She smiled and it changed her face. Made her softer and entirely too vulnerable.
I wondered if she knew that. She wouldn’t like it. She wouldn’t want anyone to see any chinks in her armor.
How was that something I already knew about her?
“Now I get it,” she mused. “That’s why your phone is ringing off the hook with people whoonly want five minutes.”
“Which you will never give them.”
She laughed. A slightly menacing sound. “And that’s why all those fancy people in the business suits and the leather billfolds were lined up in the lobby a few weeks ago to apply for this job. They thought they were going to learn all your money ninja tricks.”
“They did.”
“But you got me instead. Just a normal, boring, old assistant. I don’t even have a business idea.”
“I’m aware. It’s been helpful.”
“Be careful. That almost sounded like a compliment. Don’t want to mess with your growly-boss image. You need me for anything else tonight?”
“No.”
“Night, then, E.G.”
She turned and left the office without any more fanfare.
I thought about how she referred to me.
E. G.
It had been a conversation on her first day.
What do I call you?
Mr. Allen was my father. No one called me Evan. But Grant, which my closest friends and family called me, felt too personal.
I didn’t want personal, I wanted professional.
She actually came up with E.G., and it worked.
E.G. was fine.
THREE
GRANT
She would always refer to it as the bagel incident.
Three Weeks Later
“Coffee, WAPO and NYT,”Anna said, setting out my morning ritual on the credenza behind my desk.
First, my cold brew close at hand. Then, physical copies of the major news periodicals I subscribed to laid out in the particular order I liked to read them.
“Also, a friendly reminder, all of these can be read online.”
I didn’t look at her, just watched the figures on my screens reflect the current NASDAQ activity. There was something in renewable energy that I was seeing. Different types of technology, I made a mental note to do more research about.
“Online news is for pussies,” I muttered.
