Drake didn''t hear any noise downstairs.


    "Haven''t Debra and Marione in?"


    "They should have."


    "Then why hasn''t anyonee to report me?"


    "Boss, you said you weren''t going to wee them."


    Lately, Kale found it hard to figure out what Drake was thinking. One moment he was against something, and the next he was going along with it.


    The wedding was an example. At first, he said he wasn''t going, butter, he did. Then it was this recent event. He didn''t mean to hurt Marion, but he imed that it was intentional.


    Now, he was doing it again, inviting them over but refusing to wee them.


    "Yeah. I don''t care if they stay or leave," Drake said, standing up. "I''m hungry. Tell someone to make dinner."


    He came downstairs, but Debra was nowhere to be seen.


    He nced at Lara, who was still cleaning. "Have they gone to their rooms?"


    "Yes," Lara faltered, "but they went to the same room."


    Drake frowned. "I told you to prepare two rooms. Why are they sharing?"


    "Mrs. Houston said it''s natural for a couple to share a room," Lara exined.


    "It''s fine," Drake said. "Tell them toe down for dinner."


    Lara hesitated. "Mrs. Houston said they''ve already eaten. Plus, Mr.


    Houston is injured, so he wont be


    "Great," Drake muttered, his appetite vanishing.


    Debra had it all figured out, meals included. She was treating his ce like a free recovery center.


    He stood up. "Bring the food to my room."


    Kale,ing from the kitchen with the meal, was puzzled. "Boss, you''re not eating here?"


    "I''ll eat upstairs."


    "Alright."


    A maid wheeled a cart of food into Marion and Debra''s room. Debra eyed the


    dishes plentiful but not as fancy as before.


    "Is Mr. Lowe running low on cash?" she asked.


    The maid was baffled, and Debra exined, "Hemember the abalone and sea cucumber used to be endless. Now, there''s no ginseng in the chicken soup, no abalone in the braised pork, and no sea cucumber in the congee."


    The maid stammered, "Well, Mr. Lowe said Mr. Houston shouldn''t have seafood because of his injury."


    "Is that so Debra frowned,


    scooping some congee and feeding it to Marion. "Honey, bear with it. Drake is stingy. Once we''re back in Seamar City, I''ll make sure you get proper nourishment."


    "Okay," Marion smiled indulgently.


    The maid felt like a third wheel, standing there awkwardly.