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tiles, hoping to enjoy a few more minutes of steam himself before getting back to work.
    He made sure to keep an active social and recreational life outside the hotel for the sake of his sanity, whether it be rock climbing upstate, shooting hoops down the street at Central Park, hitting up the night clubs and bars in the evening, or just putting in a few hours working on the remodel plans for the fixer-upper house in New Orleans that he’d purchased for the simple fact that it had existed and he had wanted it.
    He’d be the first to admit he had an impulsive streak a mile wide. But to his mind, following your impulses was what kept life interesting.
    And yet, amidst his wide array of projects and activities, Linc still made sure he gave his best to the hotel that was his birthright. After all, even he could recognize that he would not be who he was without the hotel, or without his family. He supposed that his family had recognized in him a likability and charisma that made him a perfect fit for marketing and relations. Hell, he’d been a shoe-in at the New York hotel anyway, given that his Uncle Marshall, the overseer of the hotel, in many ways considered Linc and his siblings to be more like children to him than nephews and nieces, which in the end benefited them much better than being born to Marshall’s youngest brother ever had. Out of college, and upon Marshall’s part-time retirement, Grant had been made general manager and Linc had been made head of marketing. Their sister Madison joined not long after that, and he had a feeling that his youngest sister, Kennedy, would be coming along once she finished college. And so they would stick together, just as they always had, in what would be their legacy.
    Linc had big ideas for that legacy. Well, he’d always had big ideas about a lot of things, but finally he’d taken the time to bring these specific ideas together to form what he thought was a surefire way to reinvent the Vasser Hotels in a way that would make them more profitable and open up the field for expansion into even more cities across the country, and maybe even in other, more exotic parts of the world.
    After all, America was in the midst of a bad economy, with little to no hope of recovering any time soon. Maybe it was time that they got with the times and expanded their client base, building three star versions of their five star hotels that could attract those of the middle class. It seemed a brilliant idea to him, but, then again, he had very little say in his current position.
    If he could just get Grant to back him, he had a feeling Marshall would join in, and then maybe they could actually get shit done. It was all just a matter of convincing his stuffy, traditional older brother to take a leap of faith and try something new for once.
    Rolling his eyes, Linc got to his feet, knowing it was going to take a goddamn miracle. The man was worse than a brick wall sometimes, and if he was ever going to get through to him, he’d have to bring as much ammunition to the fight as possible.

     
    With a bitter grimace, Charlene Vasser examined the invitations for the fundraiser that she had ordered, furious that they had had the gall to misspell her last name.
    What kind of impression did that make to her as a client when the worthless printing company delivers invitations to her with the name Vasar instead of Vasser ? God, had they never even heard of the hotels?
    Frustrated, she lifted the invoice out of the box the invitations had arrived in, fully prepared to call up the company and give them a piece of her mind. She had to get these invitations out as soon as possible, and now they had cost her a valuable couple of days because of this pathetic mistake.
    Clearly they did not know who they were dealing with, Charlene thought with a haughty sniff, adjusting her reading glasses on her nose as she scanned the invoice for the phone number. She was Mrs. Winston “Win” Vasser III, mother to four of Cyrus