Amber ignored him.
Ruth sat behind the desk.
“Why did you hate it?”
Amber’s jaw tightened.
“You know why.”
“No. I know what happened here. I do not know what you made it mean.”
Amber stared.
Ruth opened the folder Calvin had brought.
Inside was the evening’s private-event contract.
Marcus’s company had reserved the dining room for a holiday dinner.
Fifty-three guests.
Set menu.
Wine package.
Dessert service.
Marcus had insisted on paying personally because, as he told Ruth three weeks earlier, “I want the team to know I appreciate them.”
Ruth had smiled when he said it.
She had not told him the restaurant was hers.
Not because it was secret.
Because she had assumed he knew.
The Collins name had disappeared from the restaurant twelve years earlier after a rebrand.
Marcus had moved away by then.
He rarely asked about the business.
Whenever Ruth mentioned “the restaurant,” he seemed to think she was talking about an investment or old partnership.
She had allowed the misunderstanding to continue because it did not seem important.
Until now.
Marcus looked at the contract.
“How much is the dinner?”
Ruth turned it toward him.
His face changed.
Amber leaned closer.
“That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“You charged him that much?”
Ruth looked at her.
“The rate was discounted.”
Amber laughed sharply.
“Of course you’d say that.”
Marcus stared at the number.
Then at his card.
“There’s enough money.”
