The dinner was supposed to be dull.
It was an annual gathering for entrepreneurs and investors, held in a hotel ballroom with white tablecloths and low music. She wore a simple navy dress and an expression that said she would leave as soon as it was polite.
"Ella Williams?"
She turned. A man was standing beside her, holding two glasses. He was tall, with a calm face and a navy suit that actually fit. He looked about thirty.
"Yes?"
"I'm Nathan Brooks. I wanted to say that I read your interview last month. The one about GEE Grand."
"Oh." Ella accepted a glass automatically. "Thank you."
"You said something I haven't been able to forget. You said, 'A business is a promise you keep every day.'"
"I said that?"
"You did."
She almost smiled. "It sounded better in my head."
"It sounded true." He held out his hand. "My family runs one of the largest logistics companies in the region. Our executives and visiting partners stay in this city for weeks at a time, and we host conferences all year. We have been looking for a long-term hotel partner. I hear GEE Grand is the best in town. I would like to talk."
Business, Ella thought. Good. Business I can handle.
"Call my office," she said briskly. "My assistant will arrange something."
"I will." He did not seem offended. If anything, he looked amused. "Though I hope the meeting is with you, not your assistant."
"It depends how serious your offer is."
"Very serious."
They talked for twenty minutes. He asked sharp questions about her occupancy rates, her staffing, her approach to service. He did not flatter her.
He did not talk down to her. When she described the way she trained the front-desk staff to remember every guest's name, he listened with an expression she recognized from the faces of her best customers: genuine interest.
By the end of the evening, she realized she had forgotten to check her watch.
"I should go," she said.
"Of course." He stepped back. "May I walk you to your car?"
"No, thank you."
"Fair enough." He gave a small bow, almost old-fashioned. "It was a pleasure, Miss Williams."
She drove home with a strange, restless feeling she did not like. It was the kind of feeling she had trained herself to avoid. A small flutter somewhere under her ribs.
Stop, she told herself sharply. It was business. He wants a supplier.
But when she walked into the new house and saw Grace sitting on the sofa, Watching a talk show, Grace looked up and said:
"You are smiling."
"I am not."
"You are. Who made you smile?"
"Nobody. A client."
Grace studied her for a long moment.
"Hmm," she said, in a tone only mothers have.