“Are you Clara, ma’am?” the young man asked politely. “Your belongings have been moved to your new room. Three-fourteen. Here is your key.”
My MIL stared at him.
“My what?”
“Your room, ma’am. Down the hall.”
The color drained from her face. She turned to Martin, waiting.
“Talk to your wife.”
Martin looked at me as if he’d never seen me before.
“Emily,” he said quietly, “what did you do?”
“I made a few changes,” I said. “That’s all.”
Clara stood up so fast that the chair scraped across the floor.
“This is unbelievable. UNBELIEVABLE!”
She snatched the key card and walked off toward the elevators, her sandals slapping against the tile.
Martin sat there, frozen, holding his coffee.
“What did you do?”
“We’ll talk on the boat,” I told him.
I stood and gathered Ben onto my hip. Dorah reached for my free hand. Noah held onto my sundress.
