About the same

You know the door has to be somewhere on the wall by the bookcase, but there is nothing there.

"Here Mr. Hawkfeather." Mrs. Naylor's small hand rests on your back as she leans past you and depresses a small section of the paneling that you might not have noticed if she hadn't shown you. "I have the same setup in my rooms." She explains, removing her hand suddenly when she realizes it is still on your back. "The door slides into a pocket behind the bookshelf." She adds when you fail to respond.

Why you had been so distracted by the warmth of her hand just under your shoulder blade is a topic for later consideration. You are in a battle of will with the Headmistress, and you'd better get your mind back on the game.

"That's even better than a lock." You get out, as the door slides smoothly to the side. Hopefully she'll attribute your momentary distraction as admiration for the craftsmanship needed to construct this concealed door. "I guess that's another example of how things are different here at the Pink Rose."

"Yes, Mr. Hawkfeather." She smiles at your praise of her alma mater. "You'll find that there are a lot of things that are more than they appear here at the academy." That smile could be even more of a distraction than her hand had been if you were not ready for it. You step through the opening, ducking your head slightly to avoid hitting the top of the frame. The door was designed for the female occupants of the building and is just barely big enough for your broad shoulders to pass through without turning. When Ms. Naylor daintily steps through the same door you realize how out of place you are in this school.

The bedroom has the same tall windows as the office with thick lead glazing that lets in the afternoon light when the matching blue-velvet curtains are pulled open and tied back. The chamber reminds you of your grandmother's bedroom in the old family home in West Virginia, complete with a marble topped bedtable and a porcelain basin and pitcher sitting on the dresser.

You are relieved to see the queen sized bed with it's sturdy maple four-poster frame that matches the dresser on the far wall. After ducking through the doorway you were afraid the bed would also be made for a five foot spinster. Except for the fact that it is covered with a quilted bedspread that looks as old as your grandmother, you are more than pleased with the large, sturdy bed.

"Nice bed." Ms. Naylor agrees with your silent assessment, and then turns away quickly as you move to her side. Above the dresser, a mirror with a gilded frame hangs about a foot too low for your face, near the window a small table holds an empty vase.

"This is alright." You offer cautiously, "is there a bathroom?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Hawkfeather." Ms. Naylor turns back to you brushing dust from her skirt. "The bathrooms were renovated soon after Ms. Marshall had to retire, you'll like it." Secretly pleased that the abrasive Headmistress is starting to accept your decision to room here at the heart of the campus, you follow her to the far end of the room where she opens the bathroom door.

The bathroom is bright and equipped with a modern looking toilet, a large marble counter and deep porcelain sink under a large well-lit mirror and best of all a walk-in shower with a man-sized sliding door. The neatly grouted tiles on the floor complete the look.

"Do the cottages have anything this nice?" You ask with a dimpled grin.

"No," concedes Ms. Naylor with a sigh, "I'll arrange for maintenance to get this cleaned up."