Chương 2
The real reunion had left me hiding beside a refrigerator while my cousin’s credit card declined.
I returned to the ballroom.
People tried not to stare.
They were terrible at it.
A man I did not know suddenly became fascinated by an empty champagne flute as I passed him.
Emily intercepted me near the hallway.
“Private,” she said.
This time I followed her into the small consultation room beside the coat check.
Diane came with us.
Robert remained outside.
Emily shut the door.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked.
There it was.
Not an apology.
An accusation.
I leaned against the edge of the conference table.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”
“You ordered security to remove me.”
“Because I thought you crashed my party.”
“Why would you think that?”
She looked away.
Diane answered for her.
“We haven’t seen you in years, Jake.”
“That doesn’t answer it.”
Emily folded her arms.
“You were standing by the bar in a plain black suit staring at people.”
“I was checking the event.”
“You looked like staff.”
The sentence landed differently than she intended.
I glanced at the closed door.
“Staff aren’t nobodies either.”
Emily’s eyes flickered.
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“You meant it loudly.”
Diane exhaled.
“Can we not turn this into a moral trial?”
I looked at her.
That voice had not changed in twenty years.
When Emily broke my model airplane at twelve, Diane said cousins fought.
When Emily told everyone at Thanksgiving that I had dropped out of college after my parents died, Diane said she was only concerned about me.
When I stopped attending family gatherings, Diane told relatives grief had made me sensitive.
“I’m not putting anyone on trial,” I said.
“I’m trying to run an event.”
Emily’s expression shifted.
“What event problem?”
I hesitated.
It would have been easy to enjoy the next sentence.
That bothered me more than I expected.
“Your guest count is thirty-eight over contract.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“And the card on file declined the additional authorization.”
Diane turned toward her daughter.
“What card?”
Emily’s jaw tightened.
“My card.”
“I thought your father handled the venue.”
“He paid the deposit.”
“And the rest?”
“I handled it.”
Diane stared at her.
“Emily.”
“Mom, please.”
I straightened.
“This isn’t something we need to discuss as family.”
Emily laughed once.
“Oh, now we’re family?”
“I’m saying the hotel doesn’t care who your mother is.”
“That came out nicely.”
“You know what I mean.”
She pressed two fingers against her temple.
“How long do I have?”
“Priya gave you fifteen minutes.”
“Before what?”
“Before we stop additional alcohol service and adjust whatever we legally and operationally can.”
“You’d shut down my party?”
“No.”
The disappointment on her face suggested she had almost preferred that answer.
“We’d enforce the agreement you signed.”
Diane pulled out her phone.
“I’ll call your father.”
“No.”
Emily said it so sharply that both of us looked at her.
“I said no.”
“Your card declined.”
“I know what happened.”
“Then fix it.”
“With what?”
Emily looked at me, then back at her mother.
“Can Jake leave?”
Diane blinked.
“This is his hotel.”
For one dangerous second, I nearly smiled.
Emily caught it anyway.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I pushed away from the table.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
Emily caught my sleeve before I reached the door.
The contact startled both of us.
She released me immediately.
“Wait.”
I turned.
Her face had lost the polished expression she had worn all evening.
For the first time, she looked tired.
Not birthday-party tired.
Something older.
Something practiced.
“Can you give me until dinner service ends?” she asked.
“That’s about forty minutes.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She glanced at Diane.
Her mother’s mouth tightened.
“Emily, what is going on?”
Emily stared at the carpet.
“I need forty minutes.”
I should have said no.
Our policies existed because exceptions became arguments, and arguments became unpaid invoices.
I had spent too many years keeping the Sterling alive to gamble thousands of dollars because a relative asked me to.
But the woman standing in front of me no longer looked like the cousin who had ordered me thrown outside.
She looked cornered.
That did not make her kind.
It did not make her trustworthy.
It only made her human, which was inconvenient.
“Thirty,” I said.
She nodded quickly.
“Thank you.”
“And no additional guests.”
“Fine.”
“No more upgrades.”
“Fine.”
“If accounting can’t authorize the amount in thirty minutes, Priya follows the contract.”
Emily nodded again.
Diane did not.
“You’re really going to nickel-and-dime your own cousin on her birthday?”
The old reflex rose so fast I almost admired it.
I looked at my aunt.
“Forty-eight hundred dollars isn’t a nickel.”
She opened her mouth.
Emily interrupted.
“Mom, stop.”
Diane stared at her daughter as though betrayal had arrived from the wrong direction.
I left them there.
Robert was waiting outside.
He had two drinks in his hands, though I had never known him to drink more than one.
He offered me the untouched bourbon.
“I’m working.”
“So am I, apparently.”
I almost kept walking.
Then he said, “I didn’t know you owned this place.”
I stopped.
“Emily established that pretty thoroughly.”
He winced.
“She shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
“She gets carried away.”
“That’s one description.”
Robert studied the amber liquid in his glass.
“When your father died, I should’ve checked on you more.”
Of all the things I expected that night, this was not one of them.
I looked toward the ballroom.
A server was lighting candles on Emily’s cake.
Someone had restarted the music louder, and a cluster of guests were laughing as if the interruption had already become a story they would tell tomorrow.
“Why are you saying that now?”
Robert rubbed his thumb against the glass.
May you like
“Because I’m standing in your hotel and realizing I don’t know anything about the last ten years of your life.”
Before I could answer, the consultation-room door opened.
