“That sounds perfect,” Clare says, offering her hand before I can intervene and screw up the arrangements.
Clare and Amelia head outside while I fill out some last-minute paperwork and a check for Amelia’s enrollment. Once I’m finished, I join the two of them.
Amelia has discovered the monkey bars and is hanging upside down on the jungle gym.
“Come on, it’s time to head home.” I grab Amelia from the playset, and she whines. I’m not ready for the waterworks.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry,” Clare says. “I have some snacks in the car.”
Amelia’s eyes light up, and she grabs Clare’s hand as the two of them jog toward our awaiting ride. Douglas stands outside, his back against the vehicle, his phone in hand. He puts his phone down when he sees us approach.
“Good news?” he asks, but I’m sure that Clare’s bright smile is telling enough that it went well.
We climb back into the vehicle, and Clare taps my shoulder once we’re back on the road.
I glance back at her. “Yes?”
“What was that about Europe?” she asks.
It just kind of slipped out in the spur of the moment, trying to fix the disaster that was happening around me type of scenario.
“Please tell me that you have a passport,” I say.
“I do. It’s in my bag back at your house.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Typically, getting a passport, even expedited, would take a couple of weeks.
“You really are taking me to Europe?”
I text my assistant to add Clare and Amelia to the flight itinerary. While I’d mentioned to my assistant to get adjoining rooms in the hotel, I want to verify that Amelia is accounted for on the flight.
Thankfully, Amelia also has a passport. Katelyn took her to Australia for an exotic trip two summers ago, the stamp on her passport evidence of their adventure together.
I doubt Amelia remembers it, but I’m grateful that both women have passports, and I won’t have to postpone the trip.
“Paris, if all goes according to plan,” I say. “I should warn you that we’re going strictly for business, not pleasure.”
Douglas glances at me, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing.
“Of course,” Clare says. “You never told me what you did for a living.”
I suppose I haven’t. “I run Luxenberg Enterprises,” I say.
“The hotel chain?” she squeaks.
I glance back over my shoulder at her. “Yes. Why?”
“You own the Luxenberg Hotel. The one in New York, too?”
“That’s affirmative.” What is she getting at?
“Oh my gosh. Connor, your brother, he’s the same Connor who works at the Luxenberg in the city. Isn’t he?” Her mouth hangs agape.
I’m not seeing the problem. Does she know of him?
“Yes, he’s management for that specific hotel.” I leave off the part where I won’t let him anywhere near the rest of the brand. I’d have rather he lived in some small Podunk town and ran that hotel, not one of our biggest in the country.
She gasps and pulls out her phone.