It didn't bother Linda that her employer worked odd hours. Gary Preston was a Private Detective; that sort didn't follow a regular schedule. Nor did she mind the danger or strange characters that dogged him.
She just couldn't stand his habitual lies. Not about big things: he was a gentleman of integrity. But claiming he'd singed his handkerchief in a candle made no sense.
It wasn't just dishonest, it was insulting. Each time she thought about confronting him. Each time she simply smiled and ignored the fib.
Maybe one day he'd trust her like she trusted him.