“I'm sure they did.”
“Then what's the issue?”
His smile tightened.
“Certain premium facilities are reserved for a very specific category of guest.”
I glanced toward the family pool.
“Is this not the designated family area?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then please explain which eligibility requirement we haven't met.”
He looked toward the surrounding chairs.
Several guests were watching.
For a moment, Bellamy seemed uncomfortable.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Ms. Carter, perhaps we can discuss this somewhere less public.”
I nodded.
“Certainly. But my son is enjoying his afternoon, so I'd appreciate a concise explanation here first.”
His expression hardened.
“I'm trying to be discreet.”
I looked directly at him.
“Discretion doesn't require ambiguity.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Bellamy leaned closer.
“Let me put it this way. Some guests have expressed concerns.”
I frowned.
“What concerns?”
He hesitated.
“About unauthorized access.”
I glanced toward the passes.
“We've verified our access twice.”
“Nevertheless.”
I stared.
For a moment, I felt the old familiarity of the situation.
The polite smile.
The vague language.
The assumption that I would be embarrassed enough to leave rather than insist on a clear explanation.
I kept my voice steady.
“Mr. Bellamy, who believes we're unauthorized?”
His jaw tightened.
“I'm not at liberty to discuss other guests.”
“Then you can discuss the resort's own records.”
He looked irritated.
“Ms. Carter—”
“I'd like to know whether my son's access is valid.”
Bellamy paused.
Then reluctantly answered.
“The reservation exists.”
“Is it valid?”
He glanced toward his tablet.
“Yes.”
“Has it been revoked?”
“No.”
“Then why are we being asked to leave?”
His face reddened.
I saw something flash across his expression.
Not confusion.
Anger.
He looked toward the other guests.
Then lowered his voice again.
“Because I am responsible for maintaining the character of this resort.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
His smile disappeared.
“It means I decide whether a situation is appropriate for our premium clientele.”
I took a slow breath.
“And you believe my son and I are inappropriate?”
He hesitated.
Then said something astonishing.
“I'm saying you may be more comfortable at one of our public beach facilities.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I looked toward Noah.
He was staring up at Bellamy, his red popsicle forgotten.
I turned back.
“Mr. Bellamy, we're not leaving a validly reserved area because you believe we don't fit the atmosphere.”
His expression hardened.
“I can ask security to remove you.”
I nodded.
“You can make a request. But I suggest you first verify the facts and review your authority.”