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We closed the office, and to my surprise, Mrs. Elizabeth Tucker sat in the front seat with me on the ride home.I was cautious not to mention the invitation Tuck had extended to me. And since she didn't say anything, I assumed he would forget about inviting me. We parted, she to the house and me to the cottage. I went inside and discovered the sheets on my bed had been changed.Thirty minutes later I heard both Fiats arrive.It wasn't long before there was a knock on my door. I opened it to see Missy dressed in a black uniform with a white apron."Come in," I said, wanting to investigate if she was wearing panties under the uniform."I can't. You're to come to dinner at the house." Don't you want some mouth to mouth?" I asked and watched her grin, sheepishly. She stepped inside. We kissed, and I rubbed the inside of her thigh."Don't go any higher. You've got to get ready," she said, standing still as my hand went higher."Who told you to fetch me? Was it Tuck?" No, it was the missus. You. An attractive waitress in a long-sleeved jersey with a script "O'Grady's" emblazoned across her chest arrived immediately, ready to take their lunch order. Susan ordered a double Scotch and the waitress had the grace not to glance at the clock. Sam asked for a Carta Blanca.Susan was still agitated. Her face was an ever-changing landscape of anxious expressions, some of them causing shocking distortions of her features. She said nothing; her eyes were cast across the room, watching the bartender as he prepared her drink.They were served, and Susan took a healthy slug from her glass. Before the liquor could possibly have had any real effect, she visibly relaxed, arranged herself in the far inside corner of the large booth, and waited for it to do its work."O.K.," she said, finally. "Last Friday - 'week ago Friday -- Emma and I were having lunch near here, outside, right across the street -- there." She gestured behind her, toward the front of the restaurant. It looked as if she was.
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