She marched back to the front desk. The concierge scowled when she saw her but quickly replaced the expression with a professional smile.
"Excuse me," Catherine said, speaking in a high, girlish voice. "I'm so silly. My friend and I had plans to meet with another friend in his room. I totally forgot, but I've just remembered it now. The problem is, I can't remember the room number."
"And?" the concierge asked.
"Well, if I give you the name of my friend can you remind me what room he's in?" she asked.
"That's very unusual, Miss," the concierge said.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'd call them and ask them just to meet me down here, but I think their phones are dead."
"What's his name?" the concierge asked with a sigh.
"Adam Carroll," she answered. "And I think he said he was staying in room 4-something. But I'm just no good with numbers."
The concierge typed something into her computer, "He's in room 436."
