"You can't fire me," Richard said.
"The employment consequences will be processed under the applicable agreements and laws," James replied. "But your authority to manage this restaurant has ended. That portion is not negotiable."
Richard gripped the counter. "I've given twelve years of my life to this place."
"Then you should understand what it means to the people who work here," Maya said. "And to the guests who arrive expecting dinner instead of an interrogation."
Brittany turned to Derek. "You told me to handle it."
"You were the one who said those things."
"Because that's how we've always done it."
Derek flushed. "Don't involve me."
Maya watched the two employees begin to place blame anywhere it might land. She had anticipated anger, denial, perhaps bargaining. What struck her was their sudden inability to stand together once the system that had protected them changed.
"Enough," she said.
Her tone was not loud, but it carried.
"You will each have an opportunity to give your account. Tonight, none of you will continue supervising guests or employees. Please step away from the front desk."
Richard did not move.
Maya met his gaze. "You ordered two security guards to remove me from the building. I'm asking you to walk peacefully to your office with a representative of the transition team. Those are not the same kinds of request."
From behind the gathered staff, a woman in a dark gray suit appeared. Ruth Ellis, Maya Hospitality's regional director of operations, had entered through the service door after the seller's representative cleared the transition. She had fifteen years of restaurant-management experience and a manner that inspired confidence without intimidation.
"Mr. Whitmore," she said, "I'll accompany you. Your personal belongings will be inventoried with you present. Nothing will be removed without a record."
Richard looked toward the dining room. Some of his regulars were staring. One had turned deliberately away.
At last he stepped back.
Maya realized that throughout the confrontation she had waited to feel victorious. Instead she felt tired, relieved, and unexpectedly sad. No amount of legal authority could give her back the ordinary dinner she had wanted.
But it could give the next person a different experience.
The first applause came from Luis Ortega.
He stood near the service corridor, his palms coming together uncertainly, as though he might be reprimanded for making noise. Maria joined him. Then Harold Bennett, who had returned to the entrance after seeing Maya reenter, began clapping from near the door. Several diners followed.
The sound grew, then faded quickly into an embarrassed murmur. Maya lifted a hand, asking for quiet.
"Thank you," she said. "But please don't applaud because anyone has lost a job. This is not a celebration of unemployment. It's the beginning of responsibility."
That distinction mattered to her. She knew what it meant for a family to depend on a paycheck. She also knew what it meant when the fear of losing that paycheck allowed mistreatment to continue.