Chapter 3 - Meltdown in Marble
For ten full seconds, nobody in the Calloway party breathed.
Then the twins began wrestling over a leather brochure stand, knocking it to the limestone floor with a deafening crash. The sound seemed to shatter Evelyn’s temporary paralysis.
"That is impossible!" Evelyn screeched, slamming her open palm onto the pristine counter. Several wealthy couples near the fireplace turned their heads in sharp disapproval. "My son booked this! He paid for it! You call your manager right now! You do not turn away paying guests because of some spiteful, deranged woman who isn't even here!"
"Mom, stop," Ethan hissed under his breath, grabbing her sleeve. "Mom, please, everyone is looking."
"I don't care who is looking!" Evelyn rounded on him, her eyes bulging. "Fix this, Ethan! Tell this girl who you are! Pull out your card and show her!"
Ethan’s face went pasty white. He pulled out his wallet with trembling fingers, extracting his silver credit card—a card that carried an eight-thousand-dollar limit and was already sitting at seventy-nine hundred.
"Look," Ethan said to Naomi, his voice cracking slightly. "There's obviously been a domestic dispute. My wife... she overreacted to something minor. Can we just reinstate the booking? Charge it to this."
Naomi didn't even touch the card. She glanced at the monitor. "I’m afraid that isn't possible, Mr. Calloway. As Juniper House operates at ninety-eight percent capacity during autumn peak season, the five lodge suites and the Grand Valley Villa were immediately released to our automated waitlist upon cancellation. Three of the suites have already been rebooked by guests arriving from Denver."
"They what?!" Chloe shrieked from the couches, dropping her diaper bag. "Where are my kids supposed to sleep?! We drove four hours in that cramped van! Ethan, you promised us a private plunge pool!"
"I... I can take whatever rooms you have left," Ethan stammered, ignoring his sister as panic took full control of his lungs. "Give us two standard rooms. Anything."
"Certainly," Naomi said, tapping her screen. "We have two executive king rooms available on the lower terrace. The walk-in rate for tonight, including peak surge fees and local resort taxes, is fourteen hundred and fifty dollars per room, per night. For the four-night stay, that will be eleven thousand six hundred dollars, plus a two-thousand-dollar incidentals deposit."
She slid the electronic card reader across the counter.
Ethan stared at the glowing keypad as if it were a venomous snake. His throat worked silently. He had less than four hundred dollars in available credit. His personal checking account held eighty-two dollars and sixteen cents. Every mortgage payment, every family dinner, every luxury vacation for the past half-decade had been quietly funded by my software consultancy firm. Ethan’s entire illusion of wealth had been an elaborate stage play, and I had just turned off the power to the theater.
"Ethan?" Evelyn demanded, her voice rising an octave. "What are you waiting for? Swipe the card!"
"I... Mom, the daily limit on this card..." Ethan lied weakly, his hands visibly shaking. "It might flag for fraud if I do an eleven-thousand-dollar transaction without calling the bank first."
"Then call the bank!" Chloe snapped, her toddler now screaming at the top of her lungs. "Greg, do something! Why are you just standing there?"
"Because I didn't want to come in the first place," Greg muttered, staring at the floor with his arms crossed.
"Ethan," Evelyn commanded, gripping his arm so hard her knuckles turned white. "Call Clara. Call her right now and tell her to put the money back. Tell her if she doesn't fix this immediately, I will make sure you divorce her without a single red cent!"
Naomi cleared her throat softly. Two large, broad-shouldered men in tailored dark suits with discrete security lapel pins had materialized quietly near the entrance of the lobby.
May you like
"Mr. Calloway," Naomi said, her voice dropping into that chillingly polite register reserved for removing vagrants from five-star establishments. "If you are unable to provide an authorized payment method, I must ask your party to vacate the reception area. We have arriving guests waiting."
***
