Claire turned her head toward Marcus. "I'm not choosing this. He is forcing me out."
A hush spread outward from the entrance. Guests had gathered near the columns, and the pianist had stopped playing midphrase. Tessa came out from behind the desk carrying the printed VIP note in one hand and her own phone in the other. She had finally decided that her job was no longer the most important thing in the lobby.
"Mr. Vance, wait," she called. "The executive arrival is confirmed. Please read this before you do anything else."
He ignored her. He released Claire only after stepping through the doorway and pushing her beyond the protection of the vestibule. The rain struck her shoulders immediately, cool and heavy, and her canvas bag knocked against the iron post supporting the awning. The cardboard bundle slipped from beneath her arm, and several drawings fanned out across the wet stone.
Claire stopped breathing for a moment. She looked down at Jonah's dragon lying near a puddle and at Lila's yellow sun bending beneath the weight of raindrops. A sound escaped her throat, a small involuntary sound of dismay that Graham mistook for defeat. She knelt on the wet pavement and reached for the pictures before they could be trampled by someone coming through the entrance.
"Enjoy the rain, Mrs. Whitmore," Graham said. "Say hello to your husband for me."
The mockery was loud enough for the arriving drivers to hear. Samuel held his umbrella over Claire without asking permission, and Marcus stepped down beside her to gather the pages. Tessa hurried through the doorway, still holding the VIP note, and crouched to collect the last drawing from beneath the edge of a luggage cart. The three employees moved instinctively, as if the simple task of saving colored paper offered a chance to correct something they could no longer undo.
"I'm so sorry," Tessa whispered. "I tried to show him. I should have called anyway."
Claire took a careful breath. Her sleeve was wet where Graham had grabbed it, and the fingers of her left hand ached. She placed one damp sheet between the others and looked up at the young woman's frightened face. "You did something," she said. "Please don't forget that. We can talk about the rest later."
Graham remained in the doorway. He was flushed and breathing more quickly than usual, but he had achieved what he wanted: the woman was outside, his staff were in motion, and the arriving party had not yet entered. He straightened his tie and turned toward the first dark vehicle with the instant smoothness that had carried him through a career of social calculation. He did not notice that one of the arriving passengers had stopped walking.