“Who approved this?” Walter asked.
Conrad approached before Mara answered.
“The revisions were necessary for the client experience.”
“The client experience,” Walter repeated.
“Our guests expect something uplifting.”
“They bought tickets to a play about service, not a toast to the woman who just soaked a waitress.”
Victoria could hear them and made no attempt to hide her interest.
“I agreed to support this event because it was supposed to celebrate excellence,” she said.
“Then we have different definitions of the word,” Walter replied.

The restaurant owner, Celia Arden, arrived from an upstairs office when Conrad called her.
She was younger than Emily had expected, with a severe bob and a soft voice that required people to be quiet to hear it.
Celia inherited no restaurant empire and owned only a minority stake in the Halcyon Room.
The building belonged to a separate company, and her partners had been pressuring her to make each event more profitable.
She had agreed to the Thirteenth Course because she thought it could give the restaurant a reputation beyond extravagant prices.
She had also allowed Conrad to negotiate the guest program while she handled an expensive dispute with a linen supplier.
Now she stood in the center of a dining room where a fired waitress was drying her hair and a theater company refused to rehearse.

“Conrad,” Celia said, “tell me why nobody called me sooner.”
“We had a minor service incident.”
Emily rose from her chair.
“A guest threw a glass of water in my face,” she said. “Conrad fired me.”
Celia looked at Victoria.
Victoria did not deny it.
“Your employee was rude,” she said.
“What did she say?” Celia asked.
“She implied that a shabby man and I deserved equal treatment.”
A silence followed.
Celia looked at Walter’s worn coat and then back at Victoria.
“That isn’t an insult in this building,” she said.
Conrad’s mouth opened, but Celia raised a hand.
“You can explain your decision after I speak to Emily.”

Emily had been trained to apologize for everything from rain to traffic.
She could not remember the last time a manager had asked whether she was all right.
Celia asked now, and Emily found the question harder to answer than she expected.
“I want to go home,” Emily said. “But I need to know if I’m still employed.”
“You’re not fired,” Celia replied.
Emily exhaled.
“Conrad had authority to dismiss staff,” Celia continued, “but he used it badly. I am reversing that decision.”
“That doesn’t make the water disappear.”
“No,” Celia said. “It doesn’t.”
She turned to Victoria.
“Your meal will be canceled. You may leave or wait in the foyer for transportation.”
Victoria laughed, but it sounded like surprise.
“Do you know how much money I spend here?”
“Yes,” Celia said. “I sign the reports.”
“And you’re going to throw it away over a waitress?”
“I’m going to stop deciding what is acceptable based on a guest’s account balance.”
Victoria reached for her handbag.
Her companion stood too quickly and knocked his napkin onto the floor.
Nobody rushed to pick it up.