Chapter 41
Kate
Kate left Grant in the city with his father for an early dinner while she headed back to her grandmother’s house. Margaret was sitting out on the terrace.
“There you are!” she exclaimed when Kate came out to join her. “I had Maria wait on dinner until you came home. We’re eating something light with the weather—roast beef and horseradish spread on rolls along with potato, cheddar, and bacon soup.”
“Delicious!” Kate said, sitting down at the table. “I’m starving.”
“I heard Grant did very well at his interview. He’s going to be offered the job, apparently.”
“You do know everything,” Kate said, flabbergasted. “I didn’t even know they were definitely making him an offer tonight.”
“So,” her grandmother said while Kate was placing a big spoonful of soup in her mouth. “When’s the wedding?”
Kate choked on her soup.
Coughing, she said, “What?”
“I know you and Grant have been sneaking around.”
“No, we aren’t!” Kate said, horrified.
Her grandmother looked at her smugly. “I saw him sneak into your window a couple weeks ago.”
“How? You were so drunk I thought you were sound asleep.”
“I have a sixth sense about these things. And I know you’ve been riding off on your bike in the middle of the night.”
“Oh my goodness. Nothing is happening. Or at least it was but no more.”
“He’s a good man. And landing the only Holbrook heir would really set you for life.”
“I can’t. He’s my boss’s son.”
“Pishposh. How do you think a woman got a man back in my day? It was always secretaries and assistants marrying their bosses! How else are those men going to find a woman, considering how busy they are?”
“I am not going to be that type of girl.”Not after what happened,she thought.
Her grandmother looked at her sympathetically. “Why don’t we start planning that garden party?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I already told everyone I was cohosting. If my name’s on it, it has to be good.”
Kate resisted the urge to bang her head on the table as her grandmother started rattling through her plans for the garden party in Grant’s honor.
“Now, Denise had shrimp cocktails at her garden party last August. I want to do something else. I was thinking crab salad cups. No one wants to eat shrimp. It’s so messy, and it’s going to be warm.”
“That’s the point. It’s cold fish,” Kate countered.
“It’s off the list. I’ve found some lights that we need to string up on the internet. They are in fun shapes.”
“There’s a budget.”
“Nonsense,” her grandmother said. “Walter can spare a little for his only son’s party.”
“It’s a small casual get-together.”
