Rich As Sin. Anne Mather
know we don’t close until half-past five,’ she said. ‘If you want to lie about it, you do it. He wasn’t too pleased when I brought his sandwich, so don’t expect me to do your dirty work.’
Samantha grimaced. ‘I’m only asking you to fib a little. He doesn’t know anything about this place.’
‘How do you know that?’
Debbie was looking at her with that curious look again, and Samantha expelled a frustrated sigh. ‘I don’t—know—not for sure. But you haven’t seen him round here before, have you? It’s obvious he’s not going to know what our hours are.’
‘They’re written on the door,’ retorted Debbie flatly, and Samantha acknowledged that she had forgotten that.
‘OK,’ she said, giving in. ‘I’ll go and see if he’s finished.’
He looked up as she reached the table, and, seeing who it was, he folded the newspaper and put it aside. ‘Very nice,’ he said, and for a moment she was so nervous, she didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘The sandwich,’ he prompted, noticing her blank expression. ‘As good as any I’ve tasted. You had the consistency of the cheese just right.’
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