Autumn at the Inn, Part 3

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Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone

in which

nothing much happens.

You feel good

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I'm Catherine Nikolai.

I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

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Did you know one of the best ways to ensure you won't fall asleep is by

trying really hard to fall asleep.

I know it's weird, but it's true.

We kind of need to sneak up on sleep.

Take a roundabout approach.

Just when it doesn't suspect we're coming for it.

Bedtime stories are the perfect roundabout way.

So just listen along as I read.

I'll tell the story twice,

and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through.

If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to push play again

and sneak right back to Dreamland.

Our story tonight is called Autumn at the Inn.

Part 3.

And you guessed it.

It is is a continuation of the last two episodes.

Though you don't need to go back and listen to those if you slept through them, which I hope you did.

This is a story about arriving somewhere you've never been,

but where you feel instantly at home.

It's also about eucalyptus and chamomile.

A thick blanket at the foot of the bed, ducks on the lake, meeting a new friend,

and a meal shared in the moonlight.

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Now please get as comfortable as you can.

Let your guard down.

please

let your guard down.

The day is done

and you are exactly where you're supposed to be right now.

So soften.

All is well.

Draw a deep breath in through your nose

and sigh from your mouth.

Again, breathe in

and let it go

Good

Autumn at the Inn.

Part three

The jingle of the cat's collar woke me in the night.

I'd been deeply asleep,

dreaming about train tracks,

a bakery box full of cookies,

and a lake with a family of ducks tranquilly floating on its surface.

But the bell on that collar was persistent,

or rather,

the cat it was attached to was.

The sycamore and I had already become friends.

He'd greeted me as soon as I stepped into the inn with my suitcase in hand.

I'd been momentarily stunned by the grand curving staircase

and the rich smell of varnished wood and eucalyptus.

I'd set my case down and stepped up to the foot of the stairs,

leaning against the banister

to crane my neck and look up through the railings.

I felt something soft slink around my ankle

and with a start

looked down

to find a black cat

with bright green eyes

sitting beside my foot

playfully swatting at my shoelace

which had come undone

I stooped down to retie it

and said hello to the cat

I've learned to let animals show

whether they'd welcome a pet or not,

since,

as far as I am aware,

they can't speak.

I watched his movements,

and when he dropped his eyes and butted his small head against my leg,

I took that as an invitation

and reached out to scratch his ears.

Just then we both heard a voice calling from somewhere far off.

Sycamore,

come on.

We have a guest arriving any minute.

The cat's ears twitched, clearly listening.

And I whispered to him,

Are you Sycamore?

He just stared into my eyes

in that slightly unnerving way that cats sometimes do.

Footsteps were coming closer

down a long hallway from what must be the back of the inn.

And I pushed myself up to standing.

Oh,

you're here,

said the smiling woman, who emerged from the hall.

Then,

seeing Sycamore at my foot, said,

And so are you.

I'm the one who was missing.

I liked her immediately

and felt another layer of tension and burnout melt off my shoulders.

Within a few minutes, I'd been given a key

and shown up to my room on the second floor.

I was invited to come down for some tea and a tour of the house and grounds when I was ready,

and I was let in on the

quote, unquote,

sycamore situation.

The

sycamore situation?

I asked.

Yes,

she said,

with a small note of consternation in her voice that made me laugh just to hear it.

A sycamore takes his role as

hospitality specialist very seriously

and may try to look in on you during the night,

you know, to make sure

that you have everything you need

and to see if something you need

might be

a cat?

I asked.

Exactly, she said.

We both looked down at Sycamore,

who seemed to be following along with the conversation,

just waiting for his turn to interject.

He had butted my ankle again.

The innkeeper reached for a paper placard

hanging from a ribbon on the back of my room's door.

There was a large black paw print

inked onto one side of it,

on the other, a classic do not disturb message

with one word added in large black letters at the top,

so that it read, Sycamore,

do not disturb.

Paw print out means he's welcome.

Otherwise,

flip the message to the hall,

and he will most likely leave you alone.

I wasn't sure if she was serious.

She looked serious.

If this was a joke, she had a very reliable, straight face.

He can read?

I asked.

She waved her hand at me, as if to say that it wasn't much to be impressed by,

and said only in English

Now

settle in and we'll see you later for some tea

and they both trooped out

and closed the door behind them

I'd still been chuckling to myself

as I wandered over to the window and looked out at a view

that was truly breathtaking.

The inn sat on a small rise,

and from my room I could see the sloping lawns below

and the path that led to the lake.

The lake was larger than I'd imagined.

I could see the other side, but

had to squint to make out the houses and docks there.

Trees,

so many trees,

and they were turning all shades of yellow, orange, and red.

