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“Seline, yes. I remember. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“I can show you to your uncle’s suite if you would like to shower and change before dinner?”

“My uncle’s what now?”

“His room. It’s much larger than the others, and given we have some bookings this weekend and were unsure how long you might be staying, we thought it would be best to set you up in there.”

“I won’t be staying too long. I’m just here to…” It’s maybe not the best idea to tell her exactly why I came. “Sort some things out.”

She nods and smiles, gesturing toward the right.

“If you’ll follow me.”

I let her lead me down toward the main stairs, but instead of going up, she slips down beside them to open a door set underneath.

“Jack’s room is under the stairs?” I ask as she turns the ornately decorated gold knob. You would think I would remember that. Except, there was probably no reason for me to be going into Uncle Jack’s room when I was a kid.

“It is. Was. Sorry. That will take some getting used to.”

She pushes open the door, and it’s nothing like what I was expecting. The door might be set under the stairs, but it’s just where the entry is. A coat rack built into a wall greets us, with an antique mirror speckled by age reflecting the bags under my eyes from the long drive. I thought I handled it well, but my face disagrees.

She turns right at the rack, and I follow into a wide-open space. The odd long window I had seen when parking out back is right above where a gold metal-framed bed is set up with fresh white linens and far too many pillows for a single person to ever need. But I guess they set it up for me like it’s a hotel room and hotels always have way too many pillows.

“We’ve reserved a table for you for dinner. Seating is at six.”

“Seating?”

“Yes, we have a set four-course menu. I don’t remember you having any allergies. Is that correct?”

“Nope. I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

“Good. Chef Remigius is making your uncle’s favorite dessert tonight.”

“ChefRemigius?”

“Our dessert chef. Hmm, I expect you two will have lots to talk about after dinner service. The staff may be nervous, but I’m excited to see what you two make of this place.”

So Remigius is a chef. My uncle left half of this place to a chef on his staff. I wonder why. Could I even ask this Remigius, though? Would he tell me? Maybe it’s one of those situations where some young person cons an old guy into leaving them all his money? I let out a small laugh and shake the thought away. I’ve watched way too many movies over the last year.

“Umm, thanks, Seline. I’ll see you at six then.”

“It’s good to have you here. Your uncle would be happy you came. He always said you’d be back here one day.”

“He did, huh?”

She nods, offering that same sweet, knowing smile before leaving me to my uncle’s room.

There’s not a lot to the space. It’s simple but cozy with a large desk against the far-right wall, and around the corner of the coat rack, there’s another door leading to the bathroom. I pull my bag along with me, locking it before turning on the water.

Thankfully, the water pressure in this place is good, but I doubt the heat is continuous, so I stay just long enough for the heat to ease the ache in my shoulder, if only a little.

Showered and changed, I finger through a few papers on Uncle Jack’s desk. It’s mostly old invoices and a few past check-in diaries. Judging by these books, I don’t know how the lawyer valued this place so high. With numbers like these, they have to be barely breaking even. Or it costs less to run this place than I think. I check the time. Not long now. I should head down for dinner. The hotel was eerily quiet when I arrived, but now the halls echo with conversations and laughter.

Seline waits for me by the dining room door and smiles that easy smile of hers when she sees me.

“Right this way, Mr. Bux?—”

“Nate is fine,” I say, and she nods and leads me toward a table near the back.