***
“This risotto is superb,” I say as I take another spoonful of the creamy mixture of rice, seafood, and spices. “The best I’ve tried so far.”
“Same here.” Grant digs into his own beef and mushroom dish. “I’ve been to Italy but nothing beats this restaurant’s risotto.”
“And the side dishes aren’t bad, either.” I take a bite out of the fried eggplant. “Mmm.”
He takes a sip of wine. “Glad you like them.”
“You know what?” I set down my fork and dab the corner of my mouth with the napkin. “We should just get the chef here to work for you.”
Grant’s eyes widen slightly. “I didn’t know you were a headhunter, too.”
“Well, I did help Mr. Landers find his new VP before I left.”
“What did he tell you exactly?” He sets down his glass. “I mean about your new job.”
“He said you needed a capable personal assistant more than he does.” I pick up my spoon. “He said he owed you a favor.”
“Which one?” He continues eating.
I chuckle. “That many favors, huh?”
“So, you left just because he told you to?”
I shrug as I eat another spoonful. “I guess I owe him a favor, too. Besides, he wouldn’t ask me to do anything that he knew wasn’t good for me. He never gets me into any trouble he can’t get me out of.”
Grant grabs his glass again. “You and Nathan sure seem close.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say…” I stop as I notice the change in his expression, his forehead creased and his gaze distant as he drinks the wine.
Why does he suddenly look annoyed? I thought he liked this restaurant. Is it someone who just walked in? I subtly look around as I get my own glass. It doesn’t seem as if anyone just arrived; everyone is busy eating or chattering at their tables. I don’t recognize anyone, either.
Is it something I said?
Something I said.
Wait. Don’t tell me Grant is… jealous of Mr. Landers? But he has no reason to be. Mr. Landers was never interested in me – on a sexual level – and Grant can’t be.
Is he?
Impossible. I’ve already established that fact. Maybe it’s just something he remembered.
“On second thought, I don’t think we should hire the chef here.” I take a sip of the wine. “I mean, just think of all the people who would miss out on life not being able to taste the perfect risotto.”
“You’re right.” Grant puts his glass down. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be able to hire someone good.”
I set my own glass down and wipe my lips. “Actually, the agency already sent me the CVs of their recommended candidates and there’s one I’m considering.”
I take my tablet out of my purse and show Grant the candidate’s CV.
“Her name is Marjorie. She doesn’t have any formal culinary education but she has done well at the restaurants and homes she’s worked in. I called some of them and they describe her as a hard worker and a quick learner. They also said she likes to keep to herself but that’s fine since she’ll just be staying in the kitchen.”
“Likes to keep to herself, huh?” Grant hands me back the tablet. “Sounds like you’ve found yourself a kindred soul.”
I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, so I say nothing as I put the tablet back in my purse.
Grant sits back. “She’s single, too.”
I blink, surprised that he noticed. Wait. He isn’t interested in her, is he?
“But she has a kid,” I inform him.
“Not a problem.”
He doesn’t mind if a woman has a kid?
“As long as having a kid doesn’t interfere with her job.”
Oh. Of course, that’s what he means. I suddenly feel like slapping my forehead in dismay. What was I thinking?
“I don’t think it will,” I tell him as I continue eating. “She doesn’t bring her son with her to work.”
Grant continues eating as well. “So, who’s watching him? How old is he?”
“His name is Jim and he’s seven. If I remember correctly, he’s with an aunt and an uncle. I can ask for more details tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. I was just curious.”
I can tell it’s not curiosity, though. Concern? I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that his mother was also a single mom. I wonder what his childhood was like.
“Your grandparents helped raise you, didn’t they?”
He nods. “What about you? Your mother was a single mom, too, right?”
“My relatives in the Philippines helped,” I tell him. “They didn’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts, though.”
Grant gives me a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“If they did, they wouldn’t have badgered my mother to send them money once she was already here in the US. She did at first but then she stopped, and they started fighting over the phone. Then the phone calls stopped altogether. When my mother…” I swallow. “…died, none of them came to her funeral.”
Grant frowns.
Oh, shit. Did I just tell Grant all that? I never meant to give him a sob story, especially not one that I haven’t told a lot of people, including Mr. Landers. Is there something in this risotto or is it the wine? Or maybe it’s still the Broadway effect?
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I guess now, you think my life is good enough to be a show on Broadway.”
Grant still says nothing.
Okay.
“Anyway, I think Marjorie will make a great personal chef,” I say, steering the conversation back to its original course. “Though, of course, you have the final say. You’re the boss, after all.”
“If you think she’ll be great, then I trust your judgment,” Grant finally says.
“All right.”