A bill for two hundred thousand, shoved into my hands, with some claim about my mother-in-law?
If I rolled over and accepted that, I'd have to be out of my mind.
Janet's expression turned ugly. "President Dickerson, the woman is absolutely your mother-in-law."
"I've personally seen you dining with her here more than once."
She didn't waver, and something in me went still and cold.
I came here strictly for client dinners. Every person I'd ever brought was a business contact.
Yet Janet was claiming I'd dined with this person before.
Insisting, over and over, that the woman was my mother-in-law.
I kept my voice level, but I didn't soften it. "Janet Gilbert, you've got the wrong person."
"I know exactly how many meals I've had in this restaurant."
"And when have I ever brought someone in for a two-hundred-thousand dinner?"
I jabbed my finger at the bill. "Eight bottles of premium wine alone, over ten thousand each."
"You really think I'm going to pay for that?"
Janet's face went ashen. She stared at me, then suddenly spoke again. "President Dickerson, I've already been more than generous letting you dine here tonight—don't push it."