows.
(completely amazed)
What do you use to make this towel so soft? It’s like mink!
I just wash ’em, honey. Then I hang them out to dry.
I can’t wait to take a shower!
When you do, let the hot water run. It takes a while.
Okay. Last item. How does a soul get nourishment around here?
Used to be a cafe right across the road. Truman’s, it was called. Great pie. Even better pot roast. Closed in 1991.
Fast-food places over in Chesterton. Thirty-six miles as the crow flies.
I’d rather eat crow than fast food in Chesterton.
Just as well. We’re stuck here. The car blew its oxyspoiler.
(remembering, and bolting)
I gotta call Tommy Boyer!
As he leaves…
Any chance of room service?
If you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.
EXT. BACK OF MOTEL—LATER
A mini-farm. Complete with henhouse and garden. Beautifully kept. Bea is expertly inspecting vegetables while Ms. Mercury tries to get tomatoes off a vine.
(tossing into a basket)
Okay. Tomatoes. Radishes. Those long green things. And half of my fingernails.
Wouldn’t avocados be perfect? I’ve got to plant some avocado trees.
They grow on trees?
Yes. But you need two. One male tree and one female tree. Otherwise no avocados.
The trees… have sex?
Once a week. Just like that old man and me.
Bea LAUGHS. Even the chickens SQUAWK in jest.
That is way too much information…
EXT. POOL AREA—DUSK
Phil has been preparing an old barbecue, where a scrawny chicken rotates on a spit. The pool, empty of water…
So you never had kids?
(shakes his head)
Couldn’t. Didn’t mind though. Back in the old days this place was swarming with kids all the time. That’s ’cause of this swim pool. A dozen motels along Eighty-eight before the interstate cut us off. Only three had swim pools. I put up signs every twenty miles, saying, ‘Mount Olympus—Swim Pool.’ Guess where the kids demanded to stay?
With Phil and Bea.
You ever work in the hospitality business?
Not legitimately.
Phil gives him a look.
It’s a line of work you can’t learn. Has to come natural. You have to like people and trust ’em. And lie a little when those with crazy eyes ask if there’s a vacancy. No shame in that. Wisdom.
You must like the motel business.
I like this motel. Could use a bit more business.
MUSIC: “Last Date” by Floyd Cramer
EXT. LANDSCAPE—SUNSET
At the very moment the sun blinks out, gone, beyond the horizon.
EXT. MOTEL OLYMPUS—THE WHOLE PLACE—NIGHT
The sign is not lit up itself, but has only a cheap garden light shining up on it.
Down by the pool we see that a picnic dinner has been enjoyed by the two innkeepers and their guests.
Tell me something. How long you kids been together?
What?
You two. You an item?
Phil, whose business is that?
(her eyes go wide!)
Are we an item? An item? Item?