“No,” the server said from behind him. “His wheel touched an empty chair. He apologized immediately.”
Cindy spun toward her. “You weren’t part of the conversation.”
“I saw the whole thing,” the server replied.
“Was anyone hurt?”
Jeff looked at me. “I can move your family to another table while I handle this.”
“We’re staying here.”
“It would give your son some privacy.”
“Liam didn’t ask for privacy. He asked to finish dinner.”
Liam looked up. “I want to stay here.”
“Liam didn’t ask for privacy.”
Jeff nodded slowly. “All right, son.”
He turned toward Cindy. “Please return to your table.”
“Wait,” I said.
Cindy’s mouth curved as if she thought I had softened.
I stepped into the aisle.
“She said Liam’s wheelchair was ruining everyone’s meal. She also said she was speaking for the room.”
“Please return to your table.”
“I never said everyone agreed with me,” Cindy snapped.
“You said nobody wanted his chair here.”
Several diners were already watching.
I faced them. “Has Liam stopped anyone from eating or moving through the aisle?”
A woman near the window shook her head. “No, of course not.”
I faced them.
An older man lifted his hand. “Two servers passed behind him without trouble.”
Another diner added, “He hasn’t bothered anyone.”
Cindy’s face flushed. “This is embarrassing.”
I kept my voice even. “You walked up to a child and told him that his presence spoiled dinner. Now, you’re uncomfortable because people heard you.”
“He hasn’t bothered anyone.”
Jeff turned to the server. “Did Cindy complain before approaching them?”
“Yes. She asked me to move the family. I checked the aisle and told her the table was fine.”
Cindy stared at her. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I did.”
“Then what exactly is the problem?” I asked.
Before Cindy could answer, a young man and woman approached her table. He carried a small envelope, and she held a cake box.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Mom?” the man said. “Why is everyone staring?”
Cindy’s expression changed.
