Chapter 2 - The Itemized Bill
At 4:15 PM, the long, extravagant lunch finally reached its conclusion.
Theresa’s friends were laughing loudly, collecting their designer purses, slipping on silk scarves, and praising Theresa for her incredible generosity and her family's marvelous hospitality.
Theresa stood at the head of the table, holding court like a monarch granting audience to her loyal subjects.
"Don't worry about a thing, ladies!" Theresa announced loudly, her voice carrying out to the main lobby where three dinner-reservation guests were already waiting. "Everything is taken care of! It's the least I can do for my inner circle!"
David walked into the private room holding a silver presenter tray. On top lay a crisp, four-page itemized register receipt.
He walked past the guests and set the tray directly on the table in front of Theresa.
Theresa glanced down at the paper with a amused, careless smile. "Oh, David, you don't need to hand me an internal tally. Just charge it to the house account under Mark's name as usual."
David didn't move. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, his posture rigid.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Stanhope," David said, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear clearly. "Aura does not maintain a house account for family members. Chef Elena’s directive is absolute. All non-event dining must be settled at the time of service."
Theresa’s smile froze. Her eyes snapped up to David's face, her aristocratic composure cracking into a harsh, sharp glare.
"What did you just say to me?" Theresa hissed under her breath, dropping her voice into a furious whisper.
"The total for the afternoon is fourteen thousand, eight hundred and sixty-two dollars and forty cents," David announced calmly, reading the bottom line of the receipt. "That includes the ten-course tasting menu for thirty-nine guests, six bottles of reserve Napa Cabernet, two bottles of Opus One, and the mandatory twenty percent service charge for large parties."
The thirty-eight women standing around the table stopped talking instantly.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the private dining room.
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"Is this a joke?" Theresa asked, her cheeks turning a blotchy, mottled red beneath her expensive foundation. "Where is Elena? Call her out here right now!"
"Chef Elena has already left the building to attend a private meeting with her legal counsel," David replied smoothly. "She instructed me to inform you that we accept all major credit cards, cash, or cashier's checks. How would you like to settle the bill today?"
