Chapter 26: The Firing
Mara turned from the door and looked across the salon until her gaze found Ryan Maddox, who had spent the confrontation pressed against the edge of the room, trying to hide.
"Mr. Maddox," Mara said, her voice carrying clearly now. "Please step forward."
Maddox paled. "Ms. Winters, I, that is, I think there has been enough drama for one evening."
"There has been enough dishonesty for one evening," Mara said. "And you are part of it. Step forward."
He came forward slowly, straightening his jacket, reaching for his usual charm. It did not carry him now. The room was watching, and the room had just learned how to watch.
"Ryan," Mara said, "this morning you mistook me for event help. You ordered me to move a podium, to fetch coffee, to add chairs. I let you, because Henry's day mattered more than my pride. But you did something worse than rudeness, and we are going to talk about it now."
Maddox forced a smile. "I do not know what you mean."
"Yes, you do," Mara said. "Jaz Moreno restored the interior of a 1967 coupe. Three weeks of work. Late nights. Perfect seams. You took her name off the photographs, told a customer it was your restoration, and told Jaz, in front of two other salesmen, that no one would believe a nineteen year old over a senior salesman."
"I supervised that job," Maddox said quickly. "Every shop has a chain of command. Credit flows upward. That is normal."
"Credit flows to the hands that did the work," Mara said. "That is normal here. Jaz, will you show the room your notebook?"
Jaz stepped forward, her hands trembling, and held up the notebook full of dates, sketches, and notes in her neat handwriting.
"Every day," Jaz said, her voice clear despite the shaking. "What I did, what went wrong, what I fixed. The thread color. The stitch count. The nights I stayed late. It is all here."
"Mr. Maddox," Mara said, "what thread did you use on the seats?"
Maddox blinked. "What?"
"The thread," Mara said, as she had that morning in the bay. "What color? What weight? How many stitches per inch?"
"I supervised it," Maddox said. "I do not memorize thread counts."
"Jaz does," Mara said. "Because she did the work. And Rosa saw her do it. And the customer saw her do it. You are the only person in this room who claims otherwise."
Rosa stepped forward, her voice firm. "It is true. I gave Jaz the job. I watched her do it. I put her name on the board. Mr. Maddox took it down."
A murmur ran through the guests, with an edge of anger.
"Ryan," Mara said, "you humiliated a young woman for doing excellent work, you stole her credit, and then you lied about it, twice, to her face and to mine. That is not a mistake. That is a pattern. And patterns have consequences."
Maddox looked around the room for an ally and found none. Even the salesmen he had impressed were looking at their shoes.
"Ms. Winters," he said, his voice thinner now, "I have been with Vantara for years. I bring in clients. I close deals. You cannot fire me over an apprentice's notebook."
"I can," Mara said, "and I am. Ryan Maddox, you are fired, effective immediately, for credit theft, for humiliating a colleague, and for lying about it. Clear your desk tonight. Rosa will escort you. Your final pay will be handled by our office promptly, because this company does things properly even when it is angry."
The room was silent. Maddox stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing without words.
"Jaz," Mara said, turning to her with warmth, "come here."
Jaz came, uncertain, and Mara took the notebook gently and held it up.
"This," Mara said to the room, "is the work. And the name on the work is Jasmine Moreno. Starting today, her name goes back on the board, on the photographs, and on the records. And starting today, she is not an apprentice who needs permission to be proud. She is a craftsperson this company is proud of."
Applause broke out, first from Rosa, then from Henry, then from the whole room.
Jaz wiped her eyes and laughed through tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Mara."
"Thank you, Jaz," Mara said. "You kept the notebook. You kept showing up. No one rewrites that. Not today. Not ever."
Maddox walked out with Rosa beside him, silent, and the salon felt lighter, as if a window had been opened after a stale afternoon.
Mara looked at the Solstice, at Henry, at Jaz, and felt the compass in her pocket, steady as ever.
"Now," she said softly, "I think it is time to take this car for a drive."