To say the hotel was attractive was like saying a Porsche was a nice, modest car for commuting. It was both lavish and way out of Diana’s budget. The hotel room was situated on the top floor—the only floor you needed a key card to access.
A bellman waited outside the elevator in a red uniform jacket and black pants. “Mister Friessen, welcome back, sir.”
“Thank you. Ben, is it?” Rodney asked with genuine interest.
“Yes, sir. Ben it is, sir.”
“This is my daughter-in-law, Diana. She’ll be staying with us.”
“Is there any luggage I can bring up?” the young man asked eagerly.
Diana dropped her gaze to the faded filthy jeans she’d never worn off their ranch and had been in since yesterday. Even her sneakers were old and frayed. She knew she looked a mess, could even pass for someone off the
