Gideon read the list in the Morning Room while an ordinary guest dropped a spoon.
The spoon struck the floor with a small, emphatic sound.
Gideon looked round.
June brought another before he could suggest anything.
He returned to the list.
“Eve Strachan.”
“Yes,” Vivian said.
“You know her.”
“She stays.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to ask her.”
He put a mark beside the name.
Frankie sat opposite him. Nina stood near the window, her laptop open on a small table which June had allowed her to use until lunch.
There were names Gideon could check: Ruth Ives, Estelle Park, Cal Owen, Marion Tew, local artists and people Nina had worked with; a few guests Vivian knew through the hotel; Arthur, who had accepted because he already ate there and wanted to see what all the work had been for.
“Ruth is singing?”
“Yes,” Nina said.
“During?”
“After the welcome.”
“Could it be before?”
“Briefly, perhaps. Not underneath speech.”
“Why?”
“She won't sing under someone talking.”
He smiled.
“A proper performer.”
“Yes.”
“And the rest?”
“A responsive room,” Nina said.
He looked up.
“Will they understand what I want?”
“They'll know where the welcome sits, when to gather, how the evening moves. I'll direct it.”
“Paid?”
“People are being paid for the work they do.”
“And they'll stay in it.”
“The ensemble will.”
Frankie could hear the lie in the space Nina left between the words. The ensemble included paid performers. The room included people who'd come for a genuine theatrical supper. Gideon was letting the first account for the second because he'd already paid once to believe a company admired him.
He wouldn't miss the distinction if he chose to examine it.
He went back to the list.
“Marion Tew.”
“Duncan knows her,” Frankie said.
“From?”
“The shop.”
Gideon smiled.
“Not Lorne's old school.”
“No.”
“He's being very literal now.”
“He can.”
“Is she good?”
Frankie held his gaze.
“At coming to supper?”
“Will she make the company look credible?”
“She'll be herself.”
He considered.
“That's what I want it to look like.”
Nina closed the laptop enough to draw his attention.
“The launch is larger than the preview. I need people who can behave naturally without waiting for a line every time they move.”
“Agreed.”
“Then don't give each of them a line.”
“I'll give you the moment.”
“Yes.”
She hadn't agreed to what the moment would mean.
He seemed satisfied.
Frankie wasn't.
On Saturday they arranged the tables with the actual numbers.
Some people had accepted late. Two had declined. One wanted to bring a companion; Vivian said yes without asking Frankie, who nearly objected before realising she had no reason except the absence of control.
June had ordinary residents to feed as well.
“Nobody is losing supper because someone's decided they aren't in the show.”
“They won't,” Nina said.
“Write it down.”
Nina wrote it down.
Frankie carried chairs.
Estelle came to see the room before committing to the longer evening. She'd agreed to a declared theatrical role, Ada retained as an invented guest in the welcome, then herself when the room broke for supper.
She looked at the actual invitations.
“This is clearer.”
“Yes.”
“Better.”
Cal had asked whether his patron could still enjoy furniture. Nina said it would be difficult to stop him.
Frankie placed a chair at the ceremonial table.
“How many here?”
“Enough for the welcome,” Nina said. “Not everyone.”
“And afterwards?”
“Ordinary tables.”
Gideon had wanted the company round the old table. The Ballroom could hold more people than the Table could seat. They would have to gather standing, with supper visibly available nearby.
He might dislike that.
He might insist the doors be made less visible.
Frankie looked towards the Morning Room.
June was speaking to a woman carrying two vases. She took one, put it on a table and removed it because a guest wouldn't be able to see over it.
There was no grand solution. There would be a room with food, people making choices and Gideon wanting the choices to mean what he'd bought.
Vivian placed the old leaf holders on the dais.
“These are only for the Table.”
“Fine,” Nina said.
“They don't go on every little supper table.”
“They won't.”
Frankie moved a chair so a waiter could pass.
Vivian looked at the change.
“That's too far.”
“June needs the route.”
“It makes the place look empty.”
June, who had heard, came through the doors.
“It makes it look as though someone can bring the soup.”
Vivian said nothing.
Nina checked the passage again.
Sol arrived carrying a small case.
“Where?”
“Here,” Nina said.
He put it down where he could see the dais and the wide doors.
Frankie watched him test the position. He'd need to know what people were doing, not just what someone had planned.
Gideon sent a message while she was holding a chair.
List acceptable. No last-minute company I haven't seen.
She showed Nina.
Nina read it.
“He's seen the names.”
“Not what they'll do.”
“Neither have we.”
It should have been reassuring.
Instead Frankie felt the exact size of the risk they were taking.
She put down the chair.
A woman she'd never met had agreed to come because Vivian said the room would be lovely. A singer had agreed because she would be paid and allowed to sing. Marion would know Duncan. Eve would know the hotel.
They hadn't come to punish anybody.
If Gideon gave them a moment to respond to, they might sit quietly because it wasn't their argument.
Frankie folded the list without adding instructions.