Shelly sees the ghost before Grandma does. The two of them are sitting in the restaurant. Grandma has a pot of orange pekoe and Shelly mint. The concierge called the ghost a her, but when one of the brass-doored elevators dings and nobody walks out, Shelly looks over and sees a spectral boy peering at her from inside. He looks about her age and he’s dressed nicely, but in clothes that look old-fashioned—shorts and a blazer, his socks pulled up to his knees. When a bellhop pulling a cart of luggage walks into the elevator with him, the ghost reaches up and slides a hand over the inside wall.

Shelly can’t see inside the car, but the dismayed expression on the bellhop’s face and the gleeful look on the ghost’s make it pretty easy to guess that he just hit a bunch of buttons.

“Grandma,” Shelly says, reaching out to tap her arm, “it’s a kid.”

Grandma looks up from stirring milk into her tea, following Shelly’s gaze to the elevator just as the doors close on the exasperated bellhop. She snorts. “Up to mischief, I see,” she says. “You have to respect that in a boy his age—he’s keeping himself entertained.”

“You mean he’s bored,” says Shelly, grinning. She’d love to push an entire bank of elevator buttons. Being a ghost has its advantages.

Grandma nods. “The hotel and its ghost story are both old. Got me thinking that if I was the ghost of this place, I’d be just about ready to move on now. There’s only so much unfinished business you can cling to. Besides, I’d be bored, wouldn’t you?”

Shelly takes a sip of her tea. “I’m already bored of sitting here. Do you think the manager will actually talk to us?”

“Someone will come,” Grandma says. She’s been doing this since before Shelly’s mother was Shelly’s age. When she says something is going to happen, it’s easy to believe her. “They won’t want us living in their lobby. Eventually it’ll be easier to send someone down than to have us here.”

They have to wait, though. So long that a server comes and refills the hot water in both their teapots. Shelly spends the wait watching the ghost. The hotel staff avoid the boy’s elevator when they can. There’s a whole bank of them to choose from, so if you know which one is haunted, it’s easy to avoid. The ghost looks disappointed every time someone doesn’t get in with him.

But Grandma is right. After 40 minutes, a man in a neatly pressed suit with an official little name tag and nice hair comes to speak with them. He’s carrying a book and smiling—polite but obviously ready to move on fast.