Elmira closes in for a double air kiss on either side of my face. “Not at all.” Aside from the registration lady’s once-over of my jeans and black boots. By the time I made it through the security gate, a valet, and a front desk, I knew this was the most exclusive of exclusive clubs. “Good. We pay enough in membership fees that they shouldn’t.” She offers me her trademark smile—small, slightly standoffish—before gliding down a long hall with signs pointing toward the swimming pool. Other signs point toward the squash and tennis courts, a curling rink, and a golf store. Double-glazed doors with iron inserts hide a spa. I’m guessing the soothing smell of essential oils in the air is coming from there. “Thanks for meeting me today.” Honestly, when I called Elmira this morning, I expected to get her voice mail, but she answered. I held my breath when I suggested lunch and I deflated with disappointment when she declined, saying her day was full.
