“Why are you talking to her?”
Daniel turned.
“What?”
“The old lady.”
Silence.
Daniel stared at him.
“The old lady?”
Derek gestured helplessly.
“Yes. She's been causing problems since last night.”
Daniel looked toward Margaret.
Then back at Derek.
“This is Mrs. Margaret Whitfield.”
Nothing happened for approximately two seconds.
Then everything did.
Chloe's face lost color.
The server from breakfast lowered the tray he was carrying.
The employee who had filmed Margaret slowly put his phone into his pocket.
Derek stared.
“No.”
Daniel's voice became flat.
“She owns this hotel.”
Derek laughed once.
A nervous, disbelieving sound.
“You're lying.”
Nobody answered.
He looked at Margaret.
Then Daniel.
Then Margaret again.
“She is just…”
He stopped.
Margaret stood.
The room was very quiet.
She picked up her old handbag.
“Yes,” she said. “I'm just an old lady.”
Derek's mouth opened.
“An old lady who happens to own the hotel.”
The lobby seemed to contract around them.
Guests were watching now.
Employees too.