She smiles at him over the top of Romaine’s head. It’s a worn-out smile, tired and faded around the edges. But there’s still a kind of thrilling glamour about it. Something golden and intoxicating. Like an old hotel, he thinks. Like… the Ritz. He smiles to himself at the satisfyingly recalled name and he adds it to his collection; a priceless coin dug up on a beach.
