The hotel sat a mile away, but the distance felt longer.

Our duffel, overstuffed with both backpacks and extra gear, balanced precariously on the stroller frame. The weight bowed the frame. The wheels squeaked. We stopped at nearly every curb to readjust it.

Still, it rolled.

Corbin and Avery lagged behind, distracted by storefronts and pigeons, while Dani steered us through the narrow streets.

Then we reached a small square.

An ornate mansion stood across from an abstract fountain.

Dani stopped.

“That’s our hotel.”

It looked far too expensive for us.

I held out a finger.

“What was that thing you told me the reservation?”

She crossed her arms.

“Just go in. I’ll stay here with the kids.”

I hesitated.

“Are you sure? It’s your booking.”

“They don’t need me there.”

I shrugged. Then I crossed the square.

~

The mansion’s main doors led into a breezeway, covered yet open at both ends. A few steps to the left led to a small side door.

Inside, a middle-aged man sat behind the desk. He looked Middle Eastern and greeted me with a warm nod.

“Welcome, welcome. You have a reservation?”

I gave him my name.

He typed it into his computer.

“Passports?”

“They’re with my wife. She’s outside.”

He smiled.

“No problem. Please get your passports, then meet me at the gate. It’s to the right.”

I went back outside, retrieved the passports from Dani, and walked over to the gate.

Before he could take them, another guest arrived in a car.

“Excuse me one minute.”

He went to guide her into the parking garage.

I waited.

Once she had parked, he came back, took the passports, and led me inside.

Then he gave me a sideways glance as we walked.

“I see … you have four.”

I nodded.

“I saw you outside. You know, the room is only for three.”

I stopped halfway up the stairs.

“My wife made the reservation.”

“It’s fine.”

He gestured to himself.

“I don’t care. But the room is for three. You won’t be comfortable here. Let me show you.”

We started walking again.

At the first landing, he unlocked a door and swung it open.

A single bed filled most of the cramped room.

He looked at me.

“How can you fit here?”

I laughed.

“I don’t know. We’ll manage.”

He waved his hand.

“No. Let me show you another room.”

He led me up another flight of stairs.

The next room was a suite. A king-sized bed took up most of the main bedroom, but the room itself was twice the size of the first. Along one side was a small kitchen.

He pointed toward an open space along the wall.

“I can bring up two kids’ beds to this room.”

He looked around.

“The room is empty, so why not? I give it to you for the same price.”

Then he paused.

“But my boss, he keeps track of the kids’ beds. So I must charge you for them.”

He thought for a moment.

“This room costs a hundred more per night. But, as I said, same price. How about fifty for the kids’ beds?”

“Cash?”

“Cash.”

I checked my pockets.

“Let’s do it.”

He nodded and followed me back outside.

Then he looked at our bag as it leaned over the stroller frame.

“Is this yours?”

I nodded.

He grabbed the enormous duffel, slung it over his back, and started toward the stairs.

“Be careful. It’s heavy,” I said.

He waved me off.

When he came back down, he was limping.

“Your bag was so heavy! I think I hurt my leg moving it to your room.”

Dani turned to him.

“I’m sorry. It’s … well, it’s actually two bags strapped together, and—”

He waved it off.

“I’m okay.”

Still, he rubbed his leg.

Then he handed me our room key. It was engraved and cut at strange angles in shining metal.

“The room will take a time to prepare.”

He pointed down the street.

“If I were you, I would go straight that way to the cathedral. Walk around town for a few hours, get dinner, and come back tonight.”

He started toward the desk, then stopped.

“You already survived Cologne. Mainz will be kinder.”