and Mrs. Vernon Tuttle, Topeka, Kansas." Michael printed the letters as fast as he could, trying to ignore the sharp-eyed man behind the marble counter watching every stroke of the pen. When he finished, he looked at what he'd written and wished he could do it over. It looked false; the man was going to know it was a lie."Welcome to the Palmer House, Mr. and Mrs.—" The register book sat on a big revolving plate. The clerk spun it around and read, "Tuttle. From Kansas. How are you folks this morning? Just get in?"His mind went blank. All he could think of to say was, "Fine. Yes."Sydney slid her arm through his and leaned against him. "Tell him about the room, Vern," she said in a soft voice, but loud enough for the desk clerk to hear. "Tell him what we'd like."Miehael cleared his throat. "We just got married," he recited. "We would like—""Well, congratulations! Isn't that nice.""Yes. Thank you," he said, thrown off his stride. He had to start over. "We just got married, and we would like the honeymoon suite, but we don't have reservations." He let his breath out slowly, listening to the echo of the words while he watched the clerk's face for signs of disbelief.