I took several deep breaths,

just standing there,

letting the calm of the world I was looking at

transfer into my body.

I'd meant to unpack my suitcase

and immediately go down

to check out the rest of the inn and the property.

But the exhaustion I'd been pushing to one side

suddenly engulfed me.

I'd taken my finger out of the dam,

and there was no walling it back up.

I kicked off my shoes

and stretched out on the large, soft bed.

There was a blanket folded at its foot.

One of those thick,

incredibly soft and heavy throws.

and as soon as I pulled it up over me

I fell asleep.

It had been late afternoon

when I'd arrived at the inn

hours of daylight still ahead

But when I heard the bell on Sycamore's collar

and finally pulled myself from the deep sleep I'd been in.

It was pitch black outside.

I sat up in bed,

still in my traveling clothes,

the blanket wrapped around me,

and blinked into the dark,

trying to remember where I was,

Though confused for a moment,

I felt safe.

I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Even if the exact details had escaped me.

Then I heard the bell again

and remembered

Sycamore.

The sign still hung on the back of my door

where the innkeeper had left it.

He didn't know if I needed him,

but by the steady ringing

and the small black paw

that was feeling around

through the crack under my door,

he had a pretty good idea.

I struggled to my feet,

pulling the blanket around my shoulders,

and went to let him in.

When I unlocked the door and opened it,

I found him sitting on his haunches,

looking up at me,

purring loudly.

Beside him in the the hall was a cart with covered dishes and a note.

I looked up and down the empty hall and wondered how long it had sat out while I slept.

I reached for the note,

noticing the same dark green ink

that had been on the business card that led me to this wondrous place.

It just said,

I thought you might be hungry.

Still groggy, but feeling my stomach growl at the thought of food.

I wheeled the cart into my room,

ushered Sycamore in behind it,

and shut the door again.

I switched on a lamp

and took a look at what had been set out for me.

Under the covers was a basket of seedy rolls and crackers

and little sealed jars of spreads.

There were two shining apples

with a small paring knife

and a dish of peanut butter.

Beside it was a porcelain cookie jar in the shape of an owl

that was full of dark brown molasses cookies.

There was also a thermos

full of some kind of herbal tea,

chamomile maybe,

and a jug of water.

I rolled the cart over to the window seat

and curled up on it in the moonlight.

I poured a cup of the tea, which was still hot and steaming,

and began to cut the apple into slices.

When I shook out one of the cloth napkins,

a little packet fell out,

and Sycamore jumped up beside me to sniff it.

Cat treats?

They think of everything here, I whispered, as I shook a few onto the sill.

We ate together in the silence of deep night.

Then I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth,

and crawled right

back into bed.

I wasn't nearly done catching up on my sleep.

Sycamore hopped up beside me,

and as I rolled onto my side,

he curled up against my chest and began to pur.

I tucked an arm around him,

and we fell asleep.

Autumn

at the Inn

Part 3

The jingle of the cat's collar

woke me in the night.

I'd been deeply asleep,

dreaming about train tracks,

a bakery box full of cookies,

and a lake

with a family of ducks

tranquilly floating on its surface.

But the bell on that collar was persistent,

or

rather,

the cat it was attached to was.

Sycamore and I had already become friends.

He'd greeted me

as soon as I stepped into the inn

with my suitcase in hand.

I'd been momentarily stunned by the grand curving staircase

and the rich smell of varnished wood and eucalyptus.

I'd set my case down

and stepped up to the foot of the stairs,

leaning against the banister

to crane my neck

and look up through the railings

I felt something soft

slink around my ankle

and with a start

looked down

to find a black cat

with bright green eyes

sitting beside my foot,

playfully swatting at my shoelace,

which had come undone.

I stooped down to retie it

and said hello to the cat.

I've learned to let animals show

whether they'd welcome a pat

or not

since

as far as I am aware

they can't speak

I watched his movements

and when he dropped his eyes

and butted his small head against my leg

I took that as an invitation

and reached out to scratch his ears.

Just then

we both heard a voice calling from far off

Sycamore,

come on.

We have a guest arriving any minute.

The cat's ears twitched,

clearly listening,

and I whispered to him,

Are you sycamore?

He just stared

into my eyes

in that slightly unnerving way

that cats sometimes do.

Footsteps came closer

down a long hallway

from what must have been the back of the inn,

and I pushed myself

up to standing.

Oh,

you're here,

said the smiling woman,

who emerged from the hall.

Then,

seeing Sycamore at my foot,

said,

And so are you.

I'm the one who was missing.

I liked her immediately

and felt another layer of tension

and burnout

melt off my shoulders.

Within a few minutes,

I'd been given a key

and shown up to my room

on the second floor.

