She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I let Ralph drive me. Though I still say that DMV person was wrong and I am not a hazard on the road.” She sniffed.
He’d never let her know that after she’d backed over her prized roses in the driveway, he’d pulled strings to make sure she had an eye exam and didn’t get her license renewed. He wanted her to live as long as possible. “Well, I’m glad you were prudent, anyway,” he said, knowing she still snuck a drive or two when she could get away with it.
“Like I had a choice. Your father would call the cops on me. His own mother. Imagine that.”
“Imagine.” He grinned. “I have to call Cat first and then we can talk.”
She glanced warily at his cell. “Talk to me first. Call later,” she said, sounding panicked. “I haven’t eaten. Let’s go to that fancy place downstairs.”
“That fancy place is a bar.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.” She yanked his arm. For a frail-looking woman, she had almost superhuman strength. Although he could argue with her, he had no desire to make his first call to Catherine with an audience present and he knew damn well he’d never get Emma to wait outside. Better to feed her and send her on her way. Then he’d call Catherine and leave a message if he had to.
He managed to grab his folders and stuff them into his briefcase before Emma herded him out the door. Five minutes later, he and his grandmother were seated in a sports bar in the same building as his office.
“Want to see a menu?” he asked her, calling the server over at the same time.
She shook her head. Not a strand of white hair fell from her perfect bun. She hadn’t changed since he was a kid. And he loved her for it, even if there were times—like now—when she confounded him.
“Whatever you’re having is fine with me,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “Beer, and I thought you hadn’t eaten.”
She fidgeted in her seat. “I lost my appetite.”
“Two beers,” he said to the server.
“Be right back.”
Logan leaned back in his seat and glanced around the crowded bar. “Okay, you’ve got me in a public place where I can’t make a scene. What’s going on?”
“You are good.”
The server returned and placed two bottles and their glasses down onto the table.
“I’ll take mine straight up,” Emma said.
He swallowed a laugh.
“You might want to do the same,” she said without cracking a smile.
His urge to laugh ceased as he digested her warning. He handed her one bottle, grabbed the other for himself, and took a large gulp, refusing to comment when she did the same. The sight was absurd but no doubt that was her intention. Get him in a public place, keep him off guard, and drop her bomb, whatever it was.
The cold, wet brew didn’t ease the dryness in his mouth. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
“What? I can’t stop by to visit my favorite grandson?”
“I’m your only grandson. Now talk.”
She sighed. “You’re working hard?” she asked.
“It’s been a hectic week.”
“And it’s barely begun. No time for play?” she asked.
“You keeping tabs on me, Gran?”
“I have to hunt you down at your office at ten o’clock… it speaks for itself.” She tilted her head to the side. “The women in your life can’t be too understanding if you’re so out of touch.”