The supervisor lowered the phone and said, “Mrs. Whitcombe, the hotel director is coming down now.” Natalie’s face went white. Minutes later, Marco crossed the terminal with two officers behind him, and the entire line turned to watch. He stopped in front of me and bowed his head. “Welcome home,” he said again, softly. Preston muttered that this was a misunderstanding, but Marlene stared at the brass badge on my jacket, then at her son, frowning.

The agent slid three folders across the counter, each marked “Sponsor Verification Required.” I took out my pen but did not sign. “Before I do,” I said, “I would like Marlene and Gordon to read the invoice for their cabin.” Preston reached for the folders, and Marco rested a hand on the counter. “Mr. Hartley,” he said, “I think everyone should see this together.”