By noon, Vanessa had found her way to my suite.
She knocked twice, then entered as soon as I opened the door.
“I can’t believe you let the manager embarrass me like that.”
I moved aside and let the door close.
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
“You could have told me you owned the place.”
“You could have asked me before giving away my room.”
She crossed her arms.
“I was trying to make my friends feel welcome.”
“You were free to arrange something for them with your own reservation.”
“You’re making it sound like I stole from you.”
“You told the front desk I’d approved a change I knew nothing about.”
She looked toward the terrace.
“I assumed you’d say yes.”
“Then you knew you needed an answer.”
For a second, she seemed to consider an apology. Instead she said, “Well, you got your way.”
“I got my room back. Those are different things.”
She looked around, taking in the view.
“Must be nice to own a place like this and pretend you’re just some ordinary guest.”
I took a breath.
“Vanessa, I’d have been just as entitled to keep this reservation if I were a schoolteacher who’d saved for ten years. Ownership doesn’t decide whether you have to respect somebody.”
She went quiet.
I let the silence last.
At last she said, “I shouldn’t have told reception you said yes.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I’m not going to apologize for wanting my friends to have a good time.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
She seemed thrown by that.
“I’m asking you to take responsibility for the decision you made about me.”
Vanessa stared at the carpet. When she looked up, she was less angry and more uncertain.
