Page 24 of Billion Dollar Mistake

I hang up not knowing and hit the button to call my PA Kirstie.

“Mr. Lincoln?” she answers politely.

“Can you come here for a second?” I ask down the line.

“Of course.”

I hang up, and a second later, she knocks and enters. Her shoes are soft along the carpet. She wears her usual black suit and black hair pinned back. I gesture for her to take a seat in front of me as we discuss tomorrow’s full day.

“Hi. How can I help?” she says, her brown eyes meet mine as she takes a seat and pushes her glasses up her nose.

“We need to move the final meeting. I have a new one scheduled for Spencer Health.”

“Do you need me to get anything prepared?”

I know the papers she had organized for me already sit inside my briefcase, waiting for him to be ready.

“No. What you prepared last time will work. Just check if there’s a date on it and if there is, can you amend that and print it out?”

“Sure. I’ll get that one rescheduled. What time are you meeting Mr. Spencer, so I can add that to your calendar and let the driver know.”

“I’m meeting him at 5. And thanks, Kirstie, that will be great.”

“Do you want me to organize dinner?”

A small smile turns up at the corner of my lip. “I don’t intend to stay that long. And I’m sure my housekeeper will have a spare meal in my fridge at home.”

“Is there anything else?”

I shake my head and sit back in my chair, ready to get back to my emails. I shouldn’t have many as I keep updated on them all throughout the day.

“No. Thanks. That’s all.”

She dips her chin and stands. Silently, she leaves the room and shuts the door behind her. I check the time because I need to leave in time to visit Grams before she goes to bed. She saw the doctor today and I want to hear all about it.

I finish the last of my work before I switch off my computer and drive to the house.

Three hours later, I arrive at the three-story limestone house with a small porch. But it’s her back garden that’s spectacular. The flowers, grass, and trees are what I love most about her place.

I knock on the door, expecting it to be my mom opening the door, but I’m surprised to see it’s Grams.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask, my tone louder and clearly unhappy.

She widens her eyes and then rolls them before grabbing my arm and dragging me in.

“I’m not dying yet. Get in here and give me a kiss. Your mother went to the grocery store to grab me some things I need.”

I let out a deep exhale. Relieved she wasn’t here alone. What if she was by herself and something happened?

Heaviness sits in my gut.

Moving toward her, I lean in and kiss her check, noticing her skin is thin like tissue paper and paler than usual. I note how fragile she is.

She closes the door and links her arm through mine. We walk through the house, and I guide her to her armchair.

“It’s so cold in here. Did you want a blanket or the heater on?” I ask after she settles herself into the brown chair.

“No. Come sit down, Remy. Tell me about your day,” she says, patting the sofa beside her.

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