"Daniel."
He stopped.
"Take your hand off me."
His fingers had barely reached the fabric of my sleeve, and he withdrew them immediately.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Madeline gave a short laugh.
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
That was the moment I understood the conversation had gone as far as it could.
I could continue explaining myself.
I could show her the confirmation I had received.
I could describe when the reservation had been made and who had arranged it.
But I had already given her enough information to find it.
The problem was no longer that she lacked information.
The problem was that she had decided my appearance made the information irrelevant.
I opened my handbag.
The leather was worn smooth around the clasp.
Inside were my gloves, a folded handkerchief, a small wallet, and an old silver flip phone.
I took out the phone.
Someone near the bar laughed.
"Seriously?"
The young man looked toward his companion, clearly delighted.
I ignored him.
I had owned that telephone for years because it did exactly what I needed it to do.
It made calls.
I opened it and pressed a familiar number.
Madeline stared at me.
"Calling someone isn't going to change our reservation policy."
I listened to the ringing.
"Ma'am, I really must insist."
The call connected.
A voice answered from the other end.
I recognized the receptionist and spoke calmly.
"Good afternoon, please put Mr. Ortega on the line."
There was a pause.
I listened.
"No, I don't need his assistant."
Madeline rolled her eyes.
I continued speaking into the telephone.
"Please tell him Lena Brooks is at the entrance."
The receptionist said something I could not quite hear over the sounds of the dining room.
I repeated my name.
"Lena Brooks."
A moment later, her tone changed.
I heard hurried movement, followed by a muffled conversation.
Madeline watched with folded arms.
"Whoever you're calling, it won't make a difference."
I waited until another voice came onto the line.
"Mrs. Brooks?"
"Hello, Mr. Ortega."
There was immediate concern in his voice.
"Is everything all right?"
I looked directly at Madeline.
"I seem to be having some difficulty with my reservation."
"What difficulty?"
"The hostess says I don't have one."
There was silence.
I continued.
"She has asked security to remove me."
The silence deepened.
Then Mr. Ortega spoke.
"Where are you?"
"At the entrance."
"Please don't leave."
"I wasn't planning to."