Malcolm smiled. “Sven, haven’t you learned yet not to shoot against her?”
Sven Bailey regarded his fingernails studiously. “Yep.” Then he glance up with a sardonic twist of the lips. “Trouble is, the students keep trying to lose their money. What’s a guy to do?”
Malcolm grinned. “The way I hear it, you two split the take.”
Sven only looked hurt. Ann laughed aloud. “What a horrid rumor.” She winked. “Care to join us? We’re heading over to the Down Time to cool out and grab a bite to eat.”
Malcolm was well beyond the stage of flushing with embarrassment every time he had to turn down an invitation from lack of funds. “Thanks, but no. I think I’ll see the departure through, then head up toward Primary and try to line up some prospects from the new arrivals. And I’ve got to fix this blasted sandal again. It keeps coming loose at the sole.”
Sven nodded, accepting his face-saving excuses without comment. Ann started to protest, then glanced at Sven. She sighed. “If you change your mind, I’ll spot you for a drink. Or better yet Sven can pick up the tab from my winnings.” She winked at Malcolm. Sven just crossed his arms and snorted, reminding Malcolm of a burly bulldog humoring an upstart chickadee. “By the way,” she smiled, “Kevin and I were thinking about inviting some people over for dinner tomorrow night. If you’re free at, oh, say about sixish, stop by. The kids love it when you visit.”
”Sure,” he said, without really meaning it. “Thanks.”
Fortunately, they moved off before noticing the dull flush that crept up Malcolm’s neck into his cheeks. If Ann Vinh Mulhaney had pre-planned a dinner party for tomorrow night, he’d eat his sandal, broken strap and all. Her gesture warmed him, though, even as he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “I’ve got to get a fulltime job with someone.” But not with Time Tours.