The friend who loves finding the better deal

Her friend turned the laptop toward her.

“There. Perfect.”

The hotel photograph showed a pool, palm trees and a person who appeared to have no responsibilities.

Zoe leaned closer.

“Those are our dates?”

“Nearly.”

“Nearly is doing a lot of work.”

Zoe enjoyed a bargain, but she enjoyed understanding one even more.

Her friends knew this. They handed her confusing offers the way other people handed over stubborn jar lids.

For this weekend, she promised herself she would simply go along.

Then she saw the asterisk.

The attractive rate applied to a different week. The selected room had one bed. The breakfast in the photograph was not included.

Her friend sighed.

“So it's terrible?”

“No. It's a different offer.”

They checked the dates they actually needed. Then the room, cancellation conditions, inclusions and final total.

They searched another booking option and put the details side by side.

For half an hour, Zoe felt like a detective whose clues kept changing their names.

“Ocean view,” she read.

“Lovely.”

“From selected areas.”

“The roof?”

They called to ask.

The lowest total wasn't their choice.

An arrival restriction would have made their evening awkward. Another option cost a little more but suited their plans and had terms they preferred.

Zoe closed the extra tabs.

Her friend stared.

“You're choosing the dearer one?”

“I'm choosing this trip.”

They booked after confirming the details.

On Saturday, they arrived before dinner.

The room was ready. They knew what was included. Nobody had to begin the weekend renegotiating it.

By the pool, her friend raised a glass.

“To the asterisk.”

“To asking,” Zoe said.

Later, she put her phone away and floated on her back, watching palm leaves move above her.

For once, she wasn't looking for anything.

Back home, someone asked whether she had found the cheapest hotel.

Zoe thought of the unhurried dinner and the afternoon in the water.

“I found one we were happy to book.”

Her friend sent her their pool photograph.

Under it, she had written:

No asterisk needed.