The woman with the briefcase waited for an answer while the dining room at the Bellwether became so quiet that Claire could hear ice settling in a glass.
Preston Blake still had one hand on the service station, where he had placed Claire’s apron as though it were evidence against her.
He studied the woman in the dark suit, then gave her the polished smile he reserved for customers whose watches cost more than his monthly salary.
“I handle staffing decisions here,” he said.
The woman opened her briefcase and took out a document with a single blue tab.
“Please state your name for the record,” she replied.
His smile broke apart.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Margaret Voss, and I represent the independent trustees of the Bellwether Hospitality Trust.”
Several diners shifted in their chairs, but the businessman who had laughed at Claire remained perfectly still.
Margaret turned toward the old man.
“Mr. Samuel Avery, do you want me to proceed?”
Samuel nodded once.
“I want the young woman to get her coat before anyone speaks about business.”
Claire had been expecting another reprimand, not the small courtesy of having her dignity considered first.
She retrieved her wool coat from the hook by the kitchen, where cooks watched without speaking.
At the back counter, the dishwasher, Hector Ruiz, gave her a look that asked whether she needed help.
She shook her head because she did not yet know what help would mean.
When she returned, Margaret had pulled out a chair for her.
Preston raised his voice.
“She is no longer an employee, and this is a private establishment.”
Margaret looked at the soup bowl that Samuel had barely touched.
“Is it your policy to dismiss an employee for purchasing food for another person?”
“It is my policy to protect our reputation.”
“Then the trustees will need to know whose reputation you believe you were protecting.”
At table seven, the laughing businessman put down his glass with extraordinary care.
His name was Charles Renwick, and Claire knew him only as a customer who treated servers like furniture.
Samuel knew him by another name.
“You can stop pretending you do not recognize me, Charles,” the older man said.
Charles looked toward the exit and discovered that every waiter along the wall was watching him.
“I thought you were in Milwaukee,” he murmured.
“That is not what you told the board.”
Margaret shut the briefcase without handing anyone the papers.
