"That explains a lot."
Matthew smiled carefully.
"She's not a bad person."
Imani looked at him.
"Neither was the Titanic."
Matthew laughed despite himself.
Then his expression became serious.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Do you want me to handle it?"
"No."
"Imani."
"I'm fine, Matthew."
He studied her for a moment.
Then nodded.
"All right."
A few minutes later, Charles Whitmore approached.
Lauren's father was nothing like his daughter.
He was sixty-one, silver-haired, reserved, and known for speaking less when he had more to say.
He shook Imani's hand.
"Ms. Brooks."
"Mr. Whitmore."
"I've been meaning to congratulate you."
"For winning?"
"For beating us."
Imani smiled.
"I didn't know your company was bidding."
"It was."
"And you're not angry?"
Charles shrugged.
"Business isn't personal."
He looked toward the terrace.
"My daughter could learn that."
Imani almost laughed.
Then Lauren appeared.
Charles turned.
"Lauren. Come here."
Lauren approached reluctantly.
"This is Imani Brooks."
Lauren forced a smile.
"We've met."
Charles looked surprised.
"You have?"
"Briefly."
Imani said nothing.
Charles continued.
"She's the project lead for the Bellweather renovation."
Lauren looked at Imani.
Then at her father.
Then back at Imani.
"The entire project?"
"Yes."
Charles smiled.
"She's the reason we're preserving the original courtyard."
Lauren's face tightened.
She had expected an employee.
Instead, she had encountered a decision-maker.
A woman who had the authority to alter the very building Lauren treated as part of her personal world.
Charles excused himself.
Lauren remained.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said.
Imani nodded.
"Thank you."
Lauren hesitated.
"I didn't know."
"I noticed."
That answer landed harder than an accusation.
Lauren's lips tightened.
"Well, now you know."
Imani looked at her.
"Now we both know."
Then she walked away.
Behind her, Lauren stood completely still.
For the first time, the woman in the white shirt had become difficult to dismiss.
But Lauren still hadn't understood something.
Imani wasn't interested in winning an argument.
She was interested in what happened after the argument.
And Bellweather was about to give her plenty to observe.
The Pattern
By three o'clock, the luncheon had ended.
Guests drifted through the terrace, taking photographs beneath white umbrellas.
Imani sat near the hotel library, reviewing a final document on her laptop.
Her project coordinator had discovered a discrepancy in the demolition schedule.
Imani corrected it.
Then she noticed a shadow fall across the table.
Lauren.
"You really don't hold grudges, do you?"
Imani looked up.
"No."
Lauren pulled out a chair.
"Can I sit?"
Imani closed the laptop halfway.
"Sure."
Lauren sat.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Lauren said, "I was embarrassed."
"I know."
"You could have told me who you were."
"You could have asked."
Lauren looked away.
"That's fair."
It was the first genuinely honest thing she had said all day.
Imani waited.
Lauren took off her sunglasses.
"My friends think you made me look stupid."
"I didn't make you do anything."
Lauren looked at her.
"I know."
A silence followed.
Then Paige appeared.
"Lauren, we're going downstairs."
She stopped when she saw Imani.
Her expression immediately hardened.
"You."
Imani didn't react.
Paige crossed her arms.
"You really embarrassed Lauren."
Lauren frowned.
"Paige."
"What? You did."
Imani looked at Lauren.
"Your friend is entitled to her opinion."
Paige scoffed.
"You're acting like you're better than everyone."
"No."
"Then why are you talking to us like that?"
Imani closed her laptop.
"Because you asked me a question and I answered."
Paige opened her mouth.
Lauren stopped her.
"Enough."
Paige stared.
Lauren stood.
"Let's go."
As they walked away, Imani noticed something.
Lauren looked back.
Not angrily.
Curiously.
That mattered.
Because the day had started with assumptions.
But now Lauren had begun asking questions.
Unfortunately, other people had not.
Over the next several weeks, Imani began visiting Bellweather several times a week.
She met contractors.
Reviewed drawings.
Inspected mechanical systems.
Walked the service corridors.
Interviewed staff.
And slowly discovered that the behavior she had experienced was not isolated.
A young Black server told her that guests sometimes asked whether she was "actually employed by Bellweather."
A Black concierge described being stopped by visitors who assumed he was waiting for a rideshare.
A Latina housekeeper said a guest once handed her a pile of personal clothing and asked her to take it to the laundry.
An older Black maintenance supervisor laughed when Imani asked whether this happened often.