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“She’s asked me to let you know that she won’t be dining with you this evening. I’m so sorry.”
He blew out an annoyed sigh. “And she was too chicken to even tell me herself. Nice. I knew there was something weird about her.”
“Right,” I said, my tone clipped and my hand trying to flex into a fist. “Well, your table is still available if you—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, that’s fine. Give it to someone else.” He turned and walked back his car, muttering to himself.
As soon as he backed out of his spot I walked back to the restaurant, fighting the urge to whistle to myself.
I went inside, advised the hostess that Mr. Blanther would not be joining them after all and turning up the charm to request his table.
Deviousness is a skill that can be learned.
