Chapter 1
“Take your tired little girl somewhere cheap.”
The receptionist said it with a smile.
That smile was what stopped me from answering immediately. It was polished, practiced, and almost warm. Anyone watching from across the lobby might have thought she was helping us.
My six-year-old daughter slept against my shoulder.
Lily had spent nearly three hours stranded at the airport after our driver failed to arrive. Her stuffed rabbit was trapped between us, one worn ear pressed against my chin.
In my other hand, I carried red roses.
They had been fresh when we left home. Now the paper wrapping was torn, and several stems had bent beneath the weight of our bags.
They were for my wife.
Sarah had been dead for three years.
“I have a reservation,” I said. “Ethan Vance. Corporate block. It was confirmed two weeks ago.”
The receptionist looked at my coat before looking at her screen.
Her name tag read Celeste.
She tapped several keys.
“Nothing here.”
I shifted Lily carefully. She made a small unhappy sound without opening her eyes.
“Could you check again?”
A second woman approached the desk. Her tag said Brooke.
“Complaining won’t produce a luxury suite,” she said.
“I’m asking you to locate a reservation.”
“We’re full.”
I took out my confirmation email and turned the phone toward them.
Celeste barely glanced at it.
“Those emails are automatically generated.”
“It includes a confirmation number.”
“Sir, there’s a gala downstairs. We have important guests arriving.”
She said important while looking past me at a man getting out of a black car.
I looked down at Lily.
There were things I could have said. Names I could have given. One sentence could have changed the temperature behind that desk.
I wanted to hear what happened before they knew.
“Please,” I said. “My daughter has had a difficult day.”
Brooke folded her arms.
“Then you should have planned better.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
Neither woman recognized me.
Eleven years earlier, Sarah and I had mortgaged our house to buy this hotel. The Grand Regent had been failing then. Half the rooms were closed, the boiler needed replacing, and the bank expected us to give up within a year.
Sarah had stood in this same lobby with paint on her sleeves and said we could make people feel welcome before we could afford to make the place beautiful.
Now there were seven hotels.
She had died before the last one opened.
Every year, on the anniversary of her death, Lily and I brought roses to the Grand Regent. We placed them beneath Sarah’s portrait and told her what had happened since our last visit.
Last year, Lily had announced that she could tie her shoes.
This year, she had brought a drawing.
“Call the general manager,” I said.
“He’s busy.”
“Then tell him Ethan Vance is here.”
Celeste’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not interrupting a gala because someone wants a free upgrade.”
A housekeeper stepped out of the service corridor carrying folded towels. She paused when she saw Lily.
Her name tag read Lupita.
“Does your little girl need somewhere to sit?” she asked.
Her voice was gentle enough that my anger loosened a fraction.
“We’re trying to find our room.”
I explained the confirmation. Lupita looked toward the desk.
“Did you check the secondary executive block?”
Celeste stopped moving.
“I checked the reservations.”
“The secondary block,” Lupita repeated. “Sometimes those bookings don’t show in the main list.”
Brooke gave her a hard look.
“Go upstairs, Lupita.”
“I’m only asking—”
“This has nothing to do with housekeeping.”
Lupita’s shoulders drew inward.
I had seen enough.
“Thank you,” I told her.
She nodded, but she did not leave. Her eyes stayed on Lily.
I carried my daughter to a sofa near the fireplace. I laid her down slowly, tucked the rabbit beneath her arm, and covered her with my coat.
Lupita placed a folded towel beneath Lily’s head.
“May I bring her some water when she wakes?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I set the roses beside the sofa and called Owen Mercer, the general manager.
He answered before the second ring.
“Mr. Vance?”
At the desk, Celeste went still.
“Come to the lobby,” I said.
“Of course. Are you already here?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t informed.”
“That’s something we need to discuss.”
I looked toward the reception desk.
“We also need to discuss how your staff treats the owner of this hotel.”
Brooke’s arms dropped to her sides.
Celeste stared at me, then at my daughter, then at the confirmation email still open in my hand.
I ended the call.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Celeste came around the desk.
“Mr. Vance, there seems to have been a misunderstanding.”
“Please stay where you are.”
She stopped.
I did not want apologies delivered at Lily’s bedside. I wanted her to sleep.
Lupita stepped back, as if afraid she had done something wrong by helping us.
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” I told her.
The private elevator opened.
Owen crossed the lobby quickly, straightening his jacket as he came. I had met with him in boardrooms and hotel restaurants. His reports were always excellent. Guest satisfaction was supposedly improving. Staff turnover, according to his last presentation, was under control.
He slowed when he saw the sofa.
His gaze moved over Lily beneath my faded coat, the damaged roses, and Lupita standing with the empty towel cart.
Then he looked at Celeste and Brooke.
May you like
Finally, he faced me.
Every trace of color left his face.
