Whenshe arrived back at Le Jardin, with just a few minutes to spare, Lucy could seethat the convention guests - the members of Société Poursuite - weremilling about the lobby. They weren't all guests, of course. It was aconvention that attracted a lot of locals, as well as people from all over thetri-state area who drove in for the three days of seminars, lectures anddinners.

    Inall, over the next few hours there would be ninety-two new guests, and all ofthem had to be quickly and efficiently processed, greeted with smiles andpleasant repartee, their concerns listened to with rapt attention, their everyneed anticipated and met, their next three days in the city of Philadelphia -and specifically in Le Jardin - a promised and delivered haven.

    Lucystopped by the Loss Prevention office, picked up her room key.

    Adoor to your subconscious, Mr. Costa had called it. A portal to what happenedto you nine years ago.

    Lucyfinished her last room, room 1214, at 3:45.

    Shestepped into the closet, closed the door, sat down. In moments, the darknessembraced her. When she closed her eyes she saw the town of Shanksville,Pennsylvania from above, saw the school on Cornerstone Road, Lake Stonycreek,and the church on Main Street.

    TheDreamweaver had asked her questions, his silken voice floating above her,behind her, around her, like a warm breeze. Her own voice belonged to a littlegirl.

    Whatday is it, Lucy?

    Tuesday.

    Isit morning, afternoon, evening?

    It'smorning. Tuesday morning.

    Whattime?

    Aroundten. I didn't go to school.

    Whynot?

    Mamawas out the night before, and she didn't get up in time.

    Whereare you?

    I amacross the street from the church.

    Areyou alone?

    No.Mama's with me. She is wearing her long leather coat. The one with the rip in theright pocket. She is wearing sunglasses. She asked a lady for a cigarette andthe lady gave her one.

    Whathappened then?

    Therewas a big bang. It was loud. Even the ground shook.

    Whatdid you do?

    Idon't remember exactly.

    Tryto remember. Do you smell anything? Taste anything?

    Itaste milkshake.

    Whatflavor is it?

    Chocolate.But it's warm milkshake. I don't like warm milkshake.

    Whatabout smell?

    Ismell smoke, but not like regular smoke. Not like burning leaves, or logs in afireplace. More like when people burn their plastic garbage bags.

    Whathappens next?

    Istand here for a long time, watching the fire and smoke rise up into the sky.

    Whereis your mother?

    Rightbeside me. Or maybe not.

    Whatdo you mean?

    Someoneis beside me, but I'm not looking at that person. I can't take my eyes off thesmoke over the trees. It is making pretty patterns in the sky.

    Whatkind of patterns?

    Atfirst it looks like the face of Jesus. Then it looks likes birds.

    Whathappens next?

    Ireach up my hand for my mother to take me somewhere. Anywhere but here. I'mscared.

    Doesshe take your hand?

    Itake the person's hand, but as we walk away I realize it can't be my mom.

    Whynot?

    The handis too big. And rough. It is a man's hand.

    Isthere anything else you remember?

    Yes.We get into a car. And there is a new smell. Two new smells.

    Whatare the new smells?

    Adifferent kind of smoke. Different from the burning plastic smell. Like from apipe, I think. A pipe that people smoke. Like men smoke.

    Andwhat else?

    Apples.Empire apples. We have lots of apples in Western Pennsylvania. Especially nearthe fall.

    Doyou remember what else happened that day?

    The fire.The ground shaking. Being scared.

    Whatabout the man? What happened with him?

    Idon't know.

    Whatabout his face? Do you see his face?

    WhenI look at his face it isn't there.

    Whatabout the fire? Do you remember what that was? Do you remember what caused thefire?

    Yes.I remember, but only because I found out later.

    Whatwas it?

    Itwas Flight 93. It was September 11, 2001, and Flight 93 crashed right nearShanksville, Pennsylvania.

    Lucylooked down at her hands. She had been clenching her fists so tightly that shehad eight little red crescents on the palms of her hands. She eased her fistsopen, stepped out of the closet, looked around. For a few crazy moments she didnot know what room she was in. Most people, even people who worked at LeJardin, would be hard pressed to tell the standard guest rooms apart, theironly clues being, perhaps, the view from any given window But Lucy knew everyroom on the twelfth floor. It was her floor.

    Shesmoothed out her uniform, stepped into the bathroom, went through the mentalchecklist in her mind, then checked the entire room.

    Done.

    Sheopened the door, stepped into the hall. Two older men were approaching from theelevator. They were probably with the convention. Everyone on the floor thisweek was with the convention. They nodded to her, smiled. She smiled back,although she didn't feel it inside.

    Whenshe reached the business center on the twelfth floor - really just a smallniche with computer, fax machine and printer - she sensed another guest comingdown the hall. The unwritten rule was that in the hallways, elevators and mostpublic spaces, guests, along with all front-of-the-house personnel, had theright of way. You didn't hide or sidestep from anyone, but if you were any goodat your job you knew how to defer with style.

    Lucystepped into the alcove just as the man passed the door of the business center.She did not get a good look at him, just a glimpse of his dark coat.

    Butshe didn't have to see him. It was not her sense of sight that took the floorfrom beneath her. It was her sense of smell.

    There,beneath the hotel smells of cleaning products and filtered, heated air, wasanother smell, a scent that closed a cold hand over her heart, a smell thatunquestionably trailed behind the man who had just passed her in the hallway.

    Thesmell of apples.

    Shelooked down the hall, and knew that he had come out of one of the rooms. Was it1208? It had to be. She had just cleaned the other two rooms at that end, andthey were empty.

    Lucypushed her cart madly down the hall, caught the service elevator to thebasement. She left her cart in the basement, ran up the steps toward theservice entrance to the first floor. She tried to calm herself as she walkedtoward the lobby. She didn't know what she would do if she confronted the man,or even who she was looking for.

    Shestepped into the northern end of the lobby. There were three men in the lobby,none of them wearing or carrying a dark overcoat. Everyone else was staff.

    Shewent out the side door, onto Sansom Street. The sidewalk was crowded. Men,women, children, people making deliveries, cab drivers. She rounded the corner,looked in front of the hotel. Two bellmen were taking bags out of a limo for anelderly couple.

    Lucy'sheartbeat began to slow. She took a moment, then walked up the drive on theeast side of the hotel.

    Thesmell of apples.

    Ithad to be her imagination. Brought on by going to see that crazy old man. Shewas never going to find out what had happened on those three days. Not really.