The waiter returned with the restaurant manager less than three minutes later.
The manager was a tall man in a charcoal suit named Mr. Bennett.
He took one look at my soaked dress and immediately understood that something was wrong.
“Madam, are you hurt?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “But I would like this incident documented.”
Spencer rolled his eyes.
“This is a private family disagreement. There’s no need to make a scene.”
Mr. Bennett looked at the wine dripping from my sleeves.
“Sir, throwing a drink at another guest is not acceptable in this establishment.”
Gertrude straightened in her chair.
“She’s his wife. Surely a husband can have a disagreement with his own wife without everyone interfering.”
The manager remained professional.
“Ma’am, being married doesn’t give anyone permission to assault another person.”
Spencer’s expression darkened.
He turned toward me.
“Tell them this is a misunderstanding.”
I took a clean napkin from the table and dried my face.
