Not Liang.
A woman at table twelve.
Then the man beside her stood.
Then someone near the bar.
Within seconds, nearly half the dining room was on its feet.
Nobody cheered.
That made it more powerful.
They simply stood.
Richard Whitmore sat alone in the middle of them.
Danielle's hands began trembling.
She hated that they were trembling.
She turned toward the kitchen.
“Ms. Brooks.”
Liang's voice stopped her.
She looked back.
He wasn't smiling.
“Your surname.”
Danielle frowned.
“What about it?”
“Brooks.”
“Yes.”
“Your Mandarin. Taipei. Da'an.”
His face had gone strangely pale.
“What was your mother's name?”
The room disappeared.
Danielle stared at him.
“Evelyn.”
Liang slowly removed his glasses.
“Dr. Evelyn Brooks?”
Danielle's heartbeat changed.
“Yes.”
Liang gripped the back of his chair.
“My God.”
Richard looked from Liang to Danielle.
“What?”
Danielle stepped closer.
“How do you know my mother?”
Liang didn't answer immediately.
His eyes were fixed on Danielle's face.
“She saved my company.”
Danielle stopped.
“What?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
He looked almost shaken.
“I had forty-three employees and six months before bankruptcy. Your mother spent three hours reviewing my books after a university seminar in Taipei.”
Danielle's throat tightened.
“She found a debt restructuring error. Then she introduced me to a cooperative bank.”
Liang looked around the restaurant.
“That six-month extension eventually became Tianyu.”
Danielle couldn't speak.
Her mother had been dead eleven years.
And somehow she was suddenly standing in the restaurant with them.
Liang reached into his jacket.
He removed his phone.
“There is something else.”
Richard's posture changed.
“What?”
Liang ignored him.
“Your mother and I remained in contact.”
Danielle stared.
“She emailed me occasionally.”
“When?”
“For years.”
“Why?”
Liang looked toward Richard.
The expression on his face made Danielle's stomach tighten.
“Because she was worried about a developer in Seattle.”
Richard stood abruptly.
“This is absurd.”
Liang turned his phone toward Danielle.
An old email was open.
Sender:
Dr. Evelyn Brooks.
Danielle covered her mouth.
Liang scrolled to the final paragraph.
The email was dated eleven years earlier.
Six months before her mother's death.
Danielle read.
Then she read it again.
If you ever encounter Richard Whitmore professionally, verify every environmental document yourself. The waterfront numbers were changed once before. I fear someone will try again.
Danielle slowly looked up.
Richard's face had drained of color.
“That's defamatory nonsense from a dead woman.”