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Chapter Five

Hamish had chattedwith the maître d' in charge of allocating breakfast tables in the dining room. He watched her now, wending her way through tables filled with people until she reached his table for two pressed against a window. He rose to his feet.

“Your guest, sir.” The woman melted into the background.

“You missed this yesterday.” Hamish gestured towards the view. “So, I bagged the best table today.”

“Did you have to fight off a hoard?” Lela slid onto the chair he held for her.

“Nuh.” He shrugged. “Just used my best negotiating skills. When I arrived, I said I was meeting someone and could wait for a table by the window.”

“What if I’d arrived sooner?” She rested her chin in her hand.

“I’d have moved to Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“Accepted what was offered.”

“That’s very amenable of you. Couldn’t you throw a tantrum, strut backwards and forwards and demand the best in an overbearing and loud voice?” She snapped her fingers in the air as if to command attention.

“Is that what your father does?”

“Papa makes sure he’s known where he’s going, so the way is paved in advance.”

“Then it’s the merchant banking crowd who are rude and arrogant.” He pointed a finger at her in a gotcha gesture.

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

“I never did have a high opinion of them.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She looked around with interest. “What’s the deal?”

“A buffet. You’ll have to wait on yourself.”

“I like making my own choices.”