From Bad to Wurst by Maddy Hunter Page B

black hole. When I was holding Astrid’s hand, I didn’t see the future.”
    She lifted her gaze to my face, fear rampant in her eyes. “I saw nothing at all.”
    Mom dropped me off at my door.
    â€œDo you want me to come inside with you, Em? I could run a hot bath or rub your feet or get you a snack out of the minibar.” A hint of excitement crept into her voice. “I don’t know how the treats are organized in the minibar, but I’ll bet no one takes the time to arrange them properly.”
    Our boutique hotel maintained a certain European charm by providing us with actual door keys rather than key cards, but the downside was, if we didn’t return the hardware at the end of our stay, they’d tack an added fee onto our bill. I wasn’t running the show here, but in this age of keyless ignitions and thumbprint entry locks, room keys seemed almost a little too retro to be practical.
    As I inserted my key into the doorknob, Mom rubbed her hands together, champing at the bit to get inside. When I heard a click, I turned the knob and eased the door open.
    â€œThanks for the offer, Mom, but I’m good. Really. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Dinner’s in less than an hour, so go have a drink. Shmooze. Enjoy yourself. Etienne will be up in a few minutes, so I’ll be just fine until tomorrow…when…when I’ll look forward to hanging out with you”—I inhaled a steadying breath—“All. Day. Long.”
    She hesitated at the threshold. “You’re sure? Because if you need me, I’ll gladly miss supper.”
    I gave her a hug. “I’m fine. Thanks for all your help, and I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”
    She craned her neck to peek inside the room. “If you’d like that stack of magazines on the desk organized, it wouldn’t take me a minute to—”
    â€œIf you can hold out until tomorrow, I’ll be happy to have you come in and organize to your heart’s content. All right?”
    â€œYou bet.” She shivered with delight. “Would you look at me?” She shoved her sleeve toward her elbow to show me her forearm. “I’ve got goose bumps just thinking about it. You run along and rest, then, and call if you need me for anything. Anything at all.”
    After closing the door, I headed immediately for the desk where Etienne’s leather messenger bag was sitting. I unsnapped the main flap, removed a sheaf of documents from the first compartment, and found the page I was looking for on the very top. I scanned the sheet for the information I needed, repeated the information aloud to reinforce my memory, and headed back out the door and down the corridor until I arrived at the room I was looking for. It was pretty handy that we were on the same floor.
    I knocked on the door and waited.
    And waited.
    I heard no telltale sounds indicating the room was occupied, but I knew for a fact that someone was inside and standing at the security peephole, looking out at me.
    I knocked again. “Open up. I know you’re in there. I can see your shadow at the base of the door.”
    Whispering. Shushing. Then silence.
    I checked my watch. “If you don’t head down to dinner within the next ten minutes, you’ll probably have to wait in a really long line at the buffet station, so I’m going to stay right here and wait you out.”
    More whispers. Footsteps shuffling on the carpet. Heavy breathing. An odd crinkling sound.
    I looked down to find a small rectangle of paper inching its way into the hall from beneath the door. I snatched it up. A personal check with my name listed as the payee. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want your money, Nana.”
    â€œBut it’s a million dollars.”
    â€œOpen the door.”
    The lock clicked. The door opened.
    Nana and Tilly stood on the other side—Nana looking physically diminished and