"Are you sure you're at the right restaurant?"
Maya had heard that question before. Sometimes it was sincere. Tonight the emphasis on right told her it was not.
"Meridian Prime," she replied. "Eight o'clock."
"We have several places with similar names in the city."
"I'm aware."
Brittany tapped her screen. Maya watched the confirmation disappear beneath a different page.
"I'm not seeing anything. We're completely booked through New Year's, unfortunately."
Maya glanced into the dining room. Six tables near the windows were empty. Another four along the interior wall held folded napkins and untouched bread plates. A restaurant with space for eighty was serving barely thirty people.
"I confirmed twenty minutes ago," she said. "Would you like to see the email?"
"Our system is very reliable."
"Then the email should help you find the discrepancy."
Maya opened her phone and showed the screen. It was not a screenshot someone could easily misinterpret. The reservation application displayed the restaurant's name, address, party size, date, and time. Below it sat a confirmation number.
Brittany glanced without reading.
"The system must have glitched."
"Could you check the number?"
"I really don't have time to troubleshoot individual bookings."
Maya let a beat pass. "What would you normally do if a reservation failed to appear?"
"Depends on the guest."
"In what way?"
Brittany's expression tightened. "Do you want to make this difficult?"
The question turned the problem upside down. Maya had arrived on time with a confirmation. But now she was being asked to take responsibility for the discomfort Brittany had created.
"No," Maya said. "I'd like to have dinner."
She could have introduced herself then. She could have said the Hrix family had agreed to sell the business, that the purchaser was Maya Hospitality Group, and that the closing documents were being finalized. There was a decent chance that the hostess would have changed her tone immediately.
Maya had spent too much of her life watching courtesy appear the instant someone discovered a title. She wanted to know whether it could exist without one.
"Those tables are empty," she said, indicating the dining room. "If there's a technical problem, surely we can solve it."
"They're reserved."
"All of them?"
"For guests who match our atmosphere."
Maya felt a small, familiar heaviness settle behind her breastbone.
"What does that mean?"
Brittany crossed her arms. "Our regular clientele knows what to expect here. It's a very particular dining experience."
A waiter at the nearest table slowed. One of the guests looked up.
Maya reached into her handbag for the printed confirmation. "I brought this as well. The reservation is valid."
Brittany took the page as though Maya had handed her an unwanted flyer. She read the restaurant's name and booking details. Her eyes moved over the same confirmation she had refused to examine on the phone.
For a fraction of a second Maya thought the woman might concede.