Meredith had come downstairs because one donor she wanted to greet was having cocktails at the bar before joining the closing dinner.
She had walked past table fourteen, seen Lenora, and stopped.
She told herself it was because the table mattered.
Thomas Vale had always used it.
Their anniversary dinner had been served there.
Their son Peter proposed to his first wife at that table.
After Thomas died fourteen months earlier, staff generally left table fourteen available for the family when one of them was in the restaurant.
Not a formal policy.
A habit.
A privilege no one had questioned.
Until Lenora.
Meredith looked toward the hostess stand again.
“I’ll have someone find you another table.”
“No, thank you.”
The words were calm.
That irritated her more than refusal should have.
Meredith lowered her voice.
“I don't think you're understanding me.”
Lenora looked up.
“I'm understanding you perfectly.”
A waiter passed nearby carrying two cocktails.
He glanced toward them.
Kept moving.
Meredith noticed.
She became more self-conscious.
And therefore more certain.
“This is a private dining establishment.”
Lenora’s expression changed.
Barely.
Meredith heard herself too.
Private dining establishment.
She immediately knew it sounded worse than she intended.
So she added:
“Meaning certain seating arrangements are held for members, investors, and family guests.”
That did not improve it.
Lenora folded her hands.
“Do I look lost?”
Meredith blinked.
“I did not say that.”
“You keep explaining where I can sit as though someone placed me here by accident.”
Meredith’s face warmed.
“The hostess may not have known.”
“She knew.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I spoke to her.”
“That isn't—”
Lenora raised one eyebrow.
Meredith stopped.
Across the room, Darius Cole had noticed the interaction.
He was thirty-four, Black, six feet two, wearing a fitted black jacket with a small brass restaurant pin on the lapel. He had worked at Vesper & Vale since he was nineteen, starting as a runner during college and returning after several years managing restaurants in Chicago.
His father had worked there too.
That was one reason Lenora knew him.
He started toward the table.
Meredith did not notice.
She was still looking at Lenora.
“I am simply trying to avoid an awkward situation.”
Lenora almost laughed.
“I think we're in one.”
Meredith exhaled.
“May I ask who you're meeting?”
“No.”
That stunned her.
Not the answer itself.
The ease of it.
People usually explained themselves to Meredith.
Not because she demanded it consciously.
Because they knew who she was.
Or thought they did.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lenora looked toward the skyline.
“You may ask.”
“I don't have to answer.”
Meredith’s expression hardened.
“You know, there is really no need for hostility.”
Lenora turned back.
“I haven't raised my voice.”
“I didn't say you had.”
“You called me hostile.”
Meredith opened her mouth.
Darius arrived.
“Good evening.”
Meredith looked relieved.
“Darius.”
He looked toward Lenora first.
“Ms. Brooks, counsel asked me to let you know Mr. Fields and Ms. Alvarez have arrived upstairs. The NorthStar team is also here.”
Meredith went still.
Darius continued.
“They said there’s no rush. They can wait until you're ready.”
Lenora nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to bring anything before you go up?”
“No.”
“Of course.”
Darius looked toward Meredith.
“Mrs. Vale.”