The Grand Celestial Hotel sparkled with 10,000 Christmas lights as I pulled my aging Toyota into the circular drive. Vallets in crisp uniforms rushed to handle the arriving luxury vehicles. Mercedes, even a Bentley, while my car sat idling, waiting for someone to acknowledge it.
“Miss,” a young Valet finally approached, his expression polite, but his eyes telling a different story. “Are you here for an event or family gathering?”
“I said, handing him my keys. Under the name Chin.”
“Oh.” His tone shifted slightly. “The Chin party. They’re in the grand ballroom. You can leave your vehicle here.”
I grabbed my small duffel bag from the trunk. Practical weathered nothing like the designer luggage I’d seen being unloaded from the other cars.
As I walked through the massive entrance doors, I took in every detail. The 20-foot Christmas tree in the lobby, the marble floors that I’d personally selected three years ago, the subtle gold accents that caught the light just right.
Everything was perfect.
“There she is.”
My brother Dererick’s voice carried across the lobby, loud and deliberately mocking.
“We were wondering if you’d actually show up, Sophie.”
I turned to find Derek and his wife Amanda approaching, both dressed in outfits that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Behind them, my mother Patricia stood with my younger brother Marcus. All of them radiating that particular brand of prosperity they’d perfected.
“Traffic was heavy,” I said simply.
“From where? The budget motel you’re staying at?” Derek laughed. “Because surely you’re not actually staying here. This place is 1,500 a night minimum.”
“Derek,” I said quietly.
“What? I’m just being realistic.”
He gestured around the opulent lobby.
“Look at this place, Sophie. It’s the most exclusive hotel in the city. They host celebrities, politicians, billionaires, not customer service representatives from tech companies.”
My mother air kissed my cheek, careful not to mus her makeup.
“Darling, Derek has a point. We love that you came for Christmas, but there’s no shame in staying somewhere more appropriate to your budget. There’s a holiday in about 15 minutes away.”
“I have a reservation here,” I said.
“You do?” Marcus looked surprised. “How did you afford that?”
“I manage.”
Amanda, my sister-in-law, laughed. A tinkling sound that probably seemed charming to most people.
“Sophie, sweetie. Managing doesn’t cut it at the Grand Celestial. This is where Dererick and I spent our honeymoon. Cost us $20,000 for three nights. They don’t do budget rooms.”
“I’m aware of the pricing,” I said.
“Then you must have maxed out every credit card you own,” Derek said, “which is irresponsible, honestly. Mom, you should talk to her about financial planning.”
My mother sighed.
“Sophie’s always been impulsive. Remember when she turned down that stable accounting job to work in tech support? We tried to warn her.”
A group of hotel staff walked past and I recognized Victoria, one of my front desk managers. She caught my eye and gave a subtle nod.
Not yet, I told her earlier.
Let them talk first.
“The chin party has reserved the grand ballroom for the evening,” Marcus said, consulting his phone. “Full catering premium bar the works. Derrick’s treating everyone. Dad would have been proud. His eldest son making the family gathering something spectacular.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” I said.
“It will be. Unlike some people, I know how to celebrate in style.”
Dererick’s chest puffed out slightly.
“I’ve invited some business associates too. Important people, the kind who expect a certain level of sophistication, which is why we’re concerned about your presentation,” Amanda added, eyeing my jeans and simple sweater. “This is a formal event. Sophie, please tell me you brought something appropriate to wear.”
“I brought clothes from Target.”
Derek snorted.
“Jesus, Sophie, this is embarrassing.”
“Language,” my mother chided. But she was looking at me with that familiar disappointed expression. “Sophie, dear, you know we love you, but you have to understand. Tonight is important for Dererick’s business relationships. We can’t have you looking like, well, like you just came from work at a call center.”
“Tech support,” I corrected. “Not a call center.”
“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” Marcus shrugged. “Phone work. Customer complaints. Not exactly prestigious.”
I watched them. These people who shared my DNA but knew almost nothing about my actual life.
Derek who’ taken over our father’s import business and run it competently if not brilliantly. Marcus who worked in middle management at a pharmaceutical company. My mother who’d married well twice and considered that her greatest accomplishment.