"This is completely unacceptable!"
I turned.
There they were.
Dad, sixty-one, with his short gray hair and permanent expression of authority.
Mom, fifty-nine, looking exhausted in a floral blouse.
Vanessa, wearing one of the navy shirts I'd purchased.
Brandon, thirty-one, following behind her.
And Uncle Paul, sixty-three, bringing up the rear.
They looked miserable.
Vanessa was complaining about the cabins.
"The room doesn't even have a window!"
Dad muttered something about having paid for luxury.
Mom kept rubbing her temples.
Then she spotted me.
Her face drained of color.
Dad followed her eyes.
Within seconds, they were standing around my table.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dad demanded.
I calmly placed my fork beside my plate.
"Enjoying my vacation."
"You weren't supposed to come."
"That's what Mom said."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Seriously, Millie? You couldn't just let us have one peaceful vacation?"
I looked at her.
"You're standing at my table yelling at me."
Mom whispered, "Please, honey. Don't make a scene."
That almost made me laugh.
Then Vanessa noticed my wrist.
My gold penthouse access band.
Her gaze dropped to her own basic blue band.
She froze.
"Wait."
She grabbed Dad's arm.
"Look at her wrist."
Dad saw the gold band.
Then the penthouse keycard beside my dessert plate.
Something in his face changed.
Not simply anger.
Fear.
He stepped closer.
"What did you do?"
"I adjusted the reservations."
Vanessa practically shrieked.
"You downgraded us?"
"I removed the upgrades I had paid for."
Dad planted both hands on the table.
"You had no right!"
I met his eyes.
"The agency disagrees."
His expression hardened.
Then he leaned close enough that I could smell the coffee on his breath.
**"Millie, you have no idea what you've just ruined."**
There was something in his voice I had never heard before.
Panic.
I straightened.
"What exactly did I ruin?"
He glanced around the buffet.
"None of your business."
"Then why does it involve my penthouse?"
