An ordinary older woman having a bad night.
The Aurelia rose above the street in pale limestone and glass.
The building had once made Margaret proud.
She had personally approved the marble in the lobby because the first samples felt too cold.
The floral arrangements were supposed to change twice a week.
The chandeliers had been designed by a small workshop in Italy.
The property had opened eleven years earlier and quickly become one of the company's best-performing hotels.
Margaret walked through the revolving doors.
Warm air touched her face.
The lobby smelled of cedar, lilies, and expensive coffee.
A pianist played quietly near the bar.
Several well-dressed guests sat in deep velvet chairs.
Margaret crossed the marble toward the reception desk.
Behind it stood a young woman wearing an immaculate navy uniform.
Her name tag read CHLOE BENNETT.
Chloe looked up.
Her eyes moved first to Margaret's wet hair.
Then the coat.
Then the old handbag.
Then the damp shoes.
Only afterward did she look at Margaret's face.
Margaret noticed.
“Good evening,” she said. “Do you have a room available tonight?”
Chloe's fingers continued typing.
“We're fully booked.”
Margaret glanced toward the quiet lobby.
“Nothing at all?”
“No.”
“Any category?”
“We're fully booked.”
The answer came faster this time.
Margaret nodded.
“All right.”
She could have ended the test there.
She already knew the property was not fully booked.
Daniel had shown her the occupancy report that afternoon.
Sixty-eight percent projected.
Plenty of rooms.
But a single lie could theoretically have an explanation.