“No,” he said. “I regret thinking that helping him meant I understood him.”
June nodded. “That’s different.”
Chapter Eight B: Before the Doors Opened
The municipal auditorium opened at eight. Daniel arrived at seven thirty with June, who carried an envelope containing copies of the workers’ speaking schedule. The street was wet from a brief shower. Someone had placed decorative planters near the entrance, and city workers were unfolding barricades to keep the pedestrian path clear.
Anika was waiting on the steps. She told them that the concession company had filed a late statement accusing outside agitators of interfering with recruitment. The document named Daniel as an organizer with possible connections to Marcel Orsini. Anika had prepared a response but reminded him not to become distracted by accusations against himself.
“Your job is to speak about what you know,” she said. “If they want to argue about your character, they can do that without your help.”
Inside, Imani sat with her statement folded in thirds. She had changed into a neat green blouse and polished shoes that pinched her toes. Daniel asked whether she wanted to rehearse. She shook her head.
“Every time I rehearse, I sound like I’m trying to convince myself,” she said. “I already know what happened.”
A security employee directed them to seats near the back. Celia Brandt’s team had reserved the front rows, where branded folders waited on the chairs and a model of the future kitchen stood on a display table. Its tiny metal counters shone beneath the lights. Nessa stared at it and whispered, “They still haven’t changed the crossing.”
Daniel saw Kent Voss enter through the side door. The diner manager looked uncomfortable outside his usual territory. He nodded to Daniel without approaching. Several tables later, Lorna appeared with a cane she’d apparently borrowed for the morning. Ada insisted that the cane was unnecessary, and the two women began arguing about who had worse knees. Their bickering eased the tension more effectively than any prepared speech.
Then Marcel came through the auditorium doors. He was alone except for Vale, who stayed a few paces behind. People recognized him; conversations fell quiet, then resumed in whispers. He took a seat near an exit, not among the workers.
There were questions he still wanted answered about his father’s final years, about the promises Marcel had made and broken. But the hearing was beginning, and those questions were no longer urgent enough to displace the people whose work was at stake today.
Imani leaned toward him. “Do you think they’ll listen?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said.
She drew a breath and looked at the front of the room. “Good. I was getting tired of people promising they would.”
