Daniel folded his arms.
“You're seventy-two.”
“Thank you for the update.”
“It's pouring rain.”
“I have owned umbrellas.”
“You're planning something.”
Margaret smiled.
“Not much.”
That was never reassuring.
She chose the following night.
Friday.
Busy enough to create pressure.
Normal enough that management could not claim unusual circumstances.
She told no one at the hotel.
Daniel booked himself separately under his own name for Saturday so he could conduct the official inspection the next day.
Margaret did not book anything.
She wanted to arrive exactly as a tired traveler might arrive.
Without status.
Without warning.
Without anyone preparing a smile.
Friday evening brought one of the heaviest autumn storms Dallas had seen that month.
Rain hammered streets hard enough to overwhelm gutters.
Traffic slowed to a crawl.
Margaret's driver dropped her two blocks from the Aurelia at her insistence.
He protested.
She won.
She carried one old leather handbag, wore flat shoes, a plain dark skirt, and a brown wool coat she had owned for nearly twenty years.
The coat was good quality.
It simply did not advertise itself.
Margaret deliberately left her expensive jewelry at home.
No driver waiting at the entrance.
No assistant.
No corporate car.
No one whispering into the lobby before she arrived.
By the time she walked the final two blocks beneath a small umbrella, wind had turned the umbrella almost useless.
Rain soaked the bottom of her coat.
Her hair was damp.
Water had worked into her shoes.
She looked exactly like what she wanted to look like.