“And if they’re big jerks?”
“Give it to charity,” Babushka said offhandedly.
“Which charity?” Sadie asked.
“Vhichever.”
“Don’t draw up those papers,” he said to Sadie. “Babushka, you’re taking things a little far. Dial it back.”
“Papers are important,” Babushka replied.
“Rome, it’s her money,” Sadie said softly. “Just tell your family not to be—”
“Big jerks,” Babushka finished for her.
“Your family adores you, even when you think we’re being jerks.” Which he was sorry to say could be often, given that they were Dvornakovs.
“Roman.” Babushka laid her hand on his. “This is between attorney and me.”
Also him, since he was sitting right there, and no one had shushed him for a solid thirty seconds.
“Roman, she’s right. This is between my client and me.” Sadie was all attorney now. There was none of the sweet auntie he’d enjoyed babysitting and spending time with at Eli’s place.
“You are not dying.” All her doctors said the same thing. His grandmother was the picture of health. No, she couldn’t see for shit. No, she couldn’t hear too well. Yes, she had the occasional heart blip that required an emergency room trip. But all in all, she was totally fine.
“We’re all dying, Roman,” Sadie said seriously, totally taking his grandmother’s side. “It’s a fact.”
Wasn’t that a depressing thought?
“Can we debate that later? After we loop in the family on charity selection?” Right, so his blood pressure was, in fact, rising. He did his best to keep it at reasonable levels. They trained him for this kind of shit in the military. The whole things-aren’t-going-well, just keep-your-blood-pressure-normal thing? Yeah, that thing.
“Roman,” Sadie said in that way of hers that he suspected meant she was gearing up for a fight.
“No.” He stood, turning to his grandmother. He made his eyes as big as he could, hoping to transmit that things were good. She’d invited Sadie to dinner and sufficiently scared the snot out of her. She’d done her busybody work for the day.
“Roman,” Sadie said again. “I have this.” Her words were lawyer firm with a dash of annoyed. “I think you need to go now.”
All right, if he was excused, he’d just be excused then.
Pointedly, he stood. Turned. And marched out. Right past the empty reception desk. Down the hall. Straight to his studio where things made sense most of the time.
Chapter Thirteen
Sadie should have handled the whole situation with Roman better. In hindsight, she understood anyone with an ounce of pride wouldn’t appreciate being excused the way she’d done it.
She’d fix it. Talk to him.
As soon as she finished with Babushka, she’d go straight to him, apology in hand.
“I’ll look into some additional estate law.” Sadie led Babushka out of her office and back into the open area where she still had no receptionist. “Let me draw that up for you.”
“Vhatever you think is best.” Babushka shuffled along beside Sadie.
Then, inexplicably, Babushka stopped at the reception desk and stuck her purse in the drawer.
“What are you doing?” Sadie asked, opening the drawer to pull the bag back out.
“You need help,” Babushka replied, repeating the purse–drawer routine and settling on the chair. She used the levers under the seat to lower it like it was totally normal for her to be adjusting Sadie’s furniture.
