She was also puzzled by their new friend Colin, the costume party, and his mother’s apartment on the 8th floor.

Aunt Evie had said it was a fancy hotel even though it didn’t look that way. The sofas in the library were well worn, as were the carpets in the dining room, the drapes in their suite were red velvet, elegant but also ancient. But the party at Colin’s mother’s apartment had convinced Tess that it was in fact an upscale hotel. 5 Star for sure. Maybe 4.

When they woke up the next day, it was pouring, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. Aunt Evie had looked it up on her iPhone and the weather channel said it was also raining buckets again in Berlin. Actually, it didn’t say “buckets.” Aunt Evie had added that part for effect when she told Tess and Max. She wasn’t sure if their parents were going to make it today. Not even because of the weather in Berlin—but London was so windy and wet, there was talk that Heathrow might be shut down for the night if the storm kept up. As if in punctuation, there was a hint of lightning flashing out the window of the dining room, lighting up the dark gray sky. Max counted one . . . two . . . and didn’t make it to three before thunder seemed to almost rattle the building.

“Oh, my,” said Aunt Evie. “I’m glad we all decided to sleep in.”

Aunt Evie wanted to know what they’d done last night after she’d gone to bed.

Max looked at Tess who was excellent at telling stories and leaving out parts that might make people nervous but leaving in parts that were true.

“Max made a friend,” said Tess.

If you’d asked Max, he would have said that Tess had made a friend. But he let her continue.

But she corrected herself. “Max and I made a friend,” she said. “Colin. Colin Sanborn,” said Tess, as she knew Aunt Evie liked them to know a person’s first and last name. “Strange. It’s the same name as the hotel,” Tess said to Aunt Evie. “In fact, he lives in the hotel,” Tess added. “All year-round.”

“I’ve always thought it would be lovely to live in a hotel,” said Aunt Evie dreamily. “Your bed would be made every morning. Leave your dry cleaning outside the door and magically it would come back to you the next day. If you went out, a hotel operator would take a message for you. You’d have a little box behind the reception desk with your messages in it and any hand delivered packages. You could pick up the phone,” Aunt Evie went on, “and order room service, assuming, of course, the hotel you stayed in had room service. . . .” This last was said with a bit of an edge.