Back in the Solstice Club, Evelyn Pierce received word that several board members were approaching for an unscheduled inspection. The message arrived through the staff communications system and was so brief she initially assumed it was an error. She checked it twice, then called the regional director of premium services to confirm. He had no explanation beyond the instruction to cooperate fully.
Evelyn's first emotion was delight. The board had reviewed her guest-access efficiency numbers for the quarter, and she knew they were among the best in the company. The timing seemed extraordinary, but good fortune often arrived unannounced for people who were prepared. She straightened the seating cards, asked the kitchen to refresh the fruit display, and ordered the attendants to clear all unused trays from sight.
"Everyone stand a little straighter," she said. "The board is coming."
The bartender beside Marisol murmured, "The board of the airline? Here? Now?"
"Apparently," Marisol replied.
"I heard Ms. Pierce say this could mean a promotion."
Marisol looked down at the terminal where the founding-member record was still visible. She had not told Evelyn what she found. Constance had not instructed her to keep it secret, but she had not asked Marisol to warn the manager either, and Marisol understood that an honest evaluation required the behavior already shown to remain visible.
Evelyn called her over. "You will serve refreshments during the visit, and you will not discuss the earlier situation. It was a routine access matter and has been handled."
"Ms. Pierce, there is something you ought to know about that woman's card."
"We discussed this. It was fake."
"I entered the number in the legacy system."
Evelyn stared at her. "You went through the discarded material?"
"I needed to know whether we'd made a mistake."
"Marisol, your curiosity is becoming a discipline problem. You were told to stay at the bar. If you want to keep working here, stop acting like your feelings outrank procedure."
Marisol felt her pulse in her throat. She could have disclosed the result immediately and perhaps protected herself from the argument that would follow. Instead, something about the words feelings and procedure made her think of Constance's wet sleeve. She looked at the manager for a long moment, said she would be ready to serve refreshments, and returned to her post.
Evelyn interpreted the answer as surrender. She had spent years confusing silence with agreement, and it never occurred to her that a person could stop arguing because she had finally understood she was speaking to somebody who did not intend to listen. As she adjusted a flower arrangement near the reception desk, she pictured herself in the regional director's office receiving praise for her excellent control of the lounge.
Dale Harris was less optimistic. He had been summoned from his patrol by a colleague who told him the board was on its way and wanted the area secure. He checked that the exit remained clear, confirmed that no passenger required medical assistance, and saw Marisol watching the reception counter with the expression of someone holding a secret she badly needed to tell.