The Quimby Hotel

━ 05: First Order Of Business

Shanghai's obnoxious alarm blared at five A.M. sharp, sending Cairo jolting upward so aggressively that he tumbled in a covers-tangled heap off his bed. His brother howled with laughter.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Breakfast is earlier now. That's showbiz."

Cairo grumbled something about Shanghai misusing common sayings as they hastily changed and readied themselves for the day, out the door and down the hall in four minutes flat. This time he was squished between the brat he knew and the brat he didn't, Antalya attempting to force-feed Blue hash brown casserole off her plate. Blue didn't seem to be a fan. Cairo ignored the glass of water in front of him and poured himself a coffee, guzzling it like it was his last hope for keeping his weary eyes plastered open. Eye. Whatever. He was still getting used to it.

Cairo glanced down at his plate before shooting Paris an accusatory look. "Did you just steal my cheese Danish?"

The brat dabbed his crumb-littered mouth delicately with a cloth napkin. "No," he responded innocently.

He didn't get the chance to retort, because Mrs. Quimby tapped her glass lightly with a spoon to get everyone's attention.

"Children," she said smoothly, her voice a midnight stream. "This is a conversation your father and I have intended to have with you for a long while. Since the arrival of your brother—" she nodded to Cairo, and knowing everyone's eyes were on him made him want to crawl under the table— "we can finally discuss it with all of you here together."

Even Shanghai straightened and suddenly displayed excellent manners, so Cairo figured something important must have been going on, and his brother could sense it.

"We're not going to operate this place forever," said Mr. Quimby in his laid-back drawl. "As many of you are already quite aware, the world isn't safe for In-Betweens." Cairo was sure he was looking directly at him, and his throat ran dry. "This is a place where those with magic, those without, and everyone residing in the middle can find a temporary home. That was always the goal, and that goal should transcend our lives and yours."

His wife nodded, looking around at all of them one by one. "Many of you are getting older now, and eventually it will be time for you to carry on our legacy. Now that most of you are at the age where you understand your responsibilities in the hotel, we would like to present the opportunity for at least one of you to inherit the building someday."

Cairo's fork clattered to the table. No one else seemed to notice.

"Because of the..." She smiled lightly. "Unconventional nature of our family's structure, it would only be fair for all of you to be provided the same fighting chance—regardless of who or what is in your blood."

Oh, brother. Cairo shifted glances toward his siblings across the table, to his right and his left. Vienna was not hiding her eagerness well, that power-hungry smirk twisting its way onto her lips. Rome had stiffened, his eyes hard, and Shanghai was giving him a reassuring grin.

Rome was the oldest, and as far back as Cairo could remember, his sights had been set on becoming head of the hotel someday. He was good with the customers, he knew the place inside and out, and he was rarely doing anything other than working, so really, it would have made sense to pass the mantle on to him. Unfortunately, it also wouldn't necessarily be fair. Automatically giving the keys to Rome would take the opportunity away from Cairo—who was also, technically, the oldest. The oldest of Hattie's children, that was. And, of course, the oldest of both would be Vienna. To avoid a bloodbath between the three of them, it seemed, and to give Berlin and Havana a fighting chance, their parents had come up with this ridiculous compromise.