Back at our table, we sip at liqueurs, nibble at slivers of mint chocolate. “It’s late,” says my Master. “Time for us to say goodnight.”
Will rises. “Goodnight, Richard.” He stoops to kiss my cheek. “Good night, Beth. I’ll be in touch next week about the next stage of the project.”
Irene’s brow furrows…
I rise, returning the cheek kiss. “I’ll have something for you later in the week, Will. To first draft level, at least.”
… and her eyes narrow. She mutters furiously at her husband, who merely shrugs her away. And my Master hasn’t missed any of it. His gaze flicks this way and that; me, Irene, her husband; but he appears calm.
Grace too, takes me at the shoulder as we exchange kisses. “It was lovely to meet you, Beth. We should all get together for dinner sometime.”
“I’d like that.” B
