“The face where you imagine corporate assassination.”
“I watch television.”
“You watch too much television.”
“What happens if it’s deliberate?”
“I translate.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s my job.”
Her mother leaned back.
“You know something?”
“What?”
“Your father would hate that answer.”
She smiled sadly.
Her father had been a high-school history teacher.
He believed rules mattered.
He also believed rules became excuses when people used them to avoid moral decisions.
He used to tell her:
“Neutrality does not mean blindness.”
She had argued with him endlessly.
Now he was gone, and his sentences had become more powerful because she could no longer debate them.
Her mother reached for the coffee.
“Do your job.”
“Yes.”
“And if somebody’s crooked?”
“I translate their crookedness accurately.”
“Good.”
The daughter smiled.
“That sounds more like Dad.”
“Unfortunately.”
She arrived at the restaurant before eleven.
The restaurant manager met her near the service station.
“You’re on private room two.”
She stopped.
“Who?”
The manager checked the reservation tablet.
“Northbridge Capital.”
The waitress recognized the name.
She kept her face neutral.
The manager continued.
“Very rich.”
“Very particular.”
“Very allergic to being told no.”
“Lovely.”
“One of them complained last month because his sparkling water had the wrong mineral composition.”
“That sentence makes me want to go home.”
“No.”
The manager handed her a service card.
“Lunch begins at twelve fifteen.”
She looked at the guest list.
The millionaire’s name was there.
So was the chairman.
Her stomach tightened.
The acquisition group.
The same people she was interpreting for tomorrow.
She looked at the manager.
“I may have a conflict.”
“What kind?”
“I’m contracted for a professional service involving some of these guests tomorrow.”
The manager’s face changed.
“Should I move you?”
She thought.
Professional ethics.
No privileged information had been shared yet.
Serving lunch was not inherently conflicting.
But perceptions mattered.
“I’ll tell the chairman’s counsel when they arrive.”
“Good.”
The manager lowered his voice.
“And if they want another server, no problem.”
The general counsel arrived first.
The waitress quietly explained.
The lawyer recognized her name.
Then smiled.
“You’re the interpreter.”
“Yes.”
“You work here?”
“Apparently.”
The lawyer seemed to catch herself before asking a stupid question.
“Any concern serving today?”
“Only if you think there is.”
The counsel shook her head.
“This lunch is social.”
“No negotiation.”
“No confidential discussion beyond ordinary business background.”
“If anything changes, I’ll ask for another server.”
“Thank you.”
Then the chairman arrived.
The lawyer introduced them discreetly near the coat room.
The chairman shook her hand.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
He smiled.
“My counsel says your technical Mandarin is excellent.”