He sighed. ‘What exactly do you want, lady?’
‘You, Mr Escoerea.’ The woman smiled her beautiful smile. She nodded at the stumps. ‘By the way; the deal with the medals and the shoes; fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘Except you can keep the medals.’ She reached into the basket, took out the clippers and stuck them into the earth under the plants, then put her hands, clasped, on the front of the seat. ‘Now, Mr Escoerea,’ Sma said, shivering. ‘How would you like a proper job?’
END