The Chosen

doesn’t exactly do wonders for employee morale.”

“Jesus, you’re touchy. I hate to think what kind of nicknames they have for us.”

Vera grabbed two of her suitcases, which the movers had left in the foyer. “At least let me take them,” Kyle insisted.

“I can handle it,” Vera replied.

Kyle grinned. “You’re pissed off, aren’t you?”

“No, Kyle, I’m not pissed off. I just think you’ve got a lot to learn about dealing with people.”

Kyle laughed. “Hey, I’m a nice guy—I swear. I’ll bet my next check you’ll be calling them dolts a week from now. They’re all immigrants from eastern Europe or something. Most of them can’t understand a word you say.”

“Oh, so that means they’re stupid? That means they’re dolts?”

“All right already, I’m sorry. Boy, you and me really are starting off on the wrong foot.”

Vera sighed, following him up the stairs. “Do they have green cards?”

Now it was Kyle’s lips that pursed. “That’s the wrong kind of question to ask around here. Mr. Feldspar got them from one of the other inns.”

“He’s got inns in eastern Europe?”

“Sure. Eastern Europe’s a boomtown now, are you kidding? Since the cold war ended, all kinds of U.S. investors are setting up shop over there. We’ve even got an inn in Russia.”

“And it’s making money?”

“Hand over fist.”

Vera contemplated this as she stepped onto the landing. She’d read that the Radisson and some other major hotel chains were opening in eastern Europe, but they were for travelers and businessmen. But what kind of clientele could Feldspar possibly have attracted to Russia? She couldn’t imagine such a business risk.

“They’re cheap,” Kyle was saying. “That’s all that matters.”

“What?”

“The dolts—er, excuse me. I mean the custodial engineers.”

Vera ignored him. He began to lead her down a similarly plush, dark hallway. But then she stopped. “Wait a minute,” she queried.

“What’s wrong now?”

The stairs, she thought. What the hell?

The twin staircases led from the atrium to the second floor. And ended. But The Inn had four floors, didn’t it?

“Why do the stairs end here? How do you—”

“Get to the third and fourth floors?” Kyle finished her question. “VIP entrance in back, by the parking lot and helipad.”

Odd, she concluded. She understood the desire to separate the high-priced suites from the cheaper rooms. But separate accesses? It seemed an indulgent expense. She couldn’t imagine the additional construction costs for such a nicety. On the other hand, though, rich people were often eccentric, and the more their eccentricities were pampered, she realized, the more frequently they’d come back and, of course, the more money they’d spend. When executed properly, it was a system that always worked in the