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should her identity become public.
    “You trust this woman?”
    “Completely.” George continued playing with the pen in his fingers. “She’s a hard nut.” His eyes slid away from hers. “She won’t pay Debra Laurie any more respect than anyone else she meets,” he warned. “But this hotel is her life. If she knew you were doing your utmost to keep the place running efficiently, keep it open...”
    A twinge of guilt trickled through Debra. Keeping the resort open wasn’t her plan at all. Turning out the lights and locking all the doors sounded much more attractive. Cut their losses before the white elephant dragged the whole company down.
    While she had just now insinuated the possible demise of the hotel, perhaps her actual plans had better stay cloistered for now.
    Debra got to her feet, her decision made. “Talk to this woman. Tell her as little as possible, but as much as you believe necessary.” She turned as she opened the door. “When will I expect to meet her?”
    “She’ll come and find you shortly.”
    “Thank you, George. I apologise for being so inept at my duties here.” Not waiting to hear any response, she quickly slipped through the door and marched toward the staff toilet, the only area she could guarantee herself a few moments of privacy.
    Seated on the commode lid Debra buried her face in her hands. Embarrassment surged through her again. Training! Someone was going to teach her to wait on tables. She swallowed the groan rising in her throat. Debra didn’t need George pointing out the uselessness of their masquerade if she was incapable of improvising as a waitress.
    But she didn’t appreciate being told what she could and couldn’t do. Nails dug into her palms as she glared at the back of the stall door, her breaths coming in short, angry pants.
    It had been a number of years since anyone had dared to suggest she had shortcomings. But George had done just that, albeit in a very cautionary way. He’d had to do something, she rationalised, after she’d bungled everything she’d been asked to do.
    She’d just bet Jason McEwan had something to do with George’s suggestion, too. The operations manager had made no secret of his distrust of her ability, probably haranguing George for employing her. After seeing her talking to her mother, he’d be watching her every move.
    Or maybe the scrutiny was because of this morning. After he’d got over the shock of her almost tripping him over, disapproval had featured strongly in his expression.
    Well she wasn’t here seeking anyone’s approval. She cared nothing for what Jase McEwan might think he knew about her. It was what she could find out about him that interested her.
    Her lips tightened and she straightened her slumped shoulders. No-one could say Debra Laurie did things by halves. Karin had talked her into this and she’d jolly well play her role to the best of her ability. While the skills the other waitresses effortlessly exhibited eluded her today, she could learn. They were physical skills she’d never dreamed of trying—until now.
    Unaware of the time slipping by, Debra was taken aback when a door banged open.
    “You in here, Debra?” grated a voice of indeterminable age.
    Caught at a disadvantage, Debra used the seconds it took to flush and unlock the stall door to impose some semblance of control into the situation.
    Faced with a waitress she had vaguely noticed at breakfast, she was subjected to a hard stare. The multiple age lines on the tiny woman’s face made it hard to distinguish what expression she wore.
    “I’m Meg.” She stuck out her hand, one which felt old and dry to Debra’s touch but gripped like the jaws of an alligator. “It’s good to know George hasn’t lost his mind.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Employing you.” Meg looked her up and down. “We guessed it wasn’t your looks, cos we knew he’d never seen you before.” A witch-like cackle escaped. “But everyone’s been wondering how you managed to