We entered the elevator in the parking garage and rode it all the way to the top. A hotel associate stood behind a podium just outside the elevator as we walked out. He seemed surprised as he looked at Logan and me.
“May I see your invitation, Mr. Hatfield? Ms. Whitaker?” he asked.
Logan showed him the invitation on his phone. “Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield, now. Thank you.”
“Of course.” The associate scanned the invitation, then waved us through.
“Invitation, Ms. Fritz?” the associate asked. Impressive. Did he know everyone in high society, or only those that were relevant in the news right now?
Knowing it didn’t really matter either way, Logan and I continued forward toward the doors of the ballroom. The room was exceedingly large, filling the entire floor of the hotel, with only a few room
