“Who’s Marcus?”

The elevator chimed.

Brass doors opened.

Marcus Vale stepped into the lobby.

He was fifty-eight now, though I still occasionally saw the twenty-six-year-old assistant manager Thomas had hired during our second year.

Tall.

Silver beginning at his temples.

Charcoal suit.

Ever composed.

Several employees straightened when they saw him.

The concierge almost stood at attention.

Madison noticed.

Marcus crossed the lobby.

Not toward the desk.

Toward me.

“Mrs. Caldwell.”

He looked at my suitcase.

Then at my face.

His expression hardened.

“What happened?”

For the first time that evening, Madison looked uncertain.

“Do you work here?” she asked.

Marcus turned.

“I manage the property.”

Madison recovered immediately.

“Wonderful. Then perhaps you can explain to Mrs. Caldwell that when a reservation is canceled, the hotel isn’t obligated to create a room out of thin air.”

Marcus looked at her.

Then Daniel.

Then me.

“Canceled?”

“Six days ago,” I said.

“By the family reservation account.”

His face became still.

“Mrs. Caldwell, the residence is prepared year-round.”

Daniel frowned.

“What residence?”

Marcus’s eyes remained on me.

“Would you like me to have your luggage taken upstairs?”

Madison stepped forward.

“Wait. What residence?”

I glanced toward the bronze plaque.

She followed my eyes.

Read it.

Her expression changed.

Caldwell.

The name landed slowly.

Marcus noticed.

“I take it,” he said, “that no one explained the ownership structure to you.”

Daniel stared at the plaque.

Then at me.

“Mom?”

I picked up my gloves.

“Marcus, would you ask someone to bring my suitcase?”

“Of course.”

“Which room?” Madison demanded.

Marcus looked at me first.

I nodded.

“The Caldwell residence,” he said.

“What is that?”

“The private top-floor residence retained by the owners.”

Daniel actually took a step backward.

“Owners?”

Marcus’s voice remained perfectly professional.

“Caldwell Alpine Holdings owns Silver Pines Lodge.”

Madison looked at my surname again as though it had betrayed her.

Then slowly:

“You own this hotel?”

“Lodge,” I corrected.

That was petty.

Thomas would have loved it.

Marcus almost smiled.

Madison stared at me.

“How much?”

There it was.

Not How?

Not Why didn’t you tell us?

How much?

I watched Daniel hear it too.

His shoulders sank.

Marcus spoke before I could.

“That isn’t an appropriate question.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“No,” I said. “You were asking me.”

She crossed her arms.

“Well?”

“Enough that I won’t be sleeping in your daughter’s bed.”

Marcus summoned a bellman.

The boy behind the desk looked desperately interested in his keyboard.

I leaned down and kissed Lily.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs.”

“Can I see?”

“Absolutely.”

Madison grabbed Lily’s shoulder.

“We already have plans.”

The little girl’s face fell.