The card reader gave one sharp beep.
DECLINED appeared on the small screen.
Lauren stared at it as though the machine had insulted her personally.
Then she removed the card, wiped the chip against her cream sweater, and pushed it back in.
“Try it again,” she said.
Mr.
Bellamy did not move.
He stood beside the table with the black reservation folder tucked beneath one arm, his expression courteous but no longer warm.
“The transaction was attempted twice before I came in,” he said.
“A third attempt will not change the available credit.”
Ryan looked from the machine to the empty chair across from him.
My untouched plate had already been removed, but my folded napkin remained beside the roses.
“What happened to the card that was holding the reservation?” he asked.
Mr.
Bellamy opened the folder.
“The authorization belonged to Mrs.
Carter.
Her written instruction stated that it was to be withdrawn if she left before dessert.”
Lauren’s face hardened.
“That’s ridiculous.
This is her birthday dinner.”
“Yes,” Mr.
Bellamy said.
“It was.”
The words landed harder than any accusation.
Beyond the frosted doors, a server paused.
A few diners turned their heads when Lauren raised her voice.
“She booked this for us,” Lauren said.
“She can’t just disappear and leave us with the bill because she got offended by a joke.”
Mr.
Bellamy’s gaze moved to my empty chair and back to her.
“She can withdraw her own payment authorization for any reason.”
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“How much is it?”
Mr.
Bellamy named the total.
The private room fee, flowers, three dinners, wine, desserts, and drinks had pushed the amount far beyond what Ryan expected.
Lauren had ordered freely because she assumed the night was being paid for by someone she had just mocked for not paying.
“That can’t be right,” she said.
Mr.
Bellamy placed the itemized bill facedown on the table.
“You are welcome to review it.”
Lauren pulled out her phone.
“I’ll call Martha.”
Ryan caught her wrist before she could tap my name.
“No.”
It was the first firm word he had spoken all evening.
Lauren looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You already said enough to her.”
“And you said nothing.”
Ryan’s hand dropped.
The truth of that accusation silenced him.
He took out his debit card.
His emergency savings account held enough to cover the bill, but only barely.
He had been putting that money aside for months because his car needed transmission work.
