Richard looked away.
He could feel the conversation slipping beyond his control. He had expected the discovery of Eleanor's connection to the restaurant to settle the question. Instead, it had sharpened it.
If Eleanor was associated with the founding trust, his behavior could become a serious problem.
If she was not, he still had to explain why he had treated a stranger as though her clothes were evidence of wrongdoing.
He disliked both possibilities.
"Michael," he said, "let's focus on Riverside."
Michael did not immediately answer.
Then he closed the folder containing the development proposal.
"I think we should postpone our discussion."
Richard stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because I need time to consider whether we're approaching this partnership with the same understanding of responsibility."
"You're making a business decision based on a dinner conversation?"
"I'm making a business decision based on what I've observed about your judgment."
Richard's face reddened.
"That's absurd."
"Perhaps. But the decision is mine."
Michael rose.
His colleague followed.
Richard stood quickly.
"Michael, sit down. We haven't finished."
"We've finished for tonight."
Michael extended his hand to Gregory.
"I'll contact you tomorrow about the next steps."
Gregory shook it.
"I understand."
Richard did not offer his hand.
Michael looked at him for a moment.
"Good evening, Richard."
Then he left.
Richard watched him cross the dining room and disappear through the entrance.
The restaurant's doors closed behind him.
For the first time that evening, the Riverside deal felt genuinely uncertain.
Gregory remained seated.
"You should apologize to her," he said.
Richard turned.
"Why?"
"Because you were wrong."
"We don't even know who she is."
"We know enough."
Richard lowered his voice.
"You're taking her side."
"I'm taking the side of basic decency."
"That sounds noble."
"It isn't noble. It's ordinary."
Richard looked toward Table Twelve.
Eleanor was speaking to Martin again. The manager had pulled up a chair beside her, and the two were looking at a document that had been taken from the private room.
Richard could not read the page.
He could, however, read Martin's expression.
The manager was concerned.
Not frightened.
Concerned.
Richard had seen that expression on executives when an audit uncovered something they had hoped would remain unnoticed.
His stomach tightened.
"What exactly is she planning?" he muttered.
Gregory heard him.
"Maybe she's planning to have dinner."
Richard gave him a cold stare.
Gregory rose.
"I'm leaving."
"You're abandoning the meeting?"
"There is no meeting anymore."
"Gregory."
His business partner stopped.
"I've spent twenty years defending your judgment because you were usually willing to listen when the facts changed. Tonight, you decided what a woman was worth before you knew her name."
He glanced toward Eleanor.
"And when the people around you refused to agree, you treated them as if they were disloyal."
Gregory picked up his coat.
"That's not leadership, Richard. It's insecurity wearing an expensive suit."
He left before Richard could respond.
Richard remained standing beside the table.
Two investors gone.
A partner angry.
An unknown woman connected to the restaurant's founding trust.
And a room full of people who had witnessed him behaving in a way he could no longer convincingly describe as professional concern.
He looked at his reflection in the dark window.
For the first time that evening, he wondered whether his reputation had been built on more than his ability to recognize opportunities.
Perhaps it had also been protected by people who were too polite, too intimidated, or too dependent on him to challenge his mistakes.
The thought unsettled him.
He pushed it away.
He had built Halston Capital from nothing. He had survived recessions, failed projects, hostile negotiations, and competitors who would have gladly taken his place.
He would not allow one awkward evening to destroy what he had accomplished.
He would find out who Eleanor Grant was.
Then he would decide how to handle her.
In the private room, Thomas Reed finished explaining the original trust agreement.
Eleanor listened without interrupting.
Martin sat beside them, reading a copy of the same document.
"The trust does not own every operational decision," Thomas explained. "It cannot simply dictate the color of the tablecloths or choose which chef prepares the evening menu. The operating company has legitimate authority over ordinary business matters."
"That is how it should be," Eleanor said.
"But the trust retains oversight rights concerning the use of the name, the founding principles, and certain protections written into the original agreement."
Martin looked troubled.
"Why wasn't this discussed with the current board?"
"It may have been discussed at some point. The issue is whether the relevant obligations have been properly communicated and enforced."
"Have they?"
Thomas looked at Eleanor.
She nodded for him to continue.
"We haven't completed the review," he said. "But the staff feedback suggests that some policies may have been treated as optional when an influential guest was involved."
Martin lowered his eyes.
"That would be my responsibility."
"Not necessarily yours alone."
"I'm the general manager."