“Hello dear. Tea?”
“Ah… sure…”
A man in an expensive suit, monogramed shirt, and Rolex, sat uncertainly at the dining room table. He took in the room, including the souvenir spoon collection. An aproned matron came in, carrying a tea service.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Look, ma’am, I…”
“Sit and sip, Mr. Bullock. I know why you’re here. You’ve come to the right place.”
He looked doubtful. “I don’t mean to insult…”
She looked over her half-glasses. “Look. It’s very simple. The coup you want to win is all in the details. Let me present the plan. Oh… I’m sorry. Sandwich?”
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