Bossy Grump

This is a woman who bleeds for her art.

“How are you this lovely morning?” she asks.

“Not as chipper as you.”

She laughs. “Oh, Ward, must you be a cactus every weekend? Wrong side of the bed again?”

“Headache,” I grumble.

“Do you need something?”

I shake my head. “Already popped a few pain pills. They just haven’t kicked in yet.”

She nods. “Well, when you get settled, come straight to my office.”

Huh? That weird look on her face says she’s holding something back.

I’m a senior partner in the company and blood, so I won’t be fired. And I’m far too old to be grounded, so...why do I get the feeling I’m in trouble?

Shit, I’m not dealing with this without more caffeine.

While my computer wakes up, I plod downstairs and fetch a double espresso, then head straight to Grandma’s office to get this over with.

I tap on her door.

She peers through the long window beside it and waves me in.

She’s perched at her desk like an empress waiting for her court. The soaring glass windows and lively vines behind her cast a backdrop that steals my breath even after years of working in this building and being inside her corporate throne room a thousand times.

The Chicago skyline peeks in with a hint of orange early summer sun that makes Grandma glow like a creature that isn’t fully mortal.

Sometimes, I wonder.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I take the leather chair across from her desk.

“Yes.” She smiles and nods. “I got your email.”

“Oh, good. I didn’t get a response so I was afraid you hadn’t seen it yet,” I say with a nod. “Do you want me to send the note to HR? We can easily kill this before she ever gets started here. It’s only Saturday. We can probably still find someone to start training on Monday. I know the search wasn’t easy, but what about the temp agency? There might be someone in their pool who’d make a decent permanent hire if we just...”

I trail off as her eyes narrow into bullets.

That deep wrinkle in her forehead creases, and she tilts her head back and forth for a second. “Absolutely not. That’s hardly warranted.”

Come again? The coffee cup dents in my hands.

I don’t understand.

“Grandma, she was at the museum—on the architecture floor, no less—drunk as hell, roaring loud, and had some guy hanging all over her,” I venture. “If I hadn’t been there to help, there’s no telling what trouble she would’ve found herself in.”

She leans away from her computer, folds her hands together, and rests her chin on her fingers, looking at me like I’m this lost puppy.

“She caught your attention, I see. I understand why. Miss Holly is smart, youthful, and vibrant. And from what you’ve said, she sounds infinitely more fun than that Maria ever did.”

I wince at that name, stifling my gag reflex.

“She had everyone’s attention, Grandma. I wasn’t the only one concerned. People were staring, especially at the hell-date blundering around with her.”

“Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating?” she asks with a yawn.

I glare. “Your other grandson asked me the same thing.”

“Well, you have been known to exaggerate. It’s in your nature, dearie.”

“Not this time,” I grind out, anger-sipping the coffee. “When did this 'Ward exaggerates' crap happen?”

She looks at me blankly. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes say there’s some inside joke I just missed.

Look, I’m used to people talking behind my back—it’s only natural when there are times I’ll work them half to death—but damn if this is a running joke. Hard truths need no exaggeration.

“The whole room was staring,” I try again.

“When someone’s making a scene, that tends to happen. And with this dreadful man after her, she had good reason to lash out, didn’t she?”

I bite my tongue, giving a curt nod.

There’s no fucking argument there.

“But how did you find out she works here?” Grandma asks.

“She told me.” I roll my eyes and look over her shoulder, trying to plead my case. “I never got her name, but there’s only one EA we hired. She said she was out celebrating her start here next week. Told the whole room, too, with how loud she was being. I was relieved to be the one who rescued her from the asshat—” I realize I’m talking to my grandmother. “Jerk, sorry.”

Grandma nods.

“I’m glad I saved her from the weirdo she was with before he could do any damage,” I continue. “And I don’t regret bringing her home before half of Chicago found out she works for us, no thanks to her mouth.”

“Well.” A slow smile crawls over Grandma’s face. “You two certainly talked long enough for you to find out plenty about her.”

“She mentioned loving your Arboretum Office, too.”

Grandma grins, drops her hands to the desk, and sits up straighter.

“Ah, I knew she had good taste when I hired her. Now, Ward, what she does on her own time is none of my concern as long as she’s good here. It’s none of yours either,” she says in a motherly tone that’s like arguing against a wall.