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“Clarice, where’s Chastity?”
Charity was there, curled up in an armchair playing games on her phone, but there was no sign of my younger niece.
“She’s in her room, reading.”
“Buckley says she isn’t there.”
Clarice had been rummaging in one of Odette’s many plastic boxes, but now she whipped her head around.
“What?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Why was he in the girls’ room?”
“He needed an extra hanger.”
“Why couldn’t he borrow one out of my closet?” Clarice huffed.
“How should I know?”
“Well, did he check the girls’ bathroom?”
“He didn’t say. I guess so?”
“Can you go get him to look?”
“Maybe you could do that?”
I mean, it was her husband and her daughter we were talking about. Or did they expect me to play messenger all morning?
“I’m super busy. Please?”
Please? Was Clarice feeling okay? She was never that polite.
“Okay, fine. I’ll ask him.”
No, Buckley hadn’t looked in the bathroom. He’d just called Chastity’s name, and when she didn’t answer, he’d come downstairs to foist the problem onto somebody else. I trailed him into the elevator because when he found her, he’d undoubtedly forget to tell me, and I’d be left standing in the lobby like a fool while he discussed the ins and outs of various dubious investments with Stu and the rest of the groom-bros.
Buckley took three attempts to get the door open, muttering about “damn room cards.”
“Chastity,” he called. “Where are you?”
I pushed open the bathroom door, but it was empty. Buckley checked the closets, and I looked under the bed. The door to the balcony was still bolted from the inside, thankfully, and there wasn’t anywhere else she could be.
“Could she have gone into your room?” I asked, rattling the connecting door. It wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t think so. It’s locked.”
“Well, she’s not in here. Maybe she left and couldn’t get back in again. Did she have her own room card?”
“You’ll have to check with Clarice.”
Much as I wanted to tell Buckley to check with Clarice himself, I was beginning to get slightly concerned. Chas was only nine years old. Hellishly smart for her age—who knew where she’d gotten that from?—but still too young to be meandering around the hotel alone, especially with us being so near to the water.
I jogged downstairs to find Clarice. She was back to rummaging through the boxes, muttering about toupee tape and blister bandages.
“Clarice? Chastity definitely isn’t in her room.”
