HEY, DAD. DAD, THERE’S A POOL. A BIG POOL. AND GUESS WHAT I DID. YOU KNOW what I did? I put my head under. And Jeff showed me how to. I put my head all the way under. And Dad. I was swimming, Dad. I was swimming.

TIM

TIM

TRAFFIC. A BABYSITTER MIX-UP. A SNAG IN THE HOUSE TOUR PREPARATIONS. ANY of these seemed reasonable. But a tour glitch was the most likely explanation. Maybe something to do with where to place a vase of flowers. Something to do with beauty, something she couldn’t help but do, evidenced by the care she’d taken in choosing this room. Getting it right was important to her.

Maybe she missed the stop. (As if she’d be taking the subway.) Maybe the titanium battery in her watch wore out and she wasn’t aware of the time. Maybe she bumped into an old friend and was forced to make small talk on a street corner just as the brakes went out on a city bus, mowing down thirteen pedestrians, including her.

Ridiculous.

Then again, maybe not.

Anything was possible.

Well, not anything.

Yes, anything.

If I could be where I was, waiting for her, then yes, anything was possible.

Or maybe . . .

A last-minute bikini wax.

Or . . .

A pigeon pooped on her shoulder and she went back home to change.

Or . . .

Outside the Pink Pussycat Boutique, a chauffeured town car with tinted windows idled, while inside, a woman of astonishing class and style picked out a discreet and expensive battery-operated sex toy . . .

Or . . .

Maybe she got lost. Maybe she changed her mind. She wasn’t coming. But a person didn’t book this kind of room and then not show. Maybe she was already here, hiding. Maybe it was a cruel joke. Maybe the Infinity was filled with men like me, all waiting for her to arrive to indulge in their weekends. Maybe she was watching it all from a command center in the basement, a bank of television monitors displaying images from hidden cameras. I was being watched! How many times had my mother said it? “Always behave as if your ancestors are watching.”

“Why?”

“Because very likely they are.”

Well, then, Grandma and Grandpa were having a fine time right about now.

What did I know? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know what I knew. Oh, wait—I knew one thing. She was late.

Just breathe.

How late? I’d have to do the math.

Breathe, you dummy.

I double-checked the small, sleek digital clock at the side of the bed—my God, what a bed—and yes, I was right, she was late. Four minutes late.

KATE

KATE

THE BOYS AND I WERE HAVING A LITTLE DOWNTIME IN OUR SUITE WHEN JEFF knocked on the door. He was dressed in jeans and a blazer. He smelled of cologne. Darla was behind him, holding her rainbow-colored clipboard pressed to her chest.