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The clouds are back, the skies tipping the pitcher. We make a run for it but he’s parked far enough out that by the time we make it into the foyer, we’re soaked.
Water drips into my eyes. “We can’t stay here like this.”
“Instead, you want to inundate my leather seats?”
If Yannick glares, I can’t see it. “I’ll call an Uber if you want.”
“Then the car will still be available when we get back. Perfect.”
Paper towels are pressed into my hands. “Maybe these will help a bit,” a masculine voice says. I wipe my face and look into the smiling face of the receptionist, who has come out from behind the welcome desk.
“Can I help you with anything else?”
“Dry clothes?” Yannick asks.
With an assessing gaze, the receptionist says, “The shop carries T-shirts and flip-flops, but I don’t think they can outfit the rest of you.”
“We’ll leave, change, then come back in more suitable clothes.” I brandish my phone. “Three minutes to takeoff.”
Yannick grabs all the paper towels and wads them into a ball, then does a perfect overhand shot into the trash barrel—the perfect segue to our exit.
We go to my hotel. Fortunately for Yannick, we can wear the same size, so he borrows jeans, a T-shirt, and dry socks. When we return, the rain is as heavy as ever, but the driver drops us off under the canopy, so we arrive dry. I start to make a comment, but a different receptionist makes that pointless. We walk past but the woman calls us back.
“May I help you?” Not really a question, the way she lobs the remark at us.
I freeze while Yannick whirls in her direction. “We know the room number but thank you.” His voice is polite.
She fishes out two badges and holds them in the palm of her hand. “You’ll need these to access the floors.”
“Forgot. Sorry.”
Yannick darts forward, grabs the badges with a muttered thanks, and heads toward the bank of elevators, tossing a badge at me.
When we reach Maman’s room, the bed has been raised. She watches TV while talking on the phone.
When we walk in, she ends the call and mutes the box.
“You’re looking better, Maman,” I say, then kiss her cheek.
Yannick pulls over the two guest chairs, dropping into one like this is his living room.
“Who were you talking to?” I try to keep it casual.
“Angélique. She is so distressed that I am leaving Vancouver.”
“You’re like a second mother to her, Aunt Louisette.”
Maman preens a bit.
My voice harsh, I say, “Fortunately, she has a mother, so she should be able to manage without you.”
Maman flashes me a worried glance. “She said you took her key, JL.”
“The house is going on the market. There’s no reason for her to be in there.” I don’t want to tell her about Angélique’s attempted theft.
“You don’t have a say.” Her voice is weak as she struggles to get the words out.
Trying to avoid another incident, I hold out my hands placatingly. “I have a say. I am the legal co-owner of the house.”
