"Thank you," she managed. Then she took a breath. "I won't promise I won't make mistakes."
"Good," Leon said. "Anyone who promises that isn't paying attention."
"I will promise that if I make one, I'll tell you what happened and what I'm doing to fix it."
"That's the promise I wanted."
When Roz left the meeting, she found Benny waiting by the service station with a paper bag in his hand. He had bought two pastries from the bakery next door and had been standing there long enough for the bag to go soft at the bottom.
"I heard," he said. "Congratulations."
"Thank you."
He looked at the kitchen door, then back at her. "I owe you an apology. I heard Darren tell you to change the price. I knew it was wrong, and I kept my mouth shut. I told myself I had a kid and rent. That's true, but it doesn't make what I did right."
Roz accepted the apology without making it easy for him. "I know you were scared. I was scared, too."
"What do I do now?"
"You help me fix it. If you see something wrong, you say so. If you don't know how to say it, come find me and we'll work it out. But don't tell yourself silence is the same as staying out of it."
Benny nodded. "I can do that."
"Good. Now take those pastries into the kitchen before the chef thinks you've been stealing from the pass."
He laughed, and some of the tension between them lifted.
That evening, Leon returned to Ninth with June. The host greeted him before he had reached the desk.
"Good evening, Mr. Haverty. Welcome back. We have the window table ready for you."
Leon glanced toward the windows, where the last light of the day lay in long amber strips across the tablecloths. Then he looked toward the service station and table twenty-two.
"Not the kitchen-door table?" he asked.
The host hesitated, then understood. "We can seat you wherever you prefer, sir."
"Table twenty-two, please."
"Certainly."
The host walked him there without a glance at his jacket or his boots. The table stood level, its leg repaired properly. The service trolley had been moved out of the aisle. The kitchen door still opened and closed, but now the route between it and the dining room was clear.
Roz came over carrying two menus. She placed one before Leon and one before June.
"Good evening, Mr. Haverty. Good evening, Ms. Haverty. Can I start you with water?"
"Please," Leon said. "And tell me what's good tonight."
"The lemon fish is still good. Brown butter, capers, and charred lemon. We have a roasted chicken special, too, but the fish is what I'd order. The special is four dollars more than the regular fish because the portion is larger. The price is printed beside it, and I'll make sure it appears correctly on the check."
June smiled. "I think we'll both have the fish."
"Excellent. I'll put that in."
When the meal was finished, Roz returned with the bill holder. She did not set it down and disappear. She stood at a comfortable distance and read the check aloud, line by line: two lemon fish specials at the listed price, two waters at no charge, tax, and the total. She paused long enough for both guests to check the printed copy.
Leon looked at the receipt. "Just one check?"
"Just one," Roz said. "The same as the one I read to you."
He looked up at her. "No more second checks in my room."
"Not in this room," she said. "Not in any of them."