Granny: "It was July 20th, 1965. I remember it like it was yesterday. Your grandfather walked into the hotel lounge, and that's where I first met him. I can still see him clearly—wearing a black suit with a brown tie and carrying a leather briefcase. His shoes were pointy, black, with just a subtle hint of another tone. And when he sat down, I noticed his socks—they were multicolored. He looked like any regular office worker—simple, unassuming. At first glance, there was nothing flashy about him. I had no idea he was wealthy.
Your grandfather's name was Jacob Olivia Daniels."
Mia: "Oh! That's the name we saw on the tombstone at Crystaland Graveyard. I thought he was your brother since you both had the same last name. I even assumed you never married and passed down your own last name to Mom."
Granny: "No, sweetheart. I gave your mother my last name, but only because my maiden name was Philips. When I married your grandfather, I changed it, even though he insisted I didn't have to. I still did—it felt right.
Your grandfather was the best man I've ever known. I dated quite a few men before him, but no one compared. He treated me as an equal when I needed to feel equal, and he gave me his best when I needed that, too. Sure, we argued over small things, but he never held onto grudges.
I remember the day we met like it was yesterday:"
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Jacob's Arrival at the Hotel
The hotel lobby was bustling with activity when Jacob walked in, briefcase in hand. He made his way to the cashier's desk.
Cashier: "How may I help you today?"
Jacob: "I'd like to get a room."
Cashier: "May I see your I.D., please?"
Jacob: "Here's my I.D."
The cashier examined the card, then returned it with a polite smile.
Cashier: "Thank you. What type of room are you looking for—small, medium, or king size?"
Jacob: "A medium-sized room will do."
Cashier: "And how long are you planning on staying?"
Jacob: "One week."
Cashier: "Here's a handout with our policies. Please review them. Your total comes to $340."
Jacob pulled out his wallet and counted out the amount, handing it over.
Cashier: "Thank you. Here's your room key—301C. Take the elevator to the third floor, hallway C. The first room on the right will have the number written on it."
Jacob: "Thank you."
He turned toward the elevator, then paused mid-step, realizing he hadn't asked about the room service. He turned back.
Jacob: "Sorry, I'd like to know about your room service."
Cashier: "Oh, I forgot to give you the room service booklet. My apologies. Here it is."
Jacob: "Thank you very much."
With the booklet in hand, Jacob headed to the elevator. He pressed the "up" button and waited as the doors opened with a soft ding. He stepped in, pressed the button for the third floor, and felt the elevator ascend. Upon reaching his floor, he glanced at the building map mounted on the wall. Hallway C was to the right and just around a sharp corner.
Jacob walked down the hall and, just as the cashier had described, found 301C—the first room on the right. He had reached his destination.
Jacob opened the door, and closed it he was only carrying a small bag and briefcase which contain the essentialitise he need for a week a briefcase for work, and the bag which contaíned some clothes. He immediately jumped on the bed since it was already night time, his flight had just arrived no less than an hour ago. Jacob fell asleep on the bed almost immediately.
The shrill alarm jolted Jacob awake at precisely 6:30 AM. The faint glow of dawn seeped through the thin curtains of the hotel room, painting the walls in soft amber hues. Jacob groaned, stretched his limbs, and let out a deep sigh, shaking off the remnants of sleep. He sat up and glanced at his leather briefcase resting on the desk, reminding him of the work that lay ahead.
After a quick shower, Jacob dressed in a fresh white shirt, a navy tie, and his signature black suit. He laced up his polished shoes and adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, ensuring he looked sharp and professional. Grabbing his briefcase, Jacob double-checked its contents: neatly arranged documents, a pen case, and his trusty notebook. Satisfied, he left the room and headed to the hotel lounge for breakfast.
The lounge was already buzzing with early risers—businessmen exchanging briefcases, travelers sipping coffee, and waitstaff bustling between tables. Jacob found a small table by the window and set down his briefcase. A waitress approached him with a warm smile.
Waitress: "Good morning, sir. Can I get you something to drink?"
Jacob: "Good morning. A cup of black coffee, please."
Waitress: "Coming right up. Would you like to see the breakfast menu?"
The waitress returned shortly with a steaming cup of black coffee and a warm smile.
Waitress: "Here's your coffee. Your food will be ready in just a moment."
Jacob nodded politely and took a sip, the rich bitterness waking him up fully. As he waited, he pulled out his notebook from his briefcase, jotting down a few reminders for the day. But his thoughts kept drifting back to the lively conversation happening at a nearby table, particularly to the woman whose laughter seemed to brighten the room.
The waitress returned a few minutes later with his breakfast—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a side of toast.
Waitress: "Here you go. Anything else I can get for you?"
Jacob: "No, that'll be all. Thank you."
Jacob enjoyed the meal in silence, savoring each bite. Once finished, he glanced at his watch and realized he needed to settle his bill.
Jacob: "Could I get the total, please?"
Waitress: "That'll be $5."
Jacob reached into his wallet, pulled out a crisp bill, and handed it over.
Jacob: "Keep the change."
Waitress: "Thank you very much, sir. Have a great day!".