“Um, maybe,” I say. “I’m just reading about Rebecca Miades.”

“Oh, Rebecca.” His face creases into a smile. “She’s, like, my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” I wasn’t expecting that. “Er…why? What’s she like?”

“She’s so sweet and good, you know what I mean? And her work is amazing,” he adds earnestly. “She really helps the guests find spiritual enlightenment. She’s a qualified angel-therapy practitioner, if you were interested in that? Or, she can do card readings, aura readings….”

“Perhaps. She looks really attractive,” I add, trying to prod him into further revelations. “That hair!”

“Oh, her hair is her glory.” He nods. “She colors it every year. Blue…red…green…We told her she should change her name to Rainbow!” He gives a boyish laugh.

“So, could I see her, do you think?” I try to sound casual. “Make an appointment or something?”

“Sure!” he says. “She’s based at the New Age Center. She’s been away, but she might be back by now. If you go that way, one of the spirit mentors will be able to help you. Through there”—he points at the bead curtain—“all the way through the seating area, and you’ll find the New Age Center in back.”

“OK. Well, maybe I’ll stroll along. Thanks.”

As Seth walks off, I glance furtively around the lobby. Mum, Minnie, and Janice are looking at a display of dream catchers. Suze is still talking to the woman at the front desk. Danny is following a lady in a white uniform toward the Spa Center.

I think I might pop along and see this Rebecca for myself. Just quietly. Just me. As I stand up, I feel a spasm of nerves and firmly tell myself off. There’s no need to be nervous. This is only some woman from Dad’s past. No big deal.

With a musical clatter of beads, I push my way through the curtain. I’m standing in a large, airy area furnished with sofas and chairs, in which a few people are sitting, reading newspapers and magazines. There are palms in pots, a huge skylight, and a sign reading NEW AGE CENTER, and I’m about to head in that direction when a pair of shoes suddenly catches my attention. They’re sticking out from a large wicker armchair—a pair of scuffed suede men’s loafers. I know those shoes—I know them. There’s an elbow on the arm of the chair too. A very, very familiar elbow, just a little more tanned than usual.

“Dad?” My voice rockets out of me before I can stop it. “Dad?”

The tanned elbow instantly jerks off the arm of the chair. The shoes move. The chair is pushed back with a scrape on the terra-cotta tiled floor. And the next moment I’m staring at Dad. Right here. In the flesh. My missing dad.

“Dad?” I almost yell again.

“Becky! Darling!” He seems as shell-shocked as I am. “What— How on earth— Who told you I was here?”

“No one! We’ve been looking for you! We’ve been tracking you! We’ve been— Do you realize—” My whirling thoughts won’t quite make it into words. “Dad, do you realize—”