I was invited to come down for some tea

and a tour of the house and grounds when I was ready.

And I was

let in on

the quote, unquote,

sycamore situation.

The sycamore situation?

I asked.

Yes,

she said,

with a small note of consternation in her voice

that made me laugh just to hear it.

Sycamore takes his role

as

hospitality specialist

very seriously

and may try to look in on you in the night.

You know, to

make

sure you have everything

you need.

And to see if something

you need

might

be

a cat?

I asked.

Exactly, she said.

We both looked down at Sycamore,

who seemed to be following along

with the conversation,

just waiting for his turn to interject.

He had butted my ankle again.

The innkeeper reached for a paper placard

hanging from a ribbon

on the back of my room's door.

There was a large black paw print

inked onto one side of it,

and on the other,

a classic do not disturb message

with one word added

in large block letters at the top

so that it read

Sycamore,

do not disturb.

Paw print out

means

he's welcome.

Otherwise, flip the message to the hall

and he will most likely

leave you alone.

I wasn't sure

if she was serious.

She looked serious.

If this was a joke,

she had a very reliable,

straight face.

He can read?

I asked.

She waved her hand at me,

as if to say that

it wasn't much to be impressed by,

and said

only in English

Now,

settle in,

and we'll see you later for some tea

And they both trooped out

and closed the door behind them.

I'd still been chuckling to myself

as I wandered over to the window

and looked out at a view

that was truly breathtaking.

The inn sat on a small rise,

and from my room

I could see the sloping lawns below

and the path that led to the lake.

The lake was larger than I'd imagined.

I could see the other side,

but had to squint

to make out the houses

and docks there.

Trees

so many trees

And they were turning all shades of yellow, yellow, orange, and red.

I took several deep breaths,

just standing there,

letting the comb of the world I was looking at

transfer into my body.

I'd meant to unpack my suitcase

and immediately go down

to check out the rest of the inn

and the property.

But the exhaustion I'd been pushing to one side

suddenly engulfed me.

I'd taken my finger

out of the dam,

and there was no walling it back up.

I kicked off my shoes

and stretched out

on the large soft bed.

There was a blanket

folded at its foot,

one of those thick,

incredibly soft

and heavy throws

And as soon as I pulled it up over me

I fell asleep.

It had been late afternoon

when I had arrived at the inn

hours of daylight still ahead.

But when I heard the bell

on Sycamore's collar

and finally pulled myself

from the deep sleep I'd been in,

it was pitch black outside.

I sat up in the bed,

still in my traveling clothes.

The blanket wrapped around me

and blinked into the dark,

trying to remember where I was.

Though confused for a moment,

I felt safe.

I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be,

even if the details had escaped me.

Then I heard the bell again

and remembered

Sycamore.

The sign still hung

on the back of my door,

where the innkeeper had left it.

He didn't know if I needed him,

but by the steady ringing

and the small black paw

that was feeling around

through the crack under my door,

he had a pretty good idea.

I struggled to my feet,

pulling the blanket around my shoulders,

and went to let him in.

When I unlocked the door

and opened it,

I found him sitting on his haunches,

looking up at me,

purring loudly.

Beside him in the hall,

was a cart with covered dishes and a note.

I looked up and down the empty hall

and wondered how long

it had sat there

while I slept.

I reached for the note,

noticing the same dark green ink

that had been on the business card

that led me

to this wondrous place.

It just said,

Thought you might be hungry,

still groggy,

but feeling my stomach growl

at the idea of food

I wheeled the cart

into my room

Ushered sycamore in behind it

And shut the door again

I switched on a lamp

and took a look at what had been set out for me.

Under the covers

was a basket of seedy rolls

and crackers

and little sealed jars of spreads.

There were two shining apples

with a small paring knife

and a dish of peanut butter.

Beside it was a porcelain cookie jar,

in the shape of an owl,

full of dark brown molasses cookies.

There was also a thermos of some kind of herbal tea,

chamomile, maybe,

and a jug of water.

I rolled the cart

over to the window seat

and curled up on it in the moonlight.

I poured a cup of tea,

which was still hot and steaming,

and began to cut the apple into slices.

When I shook out one of the cloth napkins,

a little packet fell out,

and Sycamore jumped up beside me to sniff it.

Cat treats?

They think of everything here,

I whispered,

as I shook a few onto the sill.

We ate together

in the silence of deep night.

Then

I changed into my pajamas,

brushed my teeth,

and crawled right back into bed.

I wasn't nearly done

catching up on my sleep.

Sycamore hopped up beside me,

and as I rolled onto my side,

he curled up against my chest

and began to purr.

I tucked an arm around him

And we fell asleep.

Sweet dreams