At the department store where Haswell decided to gift me marriage advice a few days ago, Mitch displays her exchange: a pair of green court shoes. “Much better, don’t you think? They’ll be a far better match for the dress.”
I eye the shoes, identical to the ones returned. And since any clothes Mitch hangs on herself automatically look good, the whole affair seems to me to be a complete waste of time.
What would Haswell say?
“I’m sure they will.” I check my watch. “Time to pick up James.”
*****
In the Haswell offices, Kirstie greets us from the lobby desk with a smile. “Hi, Larry. Hi, Mitch. James told me to expect you. Go straight up.”
On the directors’ floor, we’re met by Haswell’s PA, an attractive woman, if slightly prim-looking. “Mr Waterman is it? And Mrs Waterman? Mr Alexanders
