The next came from Marlene, who was picking at her waffle unhappily. It was a coupon for a free dish of ice cream at a store a few blocks away. This shocked Scarlett at first. Marlene tended to have a lot of these kinds of things, but she didn’t share them. Then Scarlett noticed that it was expired. That made a lot more sense.

It was time for the gift that everyone had been waiting for. There was a box on the table, which was passed down, hand to hand, until it reached Scarlett. She already knew what was inside, but it didn’t make it any less exciting. There were many layers of cardboard protection and plastic bagging to get through, but finally, she could see it, tiny and silvery.

“I hope that’s the one you wanted,” her dad said.

It was. She was the last person in her entire school to get a cell phone. Literally. She nodded happily. It was nice to join the rest of the planet.

“And here’s the other part,” her mother said. “Following tradition…”

She passed a jewelry box down the length of the table. Seeing a box like that, most people would have expected a necklace or a bracelet, but Scarlett knew that was not what was inside.

When it reached her, she creaked the box open to reveal a key ring with a silver S dangling from it, along with a single key. A tiny piece of paper, the size of a Chinese fortune cookie fortune, rested at the bottom. It read: EMPIRE SUITE.

“It’s yours now,” her father said. “Take good care of it.”

At age fifteen, each Martin was “given” a room in the hotel to care for. This was not an ancient tradition—it had started with Spencer four years earlier. He had gotten the rough-and-ready Sterling Suite. Lola had the attractive but small Metro Suite. The Empire Suite was something else entirely—the showpiece, and the most expensive of the hotel’s twenty-one guest rooms. It was rarely occupied, except for the occasional honeymoon couple or the lost businessman who couldn’t get a room at the W.

So this was either an honor or a “we don’t actually want you to have to deal with any guests” gesture.

Before Scarlett could even react, her mother was on her feet, sweeping away the grim remnants of breakfast. Spencer was still shoving waffle embers into his mouth when his plate vanished from underneath him.

“We’re just going to go over some of the new cleaning routines,” her dad said. “Marlene, if you want to go…”

It would hardly have been possible for Marlene to leave the room more quickly, at least without the aid of some kind of an engine. It was instantly clear to Scarlett that whatever was about to happen had nothing to do with cleaning. That was just the only topic that could instantly drive Marlene away.

“We all need to have a little talk,” her father said, getting up and sliding the dining room doors tightly shut.