They stayed at the hotel, went to the beach, ate breakfast downstairs, and paid for their final two nights themselves.
Three months later, Mom asked to visit again.
This time, she offered two possible weekends.
She asked how many nights worked.
She asked which rooms were available.
I said yes.
When they arrived, Melissa came last.
She carried a box of pastries.
“No breakfast orders,” she said.
I smiled.
“Good start.”
The visit wasn’t perfect.
But nobody entered my office.
Nobody invited extra guests.
Nobody treated my kitchen like a restaurant.
At 8:00 the next morning, I came downstairs to find coffee already made.
