For nearly two years, she received no information.
Then, six weeks before arriving at the Bellmont, she discovered an old photograph in a box of family belongings.
It showed Margaret standing in the hotel's lobby, wearing her brown housekeeping uniform.
On the back was a handwritten note:
"One day, when you are ready, come back to where our story began."
Claire recognized the handwriting immediately.
She contacted the hotel.
A receptionist confirmed that Margaret still worked there, although she had moved to a different department.
Claire made a reservation.
She wanted to surprise her mother.
But the accident had left her with medical appointments and unexpected complications. Her travel date changed several times.
She finally called the hotel and spoke with someone who promised to update the reservation.
Now, standing in the lobby, she wondered whether she would ever reach her mother.
Jonathan Pierce returned to the reception desk.
He had completed the card verification.
His expression was no longer dismissive.
"Miss Bennett?"
"Yes?"
"I've confirmed the payment card. It is valid."
Claire nodded.
"Thank you."
"There appears to be a note attached to your reservation. It says the guest is expected by a member of the hotel's senior staff."
Claire looked surprised.
"Really?"
Jonathan searched the system again.
"Yes. The note is quite old. It was entered by someone named Margaret Bennett."
Claire's breathing changed.
"Margaret?"
Jonathan looked up.
"Do you know her?"
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
"She's my mother."
Jonathan stared at her.
For a moment, the noise of the lobby seemed to disappear.
"Your mother?"
"Yes. She works here. I came to see her."
Jonathan looked toward the back corridor.
"May I ask when you last saw her?"
"Almost ten years ago."
He studied Claire's face again.
Then he glanced at the bruise, the cane, and the suitcase.
"Please wait here."
He turned to Olivia.
"Could you arrange a room for Miss Bennett? The best available suite. Make sure everything is prepared."
Marcus looked confused.
"Sir, I thoughtโ"
Jonathan interrupted him.
"We'll discuss it later."
Claire shook her head.
"You don't have to give me a special room."
Jonathan looked at her.
"I'm not doing this because I feel sorry for you. I'm doing it because your reservation is valid, and because we have a responsibility to our guests."
He paused.
"And because I believe we may have made a serious mistake."
Claire nodded slowly.
"Thank you."
Jonathan picked up the telephone.
He called the housekeeping department.
"Could you tell me whether Margaret Bennett is on duty today?"
There was a pause.
Then he looked toward Claire.
"She's in the west wing."
Claire's fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase.
"Can I see her?"
"Of course."
Jonathan gave instructions for someone to bring Margaret to the lobby.
Claire sat down.
For the first time that afternoon, she allowed herself to cry.
In the west wing, Margaret Bennett was finishing her shift.
She was seventy-one years old, with silver hair tied into a neat bun. She wore a brown uniform, a white apron, and a small name badge.
Her back had become weaker over the years, and her hands were often stiff in the morning.