He stopped when he saw the glass on the table beside Loretta. His smile vanished, and for a brief instant she saw him become more concerned with a piece of glassware than with the person drinking from it. "Who brought her a glass?" he demanded. Teresa raised her hand before Hayley could answer. "I did, sir. She has a nine o'clock appointment."
"The glassware is for clients," Bradley said. "She has a chair. That's plenty."
Teresa's hand remained half raised. She looked at Loretta and then at the tray, caught between the embarrassment of taking away a drink and the fear of defying the man who signed off on her performance reviews. Loretta spared her the choice by placing the glass back on the tray herself. She took a final small sip first, because she had been thirsty when she arrived and because no one should be made to feel ashamed for needing water. "It's all right, Teresa," she said softly. "It's the same water."
Bradley looked at her with genuine disbelief, as though an uninvited opinion had emerged from a chair. "Let me guess," he said. "You're here about the cleaning contract."
"No, Mr. Kincaid."
"Then you really shouldn't be sitting in my lobby. Cleaning crews use the back entrance, and facilities is in the basement."
The words brought back an old smell so vividly that Loretta almost felt it again: industrial floor cleaner mixed with wet cardboard and the burnt coffee from an office kitchen at midnight. "I cleaned buildings like this one for eleven years," she said. "I know where the service entrances are."
Bradley gave a short laugh and turned his phone so the camera caught Loretta in the background. "You hear that? Lobby lady says she used to mop floors," he told the woman on the screen. "Love that for her."
A laugh came from the phone, sharp and performative, and the call ended before Loretta could make out the other woman's face. Bradley's assistant approached carrying a folder and a printed visitor badge, ready to explain that Ms. Holt had personally requested the nine o'clock appointment. Bradley took the badge, looked at the name L. SIMMONS, and dropped it into the wastebasket beside reception.
"Visitor badges are for guests," he said. "Hayley, call security. When I get back, I don't want to see her here."
Hayley picked up the telephone but did not dial. She was older than Teresa, and she had worked in the building long enough to know that a confirmed appointment should not be canceled by a hallway insult. "She's on Ms. Holt's list, Mr. Kincaid," she said. "She has an appointment, and I'm not throwing out a woman with an appointment."
Bradley stared at her as though hearing disobedience in a language he had forgotten existed. Then his phone chimed again and pulled him away toward the elevator. He left with the look of a man certain that someone else would enforce his wishes before he returned. Loretta watched the elevator doors close and added another line to her notebook: 9:20, visitor badge discarded.