Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Stayed
Caleb gave a short, dismissive laugh.
“He was asking for directions.”
Ben went pale.
Laurel recognized the expression.
He had worn it beside the broken soup bowls.
The certainty that a mistake, or simply being noticed, could cost him everything.
Margot pulled out a chair.
“Ben, sit down.”
“I’m supposed to be clearing starters.”
“I’ll arrange coverage.”
He sat on the edge.
The security director asked what he had seen.
Ben explained that he had been collecting extra place cards from the printer outside the banquet office.
Preston entered carrying an envelope.
Caleb was already inside.
The door stayed partly open.
“I heard my name,” Laurel said.
Ben nodded.
“What did he say?”
Ben glanced toward Caleb.
The security director moved slightly, putting himself in the line of sight between them.
“Tell us what you remember.”
“He said, ‘Once she’s off the floor, you’ll have the opening you wanted.’”
Caleb pushed away from the desk.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Margot’s voice sharpened.
“Let him finish.”
Ben’s hands shook.
Laurel wanted to tell him he could leave.
She also knew he had chosen to stay.
“Then Mr. Wade said something about the demonstration. He said nobody would blame Mr. Sutter if the existing system failed first.”
Laurel looked at the phone in her hand.
The duplicate auction packages.
The new support number.
The complaint timed eighteen minutes before dinner.
Pieces began finding their places.
“Did either man see you?” the security director asked.
“Mr. Sutter came out. He said important guests discuss things staff don’t need to worry about.”
Caleb stared at Ben.
“You’re misremembering.”
Ben flinched.
Laurel spoke quietly.
“You don’t need to argue with him.”
Margot stood.
“Caleb, please give me your access card.”
His expression changed.
“This is absurd.”
“Your access card.”
He placed it on the desk.
Security escorted him to a separate room.
Nobody called him guilty.
Nobody needed to.
The next steps could happen without leaving him in control of the systems being checked.
Margot asked Ben whether he would write down his account.
He nodded.
“And you will be paid for this time,” she added.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
Laurel changed in the adjoining restroom.
When she emerged, Elias was waiting in the corridor.
“Margot has your team restoring service,” he said.
“Good.”
He studied her face.
“Have you eaten?”
She almost said yes.
Then she remembered half a sandwich at three.
“No.”
He opened the nearby service door.
Chef Nolan stood inside, furious over something involving plate temperatures.
“Can you spare a meal?” Elias asked.
Nolan saw Laurel.
His expression softened.
“Sit down.”
“I have to—”
“You have to sit down for four minutes.”
He pointed to a stool.
A plate appeared.
Chicken, potatoes, green beans.
Nothing plated for a magazine.
Everything hot.
Laurel took a bite and discovered she was hungry enough to cry.
Elias stood by the doorway.
“You can go back to your table.”
“I will.”
“Preston’s been trying to get a meeting with you.”
“I’m aware.”
“Tonight was supposed to help.”
Elias considered that.
“He booked through a sponsor.”
“Of course he did.”
“My team rejected his product proposal last month. He requested another chance to demonstrate it.”
Laurel set down her fork.
“He never told me that.”
“He wouldn’t need to.”
“No,” she said slowly. “But Caleb did.”
June appeared with the tablet.
“The vendor restored the catalog. Bidding is clean. Nothing was lost.”
Laurel exhaled.
Then June lowered her voice.
“Preston’s telling people his software rescued the auction.”
Across the kitchen, Nolan stopped moving.
Elias looked toward the ballroom doors.
May you like
Laurel stood.
This time, she had no intention of walking away.
