Chapter 48 Worrying About Grandma
Making my way back to the department, their conversation runs on repeat through my mind.
"I just don't understand why there wasn't the funding to replace the products," one of them had said, only moments before I had walked away.
"It's just James Artie being a jerk," the other had replied.
They had seemed genuinely concerned that our company might be suffering some sort of financial difficulty. Grandma would tell me if that was the case, wouldn't she? It's hard to believe that she wouldn't. She normally can't get enough of talking to me about the company. And in recent weeks, since I started working here, she's become more talkative, not less.
I can't help but wonder why Noah didn't tell us that Mrs Clancy had chosen to bankroll the replacements herself.
I'm distracted for the rest of the day and everyone notices it, none less so than Noah. He seems a mixture of irritated and concerned as he struggles to get my attention repeatedly before deciding to give up.
"Eden, I think you should go home," he says surprisingly softly.
"Why?" I ask, blinking up at me.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"No."
"You're not yourself," he says, coming closer. "I think you should go home, get some rest and come back tomorrow."
"I..." I glance down at my work. I've achieved next to nothing since hearing that conversation but I can't explain that to Noah. He wouldn't understand why it's so important to me. Without knowing that Mrs Clancy is my grandma, he'd probably just think I'm overthinking things, worrying about someone I barely know.
"Please Eden," he says. "I'd rather have you rest today and come back tomorrow full of energy."
"I'm okay. I can work."
"But you're not," he says, pointedly looking at my computer screen. It's black. Empty. I've done nothing in the last few hours and there's not really any explanation for it. "Did you get bad news? If you don't feel sick..."
"No."
"Alright," he says, moving behind me to grab my coat and bag. "Time to go home."
He helps me to my feet, holding my coat open for me like a gentleman. Sometimes, Noah Grisham surprises me. He really can be ever so thoughtful.
"Okay," I give in. I don't have much choice. He's not going to let me off the hook and I'm not much help here anyway. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Call me if you need anything," he says gently, guiding me out of the department.
"I shouldn't need anything. I'm perfectly fine," I try to refuse.
"I'm serious, Eden. If you need anything, call me."
I try not to react to his words but my insides squirm of their own will and I lick my lips. He really shouldn't be this thoughtful. I need him to go back to being my jerk of a boss so I won't get confused. A girl could easily misunderstand him when he's this good to his team. I tell myself that he'd probably do the same for any of the other people in our department but there's a small voice at the back of my head telling me that maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, I'm special.
Even though I know she won't be home yet, I head to my grandma's house. We have dinner plans anyway and I don't really fancy getting the tube again later. I could take a taxi but having limited funds I actually have to consider whether or not that's necessary now. It's strange but I don't really miss the extra money.
Unlocking the door, I let myself in. Although, I've visited her a couple of times since moving out, it still feels strange being back here. I make my way into the kitchen, deciding to cook dinner for my grandma since I'm back before her. Opening the fridge, I pull out some vegetables, preparing to make her a lasagna. Grandma always tells me she loves my lasagna so it's a clear win.
I'm just putting the lasagna into the oven some time later when grandma arrives home.
"Eden?" she calls out, when she doesn't hear her alarm buzz.
"In here," I call back, standing up straight and going to the sink to wash my hands.
"You're here early."
She doesn't sound disappointed but perhaps mildly concerned.
"I wasn't feeling overly well," I say even though it's not strictly true. "Noah sent me home early."
"Oh dear," she replies, automatically reaching up to check my temperature, brushing her hand over my temple.
"I'm okay though," I tell her. "I made lasagna."
"Oh goodie! My favourite."
Removing the apron I've wrapped around myself, I follow her out of the room.
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