Chapter Thirteen
Miles was glum as he took the last bite of his chocolate gateau. “Do I really have to have a drink with Bettina, Myrtle? She may get the wrong impression.”
“She will not get the wrong impression. I won’t allow it. I’m going to have a drink with you and ask questions. There will be nothing in the least that could be considered romantic about any of it.”
Miles glanced at Myrtle’s plate. “Didn’t you like your dessert?”
“It baffled me. I don’t like it when my food is confusing. It didn’t seem to want to be eaten,” said Myrtle. “I cut one with my knife and fork, but the reward didn’t seem worth the labor. That will teach me to order anything with a French name. I need to eat desserts with names like cheesecake or pudding.”
Miles pushed his plate away and then stood, courte
