“Maman,” a girl said. “Is this your hotel?”
That voice broke through her mind focused on the verbal fusillade. She turned away from what promised to be a battle royale and looked upon the young girl with curly brown hair and big brown eyes holding her mother’s hand.
This child was clearly a younger version of her mother. The elder looked up to the sign her child was pointing at, which showed the hotel’s name with gold lettering on a black background.
The mother smiled and kneeled to be at eye level with her daughter. She brushed away a stray curl and kissed her daughter tenderly on the forehead.
“Non, Tessa,” her maman replied. “It was named after a famous poet. One of our ancestors.”
“Really?” Tessa asked.“Yes, really,” her maman replied.