Preston looked at Imani and laughed softly. "She's a chair warmer. We've got actual clients arriving in ten minutes."
A few feet away, Sienna Vale, a marketing associate who often accompanied Preston on lobby visits, raised her phone. She was stylish, quick to laugh at powerful people's jokes, and skilled at turning somebody else's embarrassment into a few seconds of online entertainment. "Cute bag," she said, tilting her head toward Imani. "Did you get it from the gift shop downstairs?" Kelsey suppressed a laugh badly enough that Imani could hear it from her chair.
Imani looked at Sienna's phone rather than her face. "I'd prefer not to be filmed," she said. Sienna lowered the device halfway, just long enough to make her refusal appear innocent. "Oh, look, she takes notes," she told Kelsey.
"Maybe she's reviewing the front desk. Two stars. Nobody smiled."
"May I have that back, please?" Imani asked when Sienna reached toward the open notebook on the table. The marketing associate had lifted its cover with one finger as though it were a prop placed there for her amusement. Imani did not grab it or raise her voice. She simply held out her hand and waited until Sienna released it.
"What are you writing, anyway?" Preston asked. Imani closed the notebook but kept one finger between its pages. "I'm observing how this company treats people who walk through that door," she answered.
Preston laughed, and the laughter spread among the employees who were watching him for permission to join in. "Well, now you know. We don't do charity."
The words lingered in the lobby longer than he expected. A maintenance employee moving a cart near the elevators glanced up and then immediately looked away. An older courier near the package desk shifted his weight, recognizing the particular humiliation of being discussed as though he were invisible. Maya watched Imani's face and saw neither tears nor anger, only a kind of attention that made her uneasy in a different way.
At nine-twelve, an actual client arrived wearing an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase. Kelsey rose before he reached the desk, called him by name, and asked whether he wanted espresso. Preston stepped forward to shake his hand and apologized for a delay of less than three minutes. Imani remained in the chair, holding a glass of water, watching two different standards of hospitality operate within ten feet of each other.
She had grown up watching the same thing happen to her mother in hotel lobbies. Back then, she had not known words like institutional culture or service hierarchy. She had known only that some guests received smiles before they spoke and some had to explain themselves twice just to be acknowledged. The memory returned now without bitterness, a familiar measurement against which she was comparing the room.
At nine-nineteen, Kelsey approached the chair with an expression that imitated concern. "Are you still waiting?" she asked. "Mr. Hale is very busy. Maybe you'd be more comfortable downstairs in the public seating area." Imani reminded her calmly that the meeting was confirmed and had not been canceled.
"A meeting is only confirmed if somebody important confirms it," Sienna said from behind the desk. "Visitors are people we expect," Kelsey added, apparently pleased with the distinction. Maya, standing beside the water station, said that the appointment was visible in the executive calendar. Neither woman acknowledged her.