After Clark left the table, Marjorie made forced conversation with his mother.
Her mind, however, was completely consumed by the urgent phone call Clark had just taken. She was sure she’d heard a woman's voice on the other end.
She glanced in the direction Clark had gone, a woman’s intuition compelling her to follow him, to see what was going on.
Her eyes fell on her wine glass, and a clever idea sparked within her.
Marjorie picked up her fork to get some food, and just then, her hand 'accidentally' knocked over her glass.
"Oh!" she gasped.
The wine glass tipped over, spilling its contents all over her dress.
Marjorie stood up apologetically. "I'm so sorry, I need to run to the restroom."
Clark's mother saw the stain on her dress and was inwardly disgusted.
*What kind of klutz spills a glass of wine like that?* she thought.
Outwardly, however, she maintained the posture of a warm, considerate elder. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.
Marjorie knew it was just a polite offer. She waved her hand dismissively. "No, that's alright. I can handle it myself."
With that, Marjorie left the private dining room.
She didn't go to the restroom. Instead, she began searching the entire restaurant floor for Clark.
But after a full sweep, he was nowhere to be found.
Feeling puzzled, Marjorie leaned against a balcony railing in the hallway, about to call him.
Just then, her peripheral vision caught a familiar figure in the hotel garden below.
She quickly gripped the railing, leaning over to get a better look, and confirmed it was Clark.
Standing across from him was a woman in a short skirt.
Marjorie's heart sank. She had a very bad feeling about this.
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