“But don’t worry. My food doesn’t make you big. Jabchae don’t do that. Look at all the vegetable! You don’t get fat from eating spinach, onion, mushrooms and carrots.”
“Probably not,” I say, noting that she conveniently didn’t mention the noodles. She’s convinced everything she makes is calorie-free, and I nod because it makes her happy.
“You take this. I think you like it before.”
“I did. Thank you!”
She pats my arm gently. “You’re such a good girl, Aspen. Always taking care of your grandpa. It isn’t easy.” She sighs a sad sigh. “You’re so young to be working your life away. Enjoy yourself, too, okay?” Her tone says she knows that won’t be happening anytime soon.
“I will.” I smile and take the food. “Thanks again.”
I make a mental note to buy her some flowers next time. I’m not the best cook, especially compared to her. She doesn’t seem to drink—the wine I got her last Christmas is still sitting on a shelf—but she flushes like a young girl when I bring her roses.
Every woman needs a reason to be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grant
At last. I roll my shoulders as I walk out of LAX, the mind-numbing business meeting finally done and dusted. It was made worse by the fact that I had to travel out of town. Hotels aren’t awful—not when you’re willing to pay a premium. But I prefer my own bed if I’m going to be suffering during waking hours.
The worst thing wasn’t even the idiotic waste of time with the new management, who supposedly got their education from Ivy League schools but don’t understand anything. It was that my ever-efficient assistant Renée had to quit suddenly three weeks ago.Why did the military have to send her husband overseas?
She was the best assistant I ever had. Emmett offered to share his assistant with me until we find a replacement, but that’s sort of like someone offering to stab you in the eye so that you’ll forget about the pain in your foot. Dealing with Marjorie is like having a hot poker up your butt.
I knew Marjorie was slow-moving and not particularly bright. I just didn’t knowhowdim she was until I started giving her assignments.
My phone rings as I’m walking out to my car.Emmett.Oh, good.Now I can vent my spleen a little.
“Your assistant booked a fucking non-direct flight when I told her three times to make sure it was direct! It added three hours to the trip!”
“Which you spent working at the airport,” he says soothingly.
“I just want bare minimum competence from Marjorie,” I say. “Bare minimum.”
“No. You want a Spectre,” he says, referring to the Rolls-Royce coupe I ordered.
“I want the best car. With Marjorie, it’s clear that ‘the best’ isn’t an available option.”
“Well, yeah, okay. True enough.” Emmett sounds slightly dolorous.
“So I’ll take minimum—”
“But that’s why I hired you a new assistant!” he says, perking up again.
“You did?” There was no time to interview candidates while I was out of town, so I let Emmett handle it. “I thought you said the candidate sucked.”
“No, that was the one on Tuesday. And yeah, she did. But this one’s good. Calm. Levelheaded. Proactive. Doesn’t wait for people to tell her what to do.”
“That’s good, as long as she’s smarter than Marjorie.”
“She can do math faster than Don, all in her head.”
“Seriously?” Don is one of the quicker associates, excellent with numbers.
“Yup. Dropped out of college, but who cares? Her memos are good, too.”
“Marjorie-good or Amy-good?”
