Chapter 3 - The Woman She Couldn't See
"You know the waitress?" Lauren asked Jonah.
He looked from the red stain on my shirt to the empty wineglass by her plate. "I know my wife."
Nobody moved. Lauren stared at Jonah, waiting for him to laugh.
"Your wife?" she repeated.
"Maya Collins. This is her restaurant."
Revenge was a small meal. I had thirty-one families to think about.
"Becca, could you take over the dining room?" I asked. "We'll move this conversation somewhere private."
Lauren recovered quickly. "There must be a misunderstanding. Maya and I go way back. We were having fun."
"She poured wine on you," Becca said flatly.
"It was an accident."
"Then apologize," Jonah said.
Lauren stared at him. I knew that look too. She was choosing whether being gracious would cost her less than being cruel.
"I'm sorry if you took it badly," she told me.
"That's not an apology," I answered.
Anita closed the folder she had brought. "Jonah, perhaps the Glasshouse presentation should wait."
"No," Lauren said too quickly. "This is a ten-minute misunderstanding. We have an important contract to discuss."
I stepped into the staff hallway. The smell of bread and onions steadied me.
On the wall hung our first dollar, framed beside a picture of my mother and me opening night. In the photograph we looked exhausted and ridiculously proud.
Becca followed me. "I saved the dining-room camera footage."
"Good. Keep the original and don't share it."
My phone buzzed again. An unknown number had sent one sentence.
Don't let Glasshouse sign anything today. Ask about the people cleaning their hotel kitchens.
May you like
I read it twice. Then a second message arrived, this time with a photograph of a young woman standing outside a hotel in the rain.
I recognized the uniform. It belonged to Glasshouse Events.
