The silence in the lobby changed. A couple near the elevators stopped talking. Renata’s face reddened as Clare clicked through another menu, and within seconds the reservation appeared: Whitfield, executive category, ninth-floor suite, prepaid through corporate.
Clare went pale. “There it is. The system must have—”
“The system didn’t refuse to look twice,” Dolores said quietly.
Sophie stirred, opening one sleepy eye. “Daddy, are we there?”