Ignoring the girl's flawless extended hand, Greta slid aside the tray and dropped the form on the table before Matthew. She made sure to use her left hand.
The door slid open and the hostess poked her head in. "Would you like a menu?" she asked graciously.
"Go away," Greta snapped. The door slid closed.
"We were just going over some notes," Matthew said, still indulging in his farce. "For a speech I'll be giving in a few weeks."
"Is that so?" Greta said. "And where will you be speaking,
Matthew, Sea World?
More composed now, Laurence eyed her tormentor with plain contempt. "This is not what you think, Mrs. Locke," she said.
"Butt out. This business is between my husband and I." She flicked the form into Matthew's lap, then slapped a gold pen down on the table. "Sign it."
"Greta! This is for a quarter-million dollars," he said, his voice disbelieving. "What the hell are you doing?"
She gave her husband an impatient look. "Matthew, either you shut up and sign that, or I walk out there and announce your fishy little affair with Flipper here."
He considered this, looked down at the form. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said, and picked up the pen.