of champagne, chuckling softly with Julian and Beatrice about how "out of place" Clara had always been in the Sterling family circle.
What Victoria didn't know was what had occurred in the foyer thirty seconds after Clara left the table.
Clara hadn't locked herself in the restroom to cry. She had walked straight to the maître d's station, pulled a sleek metallic black card from her handbag, and handed it to the head of guest services.
"Revoke the master corporate line for Table 4," Clara told the attendant in a low, unwavering voice. "Effective immediately. Let them pay with their own personal accounts."
Back in the main dining room, a tall, professional waiter carrying a heavy black leather leather bill presentation folder approached Table 4.
He stopped beside Victoria, bowing slightly. "Good evening, Mrs. Sterling. There appears to be a minor issue with the table's settlement."