The folding table.
Margaret’s handwriting on invoices.
Thomas sweeping.
Clare complaining about labels.
“Six people.”
The young man blinked.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Hard to believe.”
Daniel looked toward the upstairs office windows.
“No.”
He smiled.
“Six people can do a lot when they believe their work matters.”
One afternoon, Daniel stopped at reception on his way out.
Jenna was working.
The same young woman who had asked whether he had an appointment months earlier.
She recognized him instantly now.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Good afternoon.”
She looked embarrassed.
“I’ve wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“That morning.”
Daniel smiled.
“You don’t need to.”
“I should’ve known who you were.”
“No.”
She looked uncertain.
Daniel rested one hand on the counter.
“You should have been told who I was if the company expected you to recognize me.”
Jenna relaxed slightly.
Daniel continued.
“The problem wasn’t that you didn’t recognize the founder.”
“What was it?”
“I sat there forty-five minutes.”
Her face reddened.
“I know.”
“I didn’t mind waiting.”