“You refused a handshake.”
Craig looked toward Aaron.
“You publicly mocked his profession.”
Craig whispered:
“I was trying to—”
Terrence raised one finger.
“You invented a financial-verification policy.”
Craig went still.
“Your own security employee stated he had never heard of it.”
Terrence pointed toward the phone recording.
“You threatened to remove Mr. Brooks after he declined to leave a legitimate appointment.”
Craig’s breathing quickened.
“And you made comments directly linking your treatment of him to who you believed belonged in this environment.”
Craig shook his head.
“That’s not—”
“It’s recorded.”
Craig turned toward Aaron’s phone.
The red indicator remained visible.
Something like panic finally entered his face.
Aaron stood.
“There wasn’t a policy.”
Craig said nothing.
“No protocol.”
Nothing.
“You saw a Black man in muddy boots.”
Aaron walked closer.
“And decided you already knew the size of his bank account.”
Craig’s lips parted.
“Mr. Brooks, I—”
The front door opened again.
Philip Danes entered.
Corporate vice president of Summit Air Aviation.
Mid-fifties.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
He had received a call from Terrence during the drive.
Unlike Craig, Philip knew exactly what Brooks Agricultural Holdings was.
One of Summit Air’s corporate analysts had already located the original inquiry in the customer-management system.
Budget.
Aircraft.
Company information.
Appointment status.
No legitimate reason for what had occurred.
Philip stopped inside the entrance.
His gaze moved through the room.
Aaron.
Terrence.
Craig.
Reception.
Phone recording.
Open financial packet.
Philip looked at Craig.
“My office.”
Craig attempted a smile.
“Philip, this is being blown completely—”
“Now.”
The smile vanished.
Craig followed him.
Through the glass wall, the showroom could see Philip standing behind his desk.
Craig remained standing.
Philip did not offer a chair.
Nobody could hear the details.
They did not need to.
Craig’s hands began moving.
Explanation.
Excuses.
Pointing toward the lobby.
Pointing at himself.
Shaking his head.
Philip remained still.
Then spoke.
Craig’s shoulders dropped.
Two minutes later, the door opened.
Craig came out.
He looked twenty years older.
He walked toward Aaron.
Stopped several feet away.
For the first time since meeting him, Craig could not maintain eye contact.
“I owe you an apology.”
Aaron waited.
“I’m sorry if you felt disrespected.”
Aaron’s expression changed.
Craig continued quickly.
“That was never my intention. I was trying to follow what I believed to be appropriate sales procedures. This whole thing became a misunderstanding, and—”
“Stop.”
Craig stopped.
Aaron stepped closer.
“You are apologizing for how I felt.”
Craig’s eyes flicked upward.
“You are not apologizing for what you did.”
“I just said—”
“No.”