“So, what exactly was it that I walked in on last night?”
I choke on my water, wishing it were vodka. “Nothing!”
“You think I don’t know fooling around when I see it? You’re lucky I didn’t walk straight into the living room when I entered the apartment. Who knows what my poor eyes would have witnessed.”
“Nothing!” I repeat, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nothing,” I say for the third time, now in a lower tone.
“I like your style, Nan. Way to go for the jugular.”
“That poor cat—what has it seen?” she goes on. “Perhaps I should get little Desdemona a mask so you don’t blind the creature.”
“I thought you liked Desi.” After all, it was Nan’s idea to get a cat in the first place. “Just one cat, dear,” she instructed. “We don’t want you turning into a cat lady. And some men don’t like cats. You don’t want to acquire a passel of them and turn anyone off once you start dating.” As if dating to find a man was my single objective in life.
She is so old-school, straight out of the 1950s. Even though she met Grandpa at work, Nan became a healthy mix of housewife and business professional I don’t think I could master if I tried.
It will be one or the other with me; I cannot multitask…
“I do like Desi,” Nan is saying, sipping along the rim of her martini glass. “That’s why I want to get the scamp a mask.” She raises her professionally shaped brows. “Maybe some ear plugs?”
My cheeks flush.
Brooks shifts uncomfortably, fiddling with the links on his cuffs. I inspect them and discover the crest of our alma mater, hewn in shiny silver.
Pleased, my secret smile is hidden when I take a drink of my own beverage, an unsweet tea Nan had brought around—no alcohol for me when I’ll be returning to work after lunch. No one wants to see a tipsy Abbott, except perhaps Bambi Warner, and I sent her home for a damn spa day.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Abbott, sweetie, would you like a shot of tequila? You’re looking a little stiff.”
Good lord, Nan can be such a bad influence sometimes.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Brooks sits up straighter in his seat. “Maybe just what we need. I’m keyed up from a shitty—oops, excuse my language—from a meeting I left at the office.”
Same, same, same. “Right, but it’s still the middle of the work day.”
“Oh darling, don’t be such a pooh.” Nan lifts an elegant hand with its collection of thin gold and diamond bracelets, motioning for the server. “We’ll take two shots of tequila, please.”
“Two? Why only two? Aren’t you going to take a shot?” After all, it was her idea. But now that I think of it, I’ve never seen Nan drinking anything other than champagne or a cocktail from a martini glass.
She pulls a face and picks up a menu, pretending to study it. “Don’t be silly, darling—it’s Wednesday.”
Brooks and I exchange glances.
When the shots arrive at the table, we tip our heads back like champs, Nan looking on, a satisfied smile etched across her graceful face.
We order more food than I’ll ever be able to eat, mostly because I’m nervous and couldn’t stop myself. The bread basket was a given—I always order that—shrimp cocktail as an appetizer, lobster bisque as my soup, a wedge salad with blue cheese dressing, and for my entrée, a crab salad.
Evidently, for me, it’s all about seafood today.
I always hesitate to order seafood when I’m on a date (not that I go on many) because it’s so much more expensive than most other entrées on the menu, and typically I date men I know cannot afford to feed me lobster at every meal.
However, since I’m with Nan and Brooks and neither of them are going to judge me, I splurge. Plus, since it’s so much food, I look forward to boxing up the leftovers for takeaway and eating them for dinner.
“How is everyone at the office, dear?” Nan asks to catch up. She stopped coming in when Grandpa decided to semi-retire, she herself having quit years before that to meddle in the lives of her grandchildren.
Her interference has become a full-time job for her, and I’ve come to consider the ceaseless prying a comfort, oddly enough. There will come a day Nan when won’t be poking her nose into everyone’s business, and we will surely miss it. The thought doesn’t escape me, and I refuse to take her for granted.
Even if she does drive us bonkers.
“Everything is…” I hesitate, not wanting to lie. “It’s alright. I was scheduled to have a meeting before our lunch, but the girl was having a meltdown at her desk, so that was shot.” I swirl the ice around my water glass. “This woman has been a thorn in my side for months.”
“Oh, tell me more,” Nan enthuses, as if I’m about to dish on celebrity gossip and not the dysfunctional inner-workings of her husband’s company.
“Her boyfriend broke up with her and she can’t stop crying. I swear, she’s the type who would set fire to the building if he didn’t text her back.”
Brooks shakes his head. “Why should he text her back if they broke up?”
“It would make my life easier, that’s why.” I laugh. “She was impossible to communicate with before, and now I’m afraid all she’s going to do is cry every day. I can’t afford to send her for spa treatments whenever she decides she’s in a funk. It’s not productive.”
Brooks nods. “Two things that should be outlawed in the corporate marketplace: cigarette breaks and breakups. Bad for productivity.”
“I remember when I used to smoke, I’d take my break out on the rooftop for an entire hour when we were only allowed fifteen minutes.” Nan looks at me and fluffs her hair. “Grandpa was none the wiser.”
“Nan, you probably reeked like an ashtray—I’m sure he knew what you were up to.”
“Those days were different, darling. I smoked these long, sleek menthols, and Grandpa smoked a mahogany pipe—so debonair. We played bridge and went dancing, he would cop a feel, and that’s how things were back in the day.”
“Cop a feel?”
“That was your grandfather’s way of flirting—he was so terrible at it. Barely cracked a smile, so serious all the time when the company was in its infancy.”
“By infancy, do you mean a high-rise with fewer floors? Because as long as I can remember, it’s always been nutty.”
From what I can recall, once Grandpa started the company, it expanded within months, his office going from the living room of his one-bedroom apartment to a rented office space on the outskirts of town. To an office in an actual office building. To an entire floor. To the entire building.
All you need is an idea, a dream, and a little drive, he always says.
“Well yes, fewer floors.” She sips her cosmo, hot pink lipstick staining the rim of the glass. “You know what I mean.”
I shoot a glance at Brooks, who seems amused. I give him a wan smile of apology that my grandmother is so naively high maintenance, bless her heart.
“What about the two of you?” Nan’s blue gaze is directed at Brooks, pointed and unyielding.