She had hoped that the reports were exaggerated.
She had hoped that the new management team was simply inexperienced.
She had hoped that Richard Halston was a man who could be persuaded to listen.
But as she watched him speak to Leonard, she began to suspect that the problem was larger than poor judgment.
It might be deliberate.
She looked toward Peter Langford.
The general manager was standing near the service station, speaking with a young hostess.
He glanced toward Eleanor.
She gave him a small nod.
He understood.
He disappeared into the office.
A minute later, he returned with a slim folder.
He did not bring it to her table.
Instead, he handed it to Leonard.
Richard noticed.
"What is that?"
Leonard opened the folder.
His face changed.
"Where did this come from?"
Peter leaned closer.
"Mrs. Grant asked me to retrieve it."
Richard looked toward Table Twelve.
Eleanor was calmly drinking water.
"What is in it?"
Leonard did not answer.
He turned a page.
Then another.
His expression grew darker.
"These are the original service agreements."
Martin leaned forward.
"All of them?"
"Apparently."
Richard reached for the folder.
Leonard kept his hand on it.
"Let me see."
Leonard looked at him.
"Not yet."
Richard's voice dropped.
"Leonard."
"Not yet."
The silence between them was no longer polite.
It was the kind of silence that appeared when a negotiation reached the point where everyone understood that something important had changed.
Richard looked across the room.
For the first time that evening, he studied Eleanor Grant carefully.
Not her coat.
Not her handbag.
Not her shoes.
Her face.
And he wondered why a woman who appeared to have no connection to the transaction had just caused the general manager to retrieve documents that his own legal team had been unable to obtain.
At 9:27 p.m., Eleanor asked for the bill.
Daniel brought it to her on a small silver tray.
"Thank you."
"Would you like anything else?"
"No. Everything was lovely."
Daniel hesitated.
"May I ask you something, Mrs. Grant?"
"Of course."
"Are you coming back?"
Eleanor smiled.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether the restaurant is still here."
Daniel looked confused.
"Of course it will be."
"I hope so."
She placed a credit card inside the bill folder.
It was a plain card with no visible luxury branding.
Daniel collected it and returned a moment later.
"Thank you, Mrs. Grant."
Eleanor signed the receipt.
Then she placed a folded note beneath the edge of her plate.
"Would you give this to Mr. Langford?"
"Certainly."
"And Daniel?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for your kindness tonight."
His face brightened.
"You're welcome."
Eleanor stood.
She slipped her handbag over her arm and picked up her coat.
As she turned toward the entrance, she passed the old photograph again.
She stopped.
Her fingers touched the edge of the wooden frame.
"Good night, Thomas," she whispered.
Then she continued toward the door.
The doorman opened it for her.
"Good night, madam."
"Good night."
Outside, the pavement still glistened.
A taxi was waiting at the curb.
Eleanor stepped inside.
"Where to, Mrs. Grant?" the driver asked.
"Home, please."
The taxi pulled away.
Inside the restaurant, Richard watched her leave.
He looked at Leonard.
"Who is she?"
Leonard closed the folder.
Then he said something that made Richard sit very still.
"She's the reason this restaurant exists."
Richard frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Leonard looked toward the empty Table Twelve.
"It means you should find out who you're negotiating with before you decide what you can take from her."
Eleanor's apartment was on the fourth floor of an old building overlooking a small park.
It was not large.
The sitting room contained two comfortable chairs, a bookcase, a wooden dining table, and a framed photograph of Thomas standing outside the Grand Aurelia on opening night.
There were no marble floors.
No expensive sculptures.
No security guards.
A small lamp stood beside the window, and a knitted blanket rested over the back of one chair.
Eleanor hung her coat near the entrance.
She placed her handbag on the table and took out the envelope.
Then she removed her phone.
A message was waiting.
The trustees are ready for tomorrow morning. All original documents have been assembled.
Eleanor read it twice.
Then she typed:
Please include the full voting register, the 1998 amendment, and the current beneficial ownership schedule. I want the original copies, not summaries.
She paused.
Then added:
No one should be informed of the meeting until all participants are present.
She sent the message.
A moment later, the phone rang.
The caller was Margaret Ellis.
Eleanor answered.
"Hello, Margaret."
"Mrs. Grant. I'm sorry to call so late."
"You're not disturbing me."
"I heard you went to the Grand Aurelia tonight."
"I did."
"Did you speak to Mr. Halston?"
"Yes."
Margaret was quiet.
"How did he seem?"
Eleanor removed her shoes and sat down.
"Very confident."
"That sounds like him."