"I wasn't snooping," she blurted. "It was addressed to Emma, but she's fifteen, and I opened it without thinking, and then I saw the..." She stopped. "Nadia, this is a lot of money."
"It's fine. I'm handling it."
"You shouldn't have to handle it. We didn't even know she was in pain, I didn't know, and then you quietly took her and paid for everything and didn't say a word?—"
Her voice broke on the last word, and she pulled it back together, years of not making a fuss coming to the fore. "I wanted to say thank you. And I'm sorry."
"Mom. Don't apologize."
"I'm her grandmother. I should have noticed."
"Mom, she's fifteen, trying to handle things like an adult." I kept my voice gentle and even, the same voice I used when briefing my team on something I didn't want them to panic about. "The surgery is scheduled. The infection is under control. She's going to be fine."
"We'll pay you back."
"You don't need to."
"Nadia—"
"You don't need to," I said again, more gently. "That's what I'm here for. I'll call you later, okay? I've got a luncheon to get through."
After I hung up, I sat still in my small office, digesting the news. The stainless-steel surfaces of my kitchen gleamed through the window. My team moved around out there with the comfort of people who knew their jobs, and the smell of the afternoon's prep work was already drifting through.
I'd paid for the dental visit. I'd cover the surgery. I'd handle the property taxes. I'd keep the lights on here, make payroll, smile at my clients, and give Elevate Events absolutely nothing to work with.
And I would not think about the spreadsheet. Not right now.
I was still staring at the screen when it rang again. Daemon.
"Hey," I said, and just hearing his voice eased some of the tension.
"How was the meeting?" he asked.
"Rough but good. And for what it's worth, the team's on board."
"You've got this," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "And you've got me. Still on for tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Good. Because I'm already planning what to cook, and I need to know if you're allergic to anything."
I laughed despite everything. "No allergies. Surprise me."
"Challenge accepted."
I set the phone down and got back to work. There was a luncheon to prep, a business to save, and a man who was ready to take my mind off all the awful things.
Terrifying. All of it.
But maybe that was okay.
The luncheon went as planned. Every dish was timed to the second, the presentation was flawless, and dietary restrictions were accommodated. The client, a law firm celebrating a major case win, raved about the food.
"This is incredible," said the senior partner, pulling me aside. "Where did you get that pasta sauce recipe? It's the best marinara I've ever had."
I thought about Sofia and her worn notebook of recipes, and about her letting me photograph the page for that marinara sauce.
"Family secret," I said, which wasn't quite a lie. "If you liked that, wait until you see what I have planned for next time."
