
The Rabbit’s Foot
by Sigrid Nunez
HE WAS A DUKE, or an earl—he was some sort of nobility—and not the first of his kind to visit the hotel. Royalty, rock stars, movie stars, rich and famous people from all over the world came to stay there. Some had become familiar faces, returning each time they happened to be in New York. Couples who’d spent their wedding nights at the hotel booked the same room for their anniversaries, and there was a family that got together every Christmas and requested that a tree and decorations for hanging be waiting in their suite when they arrived. As for the English lord, he’d been there once already, a year ago, then as now by himself. It was not uncommon for a guest to sign the register using a false name. Last time, he’d been the Count of Monty Python. This time, he was Lord Sauron.


