Page 67 of Always

“You have a picture of the front?” he asked her.

“No, just those.”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t go inside, usually.”

“Okay,” Anika said. “Let’s try the Pottinger first, then.”

It was the most luxurious of the hotels she’d found via image search. She really wasn’t sure whether the James of today stayed in the most opulent hotels, or more casual spots, but it seemed as good a place to start as any.

Her flight had arrived at 2:10 p.m. Hong Kong time, it was now half past three. Anika was starving, but she had an even more pressing need: before she entered the hotel, she walked a few blocks up the street looking for a place to buy some fresh clothing. The long flight had not been kind to her; she felt wrinkled, sweaty, and disgusting. She found a little boutique that carried not only an array of summery dresses, but also a rack of cotton bras and underwear.

Anika bought a pale blue sundress and fresh underwear, plus a pair of sandals. At the airport, she had exchanged the cash in her purse for Hong Kong dollars, but the shop took her credit card without issue. Actually, it seemed to process faster than most places back home, and the clerk wrapped her purchases in tissue with a speedy efficiency, and a polite “Thank you for your business!” that likewise put to shame plenty of her customer service interactions in SoHo.

No wonder China is taking over the world,Anika thought.

Carrying her shopping bag, she entered the first hotel on her list.

She could tell at once it was the wrong place. It was much smaller than the lobby in James’s picture, and the pillars didn’t match. She did take the opportunity to show James’s photo to the concierge, asking if perhaps she recognized the hotel?

“I’m so sorry,” the pretty receptionist said, in impeccable English. “I don’t recognize it. Would you like a recommendation for some other places you could stay? I’m afraid we’re fully booked.”

“No,” Anika said, “thank you, though. Is it alright if I use your bathroom before I leave?”

“Of course,” the receptionist said.

The bathroom was bigger and far nicer than many an apartment in New York. The sink was a trough large enough to bathe cattle in, with a basket of fluffy towels to dry one’s hands and a second basket full of toiletries, all of which smelled divine. With no one around to judge her, Anika half stripped and washed every place she could reach, even her hair. Then she changed into the fresh clothes she had bought, dumping the wrinkled, dirty ones into the trash.

She brushed her teeth using a plastic toothbrush and miniature tube of toothpaste she’d gotten at the airport, then applied deodorant and perfume from the hotel’s basket. Soon she was feeling like a completely new person.

She brushed her damp hair as well, but there was no point trying to do much with it, besides letting it curl up as much as it wanted to in the humidity. She did pin it back a little with a barrette from her purse. Throwing her bag back over her shoulder, she strode out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and ready.

This sense of renewal lasted while she visited the second hotel and the third. By the time she reached the fourth, her confidence was flagging. No one seemed to recognize the lobby from the odd angle of her pictures, and she was beginning to realize how very alike most of the hotels looked in general, from the furniture to the chandeliers. She couldn’t even be 100% certain that she hadn’t failed to recognize one she had already visited.

Not to mention,she thought miserably,You have no idea if James is even staying at the same place again.

Worst of all, it was getting late. Anika was going to have to book a room at the next place she visited, whether it was James’s hotel or not.

At the fifth hotel on her list, she pleaded with the short, slightly chubby concierge to take a look at the pictures in case he might recognize her target.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I haven’t been to that many other hotels, and I can’t say I’d remember the floor anyway. But...” and he paused, looking at a previous photo on James’s Instagram feed. “This...” he said, hesitantly.

“What?” Anika asked.

It was a shot of the Hong Kong harbor, taken from a corner window seat. The cushioned bench met at a point where a single slim bar divided two huge plate glass windows, through which could be seen a nearly 180 degree view of the water, dotted with barges and sailboats, ringed on either side by an array of shorter skyscrapers.

“This was taken from a hotel,” the concierge said.

“Which one?” Anika asked breathlessly.

“It’s the reading room at the Ritz-Carlton,” he said. “My cousin works there.”

Anika could have kissed him.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she cried.

Her next cab driver didn’t speak English, but he recognized the words “Ritz-Carlton” well enough. He drove her to a tall glass tower located at the very edge of a spit of land jutting out into the waters of the western harbor.

As soon as Anika entered the lobby, she knew she had found the right place. Though it no longer contained a vase of tropical flowers, Anika recognized the same table from James’s photo, and of course the same pale green tile.

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