"They already did," Loretta answered. "Twice."
Teresa looked across the lobby at the elderly visitor speaking to a coordinator, then at the delivery driver walking toward the proper reception point. She laughed softly, recognizing the compliment hidden in Loretta's answer. "I still have trouble believing people listen when I propose a change," she admitted.
"They won't always. That's why you have to show them what works."
"We've had complaints about the five-minute greeting rule. Some managers say it's excessive."
"What do you think?"
"I think a visitor who has an appointment should never have to wonder whether the company knows they're here. And I think a person who doesn't have one still deserves to be spoken to like a person."
Loretta nodded. "Then defend the policy with the waiting-time data, not just with my name. One day someone else will own this building, and I want the rule to survive when I'm not in the room."
Teresa took the advice seriously. She had become used to saying that Loretta wanted something, especially when people resisted changes that made their work more visible. But a rule based entirely on the preferences of a powerful owner could disappear as quickly as it arrived. A rule supported by evidence of better service, fewer complaints, and employees who knew how to solve problems had a better chance of remaining after the personalities changed.
Nia joined them a few minutes later, carrying a stack of proposals for the building's cleaning-services contract. The existing provider was approaching renewal, and Belmont Row had opened a competitive process after discovering that several smaller local businesses had never been told they were eligible to apply. The bid requirements were straightforward: documented insurance, fair wage practices, the ability to meet the cleaning schedule, reliable references, and prices that made sense. The company would not award a contract because an owner felt sentimental, but it would no longer treat a vendor's size or office address as proof of its value.
"There's someone downstairs asking whether small firms can bid," Nia said. "A woman named Miriam Ellis. She owns a cleaning company and says she has the capacity for this building if the work is phased. The procurement team told her she needed to speak with guest services first."
"Then let's meet her," Loretta said.
They found Miriam waiting at the reception desk, holding a worn blue binder with both hands. She was in her early forties, wearing a plain cream blouse and work trousers, with a careful, professional expression that Loretta recognized instantly. Miriam had already explained to the receptionist that she had not come to demand a contract, only to make sure her application would be considered. She looked relieved when Teresa introduced herself as the director of guest services and offered a quiet meeting room instead of asking her to wait where everyone could watch.