“Good evening,” the concierge said in a singsong voice. “I’m so terribly sorry...but I don’t know you. And I’m afraid that means there’s been a horrific oversight.”
“I’m Grant Trotter,” Grant said, helpfully. He pointed to himself and smiled brightly, flashing his single dimple and raising his eyebrows in hopes that she would help him. “You don’t have to know me—”
“Oh no.” She flapped her hands, wildly gesticulating, her face frozen somewhere between saccharine friendliness and total panic. “I do have to know you. That’s my job. I know all the Kymberlin residents. By name and by sight. Along with two or three interests, who their relatives are…”
“That’s...” Grant paused and tilted his head, “crazy.”
“No,” she smiled right back, “what’s crazy is that I don’t know you.” She laughed a high-pitched, obnoxious, embarrassed laugh and then seemed self-aware that it had sounded incongruous with the situation and she let it slowly die. “I’m sorry. Grant Trotter you said? What a horrible misunderstanding. And you’re sure you’re on the right Island.” A statement, not a question.
“I was originally a resident of Copia.” He refrained from telling the woman that Copia didn’t exist.
“Oh dear. Well, then to Copia you must go. No, no, no. There is a Copia concierge. She trained with me and her name is Susan...she would know you. That’s her job. She’s on Copia, of course. So, that doesn’t help us now. But, goodness, how did you end up here? I’m so confused. Was it an accident? That’s so strange...”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Grant said. He was tiring of the conversation, and he could feel a headache brewing behind his left eye. Still, he smiled. “Blair brought me here. I just came from a meeting with Gordy and Huck...they told me to go home.”
“But your home is Copia.”
“Copia—” Grant stopped. “I need a place to stay here. On Kymberlin. I can stay with the Kings if you tell me where they are living—”
“That’s private information. For Kymberlin residents only. I’m afraid I’ll need to call someone about this.”
“But I am a Kymberlin resident now.”
“Just a second, please,” she said as she held up a finger and hit a button on a small headset in her ear. “Yes, thank you. I have a young man here who says he’s from Copia.” A pause, a nervous laugh. “Well, I thought so, too. But thank you, I’ll wait for confirmation.” She hit the button again. “It will be just a second.”
Soft orchestral music played in the background. The woman swayed gently to the sound.
Grant tried to smile as he waited. He could smell a thick stink of sweat and adrenaline pouring off of his own body and he knew he needed a shower. Was it only this morning he had woken up in the System? Only this morning that Dylan had invited him to breakfast? The hours seemed longer, and the events seemed a world away. When the concierge answered a phone call, Grant didn’t even budge or look. He was lost in thought, watching the elevators ascend and descend.
“Grant?”
He didn’t hear her.
“Mr. Trotter? Excuse me, Grant Trotter?”
He turned.
“I apologize for both the delay and the complications. So, we don’t have a room for you...a horrific oversight. But I’m assured you are a Kymberlin resident now. Such a relief. There is an interior room on floor 10. Room 105. Follow Sky Bridge C to reach your stairs. It won’t have any of your luggage—”
He thought of his lost Romero poster. “I don’t have any luggage.”
She raised her eyebrows for just a second and then flashed a bright grin. “Then I can make it up to you for being so callous earlier and not knowing who you were—”
“But I wasn’t supposed to be here,” he offered in a gentle voice. “It’s okay. No need to make up anything.”
“Fresh toiletries and some pajamas.”
“I don’t need pajamas, ma’am,” Grant said and he took a step away from her and turned toward Sky Bridge C. He turned back, “Can you tell me what room Lucy King is in?”
“Oh, no. It’s so late. I’m so sorry. I’d have to call and confirm and I prefer not to call so late,” she said and she frowned and grimaced. “I’ll pass along a note to the family to let them know where you are staying. I’m assuming you would like me to tell them if they ask?”
He nodded. He nodded and nodded, and turned away.
She called after him about sending down a toothbrush, some floss, but he ignored her and kept walking. Lucy was somewhere in this ocean city; the last image she had of him was of him being taken away by Huck’s guards. She would already have killed him in her cute paranoid brain. It wasn’t fair to let her spend the night worried, but unless he knocked on every door, he wouldn’t see her tonight.
He felt like he might, maybe, almost, cry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Blair entered her apartment on Kymberlin and took in a deep breath. She had never stepped foot into this place, only seen the pictures and helped her father craft it to her own specifications. It smelled like new carpet and oranges. Allison the nanny popped up from the couch and stretched. She lifted her hands and stifled a growing yawn; then she tucked a knitting project into her bag and walked toward Blair slowly. When Allison stopped and her mouth dropped a bit, Blair looked down and realized that she was still in her damaged clothes from earlier. She crossed her arms over her body and tried to smile, to prevent questions.
“Good evening, Ms. Truman. Teddy will be so excited that you are home,” Allison said.
“Is he asleep?” Blair asked. She didn’t try to hide her disappointment that Allison hadn’t kept him awake to see her. All day she had been thinking of the reunion. It was strange how much she could miss him. Especially now. Especially after looking at Darla and seeing her longing and her pain. A real mother’s pain. She was filled with a temporary self-loathing at the very thought of even caring for him at all, and she felt herself growing agitated at Allison’s clear eagerness to leave.
She wouldn’t have minded the company for a little bit. She could make them tea.
“Oh, yes. He’s been going to bed at eight every night. With the time zone change, we had to adjust. Will you need me tomorrow?” Allison said. She shifted her bag up higher on her shoulder.
“Is there anything else I should know? About him? Has he been okay...without me?” Blair pushed.
Allison nodded her head. “He’s been great, Ms. Truman.” She waited, and then added, “He missed you.”
“Did he say that?” Blair asked a little too eagerly.
“Oh, yes,” Allison said. She hesitated. “I wasn’t entirely certain if my job as your nanny was—”
“I won’t be needing you anymore,” Blair said and she offered Allison a tight-lipped smile. “My father will notify you about payment for your time…extra luxuries for several months, I believe.”
Allison smiled. “He’s already credited my account, Ms. Truman, but thank you.”
Clearing her throat, Blair nodded and mumbled something about it being late. She opened the door and Allison didn’t hesitate to leave, and Blair shut the door a bit too hard. The sound shook through her small apartment. The lights were dim, per the evening ordinances, but still Blair could see the small touches put into her living quarters. Built-in bookshelves flanked an entire wall, filled with knick-knacks and treasures from Blair’s previous homes. She walked up and examined the framed pictures. There was one of her and Gordy when she was a kid. They were on a beach. Gordy was clasping her hand and she was smiling widely. She could remember that picture as always having existed in her life—moving with her from place to place. But the circumstances of that moment in time were gone forever. She no longer knew that little girl or that teenage boy or what they were doing on that beach or whatever had happened to that puffy pink jacket.