" In the Holiday Room, the frozen, blackened drapes were pasted against the window frames. The white tablecloths were so stiff they looked as if they were made of painted wood instead of fabric. Bits of burst balloons lay among the soot-coated silver and glassware on the tables. The room was haunted by ghosts - ghosts of all the New Year's party guests who'd never come. It seemed to wait for them yet. THe room itself could not understand what had happened. It would wait forever, with its silverware and glasses and salt and pepper shakers and icy, immovable tablecloths and napkins. "

― Barbara Cohen , The Innkeeper's Daughter