Innkeepers wielded near absolute power within our inns, but outside of them, our capacity was very limited. The ad-hal had no such problems. Their power came from within them. They weren’t tethered to any inn, and they only showed up when a problem went from a disaster to a full-blown catastrophe. Some innkeepers went decades without encountering an ad-hal. We knew our regional ad-hal by name and fed him dinner on a regular basis. Except this time, he wasn’t coming over to fanboy over Orro’s cooking.

“If the Assembly refused to grant us the permit, I’m going to appeal,” I said. And I would be very insistent. They would give me that damn permit.

Sean growled under his breath. His opinion of the Assembly wasn’t high.

Each innkeeper was an island unto themselves. We had great autonomy, and since all the members of the Assembly were prominent innkeepers themselves, they jealously guarded that independence. That also meant that assistance was in short supply. We were expected to solve our own issues. However, the Assembly did have the power to block certain guests and entire species from visiting Earth. Technically, they could veto our entire event and there wasn’t much we could do about it.

We met our visitors at the front door.

Mr. Rodriguez gave me a hug and shook Sean’s hand. “Sorry to drop in on you unannounced.”

“You’re always welcome,” Sean told him.

Tony grinned at us. “Hello!”

Neither of the Rodriguezes looked tense. Maybe this wasn’t the permit-denying kind of visit. Or maybe they were just absolutely sure that we would go along with what the Assembly decided.

“Please follow me,” I said. “Sorry about the renovations.”

I led them through the front room past the silent, empty kitchen, into the hallway just under the portrait of my parents. The hallway’s door slid open, and we stepped into another world.

A cavernous chamber lay in front of us, 100 yards long and 60 yards wide. I had expanded the main ballroom until my bones hurt. It was somewhat bare now since we hadn’t settled on the appropriate finishes.

Mr. Rodriguez raised his eyebrows.

We kept walking. On our right, a wide arched entrance led to the new kitchen. Statistics said that an average restaurant kitchen in the US ran around 1,000 sq. ft., but those restaurants didn’t have to accommodate the dietary needs of over a dozen species. Orro’s new kitchen was a 4,000 sq. ft. monster. Half of it was taken up by the culinary equipment, ovens, ranges, and stainless-steel prep tables, and the other half held another 8 long tables specifically for plating. Each of those tables came equipped with a custom-build storage unit sprouting from the ceiling, which contained dinnerware, sauces, syringes, and a variety of mysterious culinary tools.

Orro’s new assistants flittered between the prep tables, furiously chopping and blending something. Orro was trying to finalize the menu.

“An upgrade.” Tony whistled.