Ethan never announced his visits to his hotels. He dressed plainly, arrived alone, and simply observed. He always said that corporate reports showed you numbers, but the way staff treated a total stranger showed you their true character.
“Can I speak with the general manager?” he asked.
Patricia’s face hardened. “The general manager is occupied. I am not going to disturb him just because you can’t find your booking.”
Right then, a woman in her mid-50s stepped out from a side service door, carrying a stack of fresh white towels. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a simple braid, and she wore the maroon vest of the housekeeping staff. Her nametag read: Lupita.
Lupita took one look at the sleeping child, the bent stems of the roses, the exhaustion weighing down Ethan’s shoulders, and the expressions on the receptionists’ faces. She set the towels down on a nearby luggage cart.
“Excuse me, sir,” Lupita said softly, stepping closer. “Is everything alright?”
“It seems my reservation isn’t showing up in their main system.”
Lupita looked over at Patricia. “Did you check the corporate holding block?”
Patricia clenched her jaw. “I already checked.”
“The secondary corporate tab,” Lupita insisted gently. “Executive bookings sometimes don’t propagate to the main front-desk screen on the first search.”
Karla rolled her eyes. “Lupita, go back to your floor. This isn’t your department.”
Lupita didn’t raise her voice. “No, it isn’t. But a tired father with a sleeping little girl is my business if he’s being left to stand out here in the lobby.”
Annoyed, Patricia aggressively hit a few more keys. Four seconds passed. Then, the color drained from her face.
