Chapter 8: Five O'Clock
The paperwork arrived at Marcus's lawyer's office at half past two.
At four forty-seven, the signed surrender document came back.
Diane called me in the suite while Lily was drawing at the writing desk — careful pencil lines, something that might have been a rabbit or might have been a house.
"It's done," Diane said.
"Witnessed, dated, legally binding.
The minority share reverts to the Vance Group trust effective immediately.
He's also agreed in writing not to contact any Vance Group investor, partner, or staff member regarding ownership matters without prior written consent from you."
"And Pryce?"
"Her conditional offer on the competitor property collapses without the ownership structure change.
I've notified her firm's legal counsel.
She's not happy, but she has no standing."
"Good."
"Ethan.
Marcus mentioned institutional investors.
He wasn't entirely wrong — there are two who have been making quiet inquiries about liquidity options.
It's not a crisis, but it's worth a proper review in the next quarter."
"I know about them," I said.
"I've known for six months.
I was managing it."
A pause.
"He thought he had information you didn't."
"He thought a lot of things."
"What do you want to do about Harrison?"
I looked at the window.
The afternoon light was long and pale across the older rooftops Sarah had loved.
"Harrison made a serious error," I said.
"He didn't act on the instruction, but he passed it along and said nothing to me.
I want a formal written acknowledgment of that in his file.
No termination.
He's been a good manager for four years and one bad decision shouldn't erase that — but he needs to understand what he risked."
"I'll handle it."
"And Dana."
A brief pause.
"The contempt was her own," I said.
"The instruction she was given was to say the reservation didn't exist.
She chose the rest.
I want her reassigned to a back-office role — no guest contact — for a minimum of ninety days.
After that, her manager can assess whether she's suited to return to front desk."
"Renata?"
"Renata followed someone else's lead and admitted it immediately.
A formal conversation with her supervisor.
Nothing more."
"And Lupita?"
I looked at Lily, still drawing, the rabbit propped beside her pencil case.
"I want Lupita's personnel file reviewed for any outstanding pay review or promotion she may have been passed over for.
Whatever is owed to her, I want it corrected.
And I want a letter in her file from ownership — from me — acknowledging what she did last night."
Diane was quiet for a moment.
"Sarah would have done the same thing," she said.
"I know."
We ended the call.
I sat at the edge of the writing desk, close enough to see what Lily was drawing.
It was the lobby.
She had drawn the sofa where she had slept, and a figure on it with a rabbit.
And near the elevator, a smaller figure with something rectangular in her arms.
"Who is that?" I asked, pointing to the figure near the elevator.
"The nice lady," Lily said.
"With the towels."
"Her name is Lupita."
Lily nodded seriously and wrote the name beneath the figure in careful, uneven letters.
Then she looked up.
"Are we going to see Mama's picture tonight?"
"Yes," I said.
"That's why we came."
She put down her pencil and slid off the chair.
"Can Lupita come?"
May you like
I looked at my daughter for a moment.
"I'll ask her," I said.
