For a moment, he stood near the doorway looking uncomfortable.
Naomi approached.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Takamura."
He nodded.
"Miss Brooks."
They sat near the long lacquered table.
The room had been cleaned.
The broken porcelain was gone.
And ordinary tea bowls had replaced the antique used that night.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then the billionaire looked toward Naomi.
"I owe you an apology."
She waited.
He took a breath.
"The way I spoke to you was unacceptable."
Naomi nodded slightly.
He continued.
"I assumed you knew nothing about Japanese tea because of how you looked and the job you were doing."
For a moment, he seemed ashamed.
"I tried to embarrass you."
Naomi looked directly at him.
"Yes, you did."
The billionaire lowered his eyes.
He didn't argue.
For several seconds, he remained quiet.
Then he continued.
"When you warned me, I didn't listen. I was more concerned about being challenged than understanding what you saw."
Naomi felt her throat tighten.
He looked toward the table.
"I understand now how dangerous that was."
She nodded.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the chairman asked something unexpected.
"Where did you learn to recognize problems during tea service?"
Naomi considered the question.
Then told him about Mrs. Morita.
The old tea house near Kyoto.
The bamboo whisk.
And the gentle woman who taught her that care began before someone lifted the cup.
As she spoke, the billionaire's expression changed.
He leaned forward.
"Morita?"
Naomi nodded.
"Yes."
He stared.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then asked which village she'd lived near.
Naomi told him.
The billionaire's face became pale.
He knew the village.
He knew the tea house.
And he remembered a woman named Mrs. Morita who had spent decades opposing careless changes to the family's mountain estates.
For years, he'd dismissed her letters as nostalgic complaints from an elderly grower.
Now he realized that the Black waitress who saved his life had learned tea service from the very woman he'd refused to take seriously.
The revelation unsettled him more than the apology.
After Naomi described the tea house, the billionaire asked whether Mrs. Morita was still alive.
Naomi's smile faded.
"She passed away two years ago."
He looked down.
For a moment, regret crossed his face.
Then he asked whether she had family still living in the village.
Naomi explained that several relatives remained, along with growers who maintained the surrounding terraces.
She hadn't visited in years.
But she remained in contact with some of the people who knew her as a teenager.
The billionaire sat quietly.
Then said.
"My mother used to buy tea from that family."
Naomi looked surprised.
He continued.