Victoria watched from the rear of the room.
She had remained after the interruption, although nobody had persuaded her to join the table.
For several minutes, she appeared to be considering whether to leave.
Then she approached Emily, stopping at a distance that made it clear she remembered the condition Celia had imposed.
“May I speak to you?” she asked.
Emily felt every muscle in her shoulders tighten.
“You may,” she answered.
Victoria looked around, apparently annoyed that there was no private place to conduct the conversation.
“What happened earlier was regrettable,” she began.
“What you did earlier,” Emily corrected.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed, but she continued.
“What I did earlier was inappropriate.”
Emily waited.
“I was angry, and I behaved badly,” Victoria said. “I’m sorry.”
The apology was brief and awkward.
It did not explain why Victoria had thrown the water, and it did not undo the dismissal or the humiliation.
Emily looked at the woman who had spent the evening moving from one room to another in an effort to control what people said about her.
“Thank you for saying that,” Emily replied.
“Does that settle the matter?” Victoria asked.
“No.”
Victoria looked wounded.
“What else do you want?”
“I haven’t decided,” Emily said. “You don’t get to set the time limit on my answer.”
Victoria opened her handbag, then stopped herself from reaching inside.
For a moment Emily thought she might offer money.
Instead, Victoria closed the bag and stepped backward.
“I understand,” she said, although Emily was not sure that she did.
The audience began clearing the tables after the final scene.
There was applause, but it came after the work rather than during the conversation.
Walter shook hands with the performers and thanked the kitchen crew by name.
Mara collected the props and folded the script pages into her canvas bag.
The battered table was carried back toward the storage room, bearing new rings from tonight’s water glasses.
Emily watched the marks appear and felt an unexpected sadness that the table would soon leave.
Walter came to stand beside her.
“I owe you a meal,” he said.
“You still owe me half a bowl of soup,” she replied.
“I ate more than half.”
“Not according to the dish that came back.”
He laughed.
“All right. I owe you an entire bowl.”
Emily considered him.
“You can pay for it next time.”
“That’s a dangerous invitation to a man who travels with a theater company.”
“I didn’t say the next meal would be here.”
Walter looked pleased.
“Then I hope you’ll choose somewhere with comfortable chairs.”
CHAPTER TEN — THE NEXT MORNING
Emily returned to the restaurant at ten the following morning carrying her own apron in a small cloth bag.
She had slept badly, dreaming that Victoria kept lifting a glass that never emptied.
The Halcyon Room looked ordinary in daylight.
Without the music and the glowing lamps, the chandeliers seemed too large for the room, and the carpet showed places where chairs had worn its edges.
A maintenance worker was adjusting the hinge on the kitchen door.
Nina stood at the pass with a cup of coffee and a stack of deliveries.
“You came back,” she said.
“I said I would.”
“People say lots of things after a night like that.”
Emily shrugged.
“I left my good shoes in my locker.”
