Conrad appeared just as she finished speaking.
“There is a problem with the guest list,” he announced.
Celia turned toward him.
“You’re no longer supervising service tonight.”
He blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Give your keys to Nina.”
“You cannot run this room without me.”
“Perhaps we’ll discover that together,” Celia said.
Conrad looked at the small group of employees.
“I see,” he said softly. “You’ve formed a committee.”
“We formed a conversation,” Emily replied. “You weren’t invited because you kept ending it.”
Peter made a sound that was almost a laugh.
Conrad handed over his keys with an exaggerated flourish and walked toward the office.
Celia waited until he disappeared.
“I am not asking anyone to perform tonight,” she told them. “But Walter wants to meet the staff before we decide what happens next.”
Walter was waiting in the empty private salon.
The actors had placed the battered wooden table beneath the chandelier, where it looked out of place among the polished furniture.
On it sat a bowl of apples, a folded apron, and one empty plate.
“The Thirteenth Course isn’t a lecture,” Walter said when the employees gathered. “It works only if the people who serve the meal have room to surprise us.”
Anika raised her hand, then looked embarrassed for doing so.
“Are we meant to tell our worst stories?”
“No,” Walter said. “You are meant to decide which stories belong to you and whether you want to tell any of them.”
“Would you have come here tonight even if nothing happened to Emily?” Peter asked.
“Yes.”
“And would you have noticed us?”
Walter thought before answering.
“Not enough,” he said. “That’s why the play keeps changing.”
Emily appreciated the answer precisely because it was not perfect.
He did not claim to understand everything about their work.
He did not pretend he had saved her by making a call.
When she asked what would happen if the restaurant canceled the performance, he pointed to the battered table.
“We will put it somewhere else,” he said.
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s not much of a plan.”
“It isn’t,” Walter agreed. “I’m hoping we can improve it.”
A member of the company brought Mara a message from downstairs.
She read it, frowned, and passed the phone to Walter.
He studied the screen for several seconds.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“Victoria has not left,” he said.
“She’s waiting for somebody?”
“No. She has called the guests who bought the private tables.”
Mara looked grim.
“She’s telling them the theater company plans to insult the audience.”
Peter sighed.
“That should help ticket sales.”
Walter gave the slightest smile.
“It might,” he said, “but it could also ruin the one thing the show requires.”
“What’s that?” Luis asked.
“A room where people are willing to be wrong.”
