He watched the cook set the meal in the service window.
“Who ordered that?” he asked.
“Table six,” Emily answered.
“Table six hasn’t paid.”
“I paid for it.”
Victor set down his phone with deliberate care.
“You know our policy.”
“There’s no policy against buying dinner for somebody.”
“There is a policy against attracting people who frighten paying customers.”
The old man heard every word.
He lowered his eyes to the tabletop as Emily carried his dinner across the room.
The couple in the rear booth stopped talking.
The woman with the takeout bag turned toward the register.
Victor followed Emily to the table and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You paid for his dinner?”
“He was hungry,” Emily answered.
“Take off your apron. You’re fired.”
Emily stood still with one hand resting on the chair.
Victor had threatened to cut her hours before, but he had never dismissed her in front of customers.
The old man pushed his plate away.
“Please don’t punish her because of me,” he said.
“Finish eating,” Emily told him.
She untied the apron with fingers that did not feel entirely connected to her hands.
A week ago, her younger brother had asked whether they could afford a new pair of basketball shoes for school.
She had told him they would check after payday.
Now she did not know whether there would be a payday.
She laid the apron on the counter, folded twice so its stained corner would not show.
Victor pointed toward the door.
“You can pick up your check when payroll runs.”
“You can’t withhold what I’ve already earned,” Emily replied.
“Then complain to someone.”
She looked back at the old man.
He had not touched the food since Victor began shouting.
“Please eat before it gets cold,” she said.
His hands stopped trembling as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
He withdrew a black smartphone that looked entirely out of place among the frayed fabric.
He pressed one number without looking at the screen.
“It’s me,” he said when someone answered.
“I found the young woman.”
Emily thought he might be speaking to a relative who was coming to collect him.
She did not imagine that those seven words were about her.
The old man listened for a moment.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Do not call the local office.”
He looked at Emily, and something like regret crossed his face.
“Bring the blue folder, Julian.”
Then he hung up and returned to the soup.
