The Lost Heir (Book I)- The Violet City

The Boys in Town

They arrived at the top of Culver Hills Road and looped into the circular drive of the Foxworthy Hotel. A few staff members waved at Isabella as Pythian trailed behind her up the front steps and into the grand lobby. The concierge, Rolf, winked at her subtly and then continued speaking rapidly into the replica 1920s candle-stick phone behind his desk. Probably some guest complaining about the beach being more than three blocks away. Take the trolley, people. It goes right there.

Isabella picked up her foot to move forward, then put it back down and stared slack-jawed. The hotel's two newest bartenders, Nico, who was from Italy, and Constantine, who was from Brazil, emerged from the kitchen at the back of the lobby, balancing about twenty wine glasses each. Several were upside down and several others stacked right-side up. "If my grandmother sees them, they're dog meat." She held her breath as they wove between the patrons seated in the open dining area at the far right. Constantine side-stepped a very tall plant and Nico looped around a waiter with a platter full of hot plates. Then they wound down the four steps that led to the Jazz Pit Bar Lounge as if they'd been doing it all their lives. "Wow. Do they do trapeze too?"

"Are there always so many people?" asked Pythian, sounding a bit on edge. She understood. She hated crowds too. But for some reason it was different in the hotel. In a regular crowd, she had the added fear of getting lost, which she despised more than anything. She looked around the lobby, bustling with guests, rafters trimmed thinly with garland and a smattering of holiday lights. They had not fully decorated yet. Decorating day was December 20th. Though she would never tell her grandmother that was the best thing about being a Foxworthy-the tradition. With tradition, one never felt lost.

"It's the holidays," she said.

"The holidays?" he asked, brow furrowed.

Isabella looked at him like he'd grown tentacles. "You know. Christmas?" He blinked at her. "Hannukah? The Winter Solstice?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. The solstice!"

This kid was more than weird. "And like I told you, Python, Theophilus isn't here giving lessons today."

"It's Pythian. Piiitheeean!"

"Oh, well. He isn't here. My Uncle Robert says he won't be back for months." Pythian stared up at her with a plea in his eyes. "Fine. You can ask my nano. Then I get my dinner." She started a course toward the silver-haired woman in the Prada suit, standing behind an ornate podium with a telephone at her ear. Unfortunately, a round man with a walrus-style moustache blocked her from moving swiftly in the direction she wanted to go. When she escaped his presence, a group of little kids darted by nearly tripping both her and Pythian. "You'll be getting a lump of coal in your stockings this year! Ugh. Sometimes, I hate the holidays."

Now all she had to do was quickly say hello to her grandmother and goodbye to this Pythian boy.

"Our masquerade ball will be the best New Year's Eve event we've had in years with my granddaughter, Isabella Foxworthy performing and Logan Blues headlining," Catherine Bayer Foxworthy spoke into the phone as Isabella and Pythian approached her behind the front desk. "Yes. New Year's Eve. We'll be doing a homage to Renee Fox and Sinclair Worthy and their era of Hollywood. Can I put you down for seven? Fantastic."

"Just stopping by to say hello, Nano. I have a ton of things to do."

"Isabella! I'm glad you're home. How was your day, dear?" she asked, not noticing the boy standing beside her granddaughter.

"Um..horrible."

"Sunnier. Try to be sunnier. More positive," she said, her eyes expanding when she finally looked at her granddaughter. "What happened to your knee?"