"I can bring her a chair near the window," Lily suggested. "It would keep the passage clear, and she'd be comfortable while we check the floor."
"Absolutely not," Brad replied.
"A chair would be perfectly fine," Margaret said, as though the argument were about an ordinary piece of furniture rather than her right to be present. "If there's a quiet corner, I don't mind waiting."
"This restaurant doesn't seat people in hallways." Brad folded his arms. "And it certainly doesn't rearrange its floor plan because someone walked in without a reservation."
Lily wanted to point out that he had been the one to suggest the hallway. She wanted to ask why a man so committed to standards had invented three different rules in less than two minutes. Instead, she moved toward the empty table beside the window and checked the electronic chart on the hostess's abandoned tablet. Table twelve showed no reservation before closing, and the small symbol marking it available was bright green.
"There is an open two-top," she said quietly. "Table twelve has been clear all evening."
Brad turned on her. "You don't override the seating plan."
Margaret stepped back enough to remove herself from the center of the confrontation. The silence that followed was sharp, made worse by the ordinary sounds of service continuing beyond it: ice falling into a bucket, silverware touching porcelain, laughter from guests who did not know what was happening by the entrance. She had operated restaurants long enough to recognize the moment an employee must choose between obeying a manager and obeying a conscience.
"You have a kind heart," she told Lily.
Lily looked embarrassed. "I just don't think anyone should be treated like they're invisible."
Margaret's gaze softened. "That is a rare quality. Don't let anyone convince you it's foolish."
Brad made a sound of exasperation and glanced toward the front door. "Lily, go back to your tables. You're making this more difficult than it needs to be."
But Lily had already seen the older woman's hands. They were steady, though swollen slightly at the knuckles, and the damp cuffs of her coat suggested she had walked farther in the rain than anyone had thought to ask. Lily remembered her own mother coming home from hospital cleaning shifts, exhausted and still determined to set a warm dinner in front of the children. She could not look at Margaret without wondering whether someone would treat her mother this way if she were still alive.
"Would you like to see the menu while we sort this out?" Lily asked.
"Yes, please."
Lily retrieved a menu and opened it carefully in front of Margaret, turning it so the light fell directly on the page. "Tonight's special is the braised short rib," she explained. "It comes with a potato puree and vegetables from a farm upstate. If you prefer something lighter, there's a wonderful roast chicken."