“Elijah Brooks.”
Her face showed no recognition.
That fascinated him.
Not even a flicker.
“Destiny Okafor.”
“I knew that part.”
“Right.”
He smiled.
“I'm glad I met you, Destiny.”
She looked toward the Ashcombe entrance.
“Even today?”
“Especially today.”
Destiny glanced at his coat.
“You should get your money back, Mr. Brooks.”
“I intend to.”
“That meal wasn't worth what they charged you.”
“No.”
She started toward the parking structure.
Elijah called:
“Destiny?”
She turned.
“Keep your phone on.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“You'll understand tomorrow.”
Before she could ask anything else, Elijah walked toward a waiting car.
It was not a limousine.
Just a dark sedan Renee had sent after he messaged her.
The driver opened the rear door.
Destiny watched him get in.
Then looked at the Ashcombe building again.
She still had no idea who he was.
At home that evening, Renee Brooks knew something was wrong before Elijah had finished removing his coat.
They had been married twenty-seven years.
She knew the difference between Elijah's tired silence, irritated silence, reflective silence, and the rare dangerous silence that appeared when somebody had crossed a line he could not ignore.
She was sitting at the kitchen island reading when he came in.
“What happened?”
Elijah placed his keys down.
“I went to the seventh floor today.”
Renee closed the book.
“And?”
“Three hours.”
“What?”
“Three hours before they seated me.”
Her expression changed.
“Who?”
“The new manager.”
“Luke Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
Renee knew the name.
She had attended the final executive dinner after Luke's hiring.
Luke had been confident.
Polished.
Funny in the controlled way ambitious people sometimes are around founders.
She had left thinking Harold's replacement seemed competent.
Elijah opened the refrigerator.
Took out water.
Then stood there without drinking it.
Renee watched him.
“It wasn't just slow service.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
He did.
The reservation.
Membership card.
Paige.
The ignored calls.
Guests arriving later.
Luke's comments about his clothes.
The demand that he prepay.
The table by the host stand.
Renee listened without interrupting.
Then Elijah reached the food.
“He told the kitchen to use something they'd already pulled.”
Renee sat straighter.
“What?”
“He said I wouldn't know the difference.”
“He said that?”
“Not to me.”
“To the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard some of it.”
“And?”
“Destiny confirmed the rest.”
“Destiny?”
“A server.”
Elijah removed the folded note from his pocket.
Renee read it.
DO NOT EAT THIS. ASK WHY.
She looked up.
“She did this?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“Luke fired her.”
Renee's face hardened.
“For warning you?”
“He didn't know exactly what she said. He saw her lean toward the table.”
“And decided.”
“Yes.”
Renee looked at the note again.
Then:
“Did she know who you were?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”