twelve stools, and a silent college-football game on the television. Travelers checked their phones while families hauled suitcases toward the elevators. Nothing suggested a dramatic confrontation, which made Daniel’s arrival particularly absurd.
On Friday evening, most relatives coming from out of town had already checked in. Michael landed at about five, picked up a rental car, and sent me a message:
Lobby bar. I’m buying because you still owe me $4 from 1987.
I answered:
Inflation makes that at least $11.
His reply came immediately:
Exactly. Hurry.
When I arrived,
