As Tonya set down the meals, she watched the diners’ faces for reactions. Some of the brave souls who ventured out demanded the full restaurant experience complete with their server’s mask-muffled explanation of the spice rub coating the steak. Others wanted her to leave as soon as the last dish touched the table.

Judging from her patrons’ averted eyes, Tonya decided that this group belonged to the latter category. She thanked them for braving the weather and then backed out into it, hoping they could detect her smile from the corners of her exposed eyes. Her best chance at earning a decent tip was this table. No line waited to be seated in the empty huts.

“Miss.” One of the female diners called out from an opening in the plastic. “Could we get four hot toddies and two slices of chocolate cake to share?”

They were already ordering dessert so as to not wait an extra second in the cold. That meant they wouldn’t want another bottle of wine, which meant her tip wouldn’t reflect the usual alcohol bonus of two bottles to four guests. Tonya felt her smile fade as she responded with a bright “of course” before retreating into the restaurant.

Banque Gauche’s dining room was more pleasant than its igloos, though far too opulent to feel cozy. That was by design, Tonya figured. The vast space had catered to business clientele during the day and the theater crowd at night. It had made money by churning out Michelin-starred small plates and turning over tables, not encouraging diners to loiter.

In its prime, the restaurant had operated with the efficiency of the bank it had once been, the essence of which remained in the decor. Glass fireplaces stretched inside sleek marble walls that had once borne the logo of a savings and loan. Velvet curtains flanked massive arched windows. The space’s designers had even preserved the long mahogany bank teller’s desk, transforming it via gold inlays into a bar worthy of Versailles. They’d repurposed the security grates as hip room dividers separating the kitchen from the dining area.

All those details still shone, advertising the money that Banque Gauche had once minted and the million-dollar refresh that the space had undergone three years earlier. The only visual cues that the restaurant had fallen on hard times were the lack of fresh linens atop wooden tables and the metal wall at the room’s far end.