“The resort put a temporary hold on three luxury suites, spa passes, and private dining for the whole weekend, and the manager is keeping our luggage in the holding room.”

“Then give him your debit card,” I said.

“You know my card was declined at the elevator,” he snapped.

“Are you really going to humiliate me in front of my mother and sister over an administrative disagreement?”

“You added two authorized users to my primary card eleven months ago without my consent,” I said, keeping my voice level so Ben wouldn’t turn around from the corn crates.

“I added them so Mom could travel without worrying about her fixed income,” he said, his tone sliding back toward angry self-righteousness.