"I don't think so, you're still here." I quipped and then changed the subject. "Does your dad still have the hotel?" Oh no. He sold it when he retired...years ago. Got a good price for it too and he bought this place." It's rather impressive, quite palatial." I commented."I like it. He left it to me when he died. I have been here ever since." And what about you?" I asked. "As Mrs. Wilman you obviously have a husband, any children?" Yes I had a husband. Richard. He died in a car crash three years. After over forty years of dedicated service to the company he was retiring. Tuesday morning he and his wife were catching a ship back to Earth. After years of scrimping and saving they owned a small house in Seattle free and clear. Between what they saved and the company's pension they would be able to enjoy a modest retirement in the city they both loved.Today's reception was by invitation only. The guests were a mix of company employees and David's friends. David made sure to invite the heads. Where have you been?"Sarah rolled her eyes and groaned. "I'm sixteen. I don't need to be home by six." You have an exam tomorrow." I'm hardly likely to forget that, am I?" Don't talk to me like that. And you walked home alone at this time of night. I don't like it." Oh for fucks sake, Mum. I am sixteen. I can..."Her mother hummed in anger and sent Sarah to her room, saying she was grounded "all week." Sarah slammed then locked her door and then sat down behind it crying.She needed to speak to. ‘So,’ she said, ‘Martin Reynolds.’I nodded, unable to speak.Rebecca continued, ‘my Grandmother’s maiden name was Reynolds, I presume you appreciate what that means?’I shook my head, frightened that this was some kind of test I was failing.‘It means, boy, my ancestors probably owned your ancestors.’I took this in; she was probably right so I nodded my head.‘But I don’t want you to think that gives you some sort of birthright to be my slave!’I didn’t know where this was going but shook my head.
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