“You can’t stay here,” my brother said as our family checked into the $2,000-a-night resort he picked for his wedding weekend. “People like you don’t belong in rooms like this.” My mother touched my sleeve and whispered that the motel down the road would be less embarrassing for everyone. My father stared at the marble floor and said nothing. So I took my bag, checked into the $109 motel next door, and listened to them joke about it all day. At dinner, my brother raised his glass and said, “To my brother, the only man here who knows how to ask for extra towels.” The table laughed. Then two hotel security officers walked up, stopped beside my chair, and asked, “Mr. Hart?” My brother grinned, certain I was about to be removed…..
The Ashbourne Grand smelled like white lilies, lemon polish, and money old enough to have manners.
That was my first thought when I walked through the lobby doors with one overnight bag in my hand.
My second thought was that my brother had chosen the place perfectly.