Page 165 of Cherish

“I can’t. I have to keep—”

Hudson walks over and eases the book from her hand. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go take a break for a few minutes?”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he answers firmly, prying the pen from her grasp. “Eden, take her outside for some fresh air.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Hudson bends down so that he’s looking her straight in the eye. “We’ve got this, Heather.”

I have to go back to recording—there’s some kind of late-night scandal about the Parliament of Australia that I’ve got to figure out—so I miss whatever else Hudson tells her. But whatever it is, it must work, because a couple of minutes later, Eden escorts a subdued Heather out of the room.

“So,” Jaxon says after the door closes behind them, “what can we do to help?”

“Grab a bloody notebook,” Hudson growls from where he’s recording something from the wall of TVs directly in front of him. “And figure out what the fook is going on in Asia. Japan is blowing up right now, and I don’t have time to look.”

“The notebooks are in the room over there.” I nod toward the closed door. “Once you get them, pick a wall and get busy, because I’m drowning here.”

Jaxon and Flint do as I ask, each settling down in front of a wall different than the ones Hudson and I are watching so carefully. Eden, in the meantime, comes back and switches spots with Flint, who goes on to act like a pinch hitter, running back and forth between the different walls, calling out anything he thinks we might be missing.

Which works really well—right up until it doesn’t.

One minute I’m recording the key points in a tense UN debate, and the next Flint is screaming, “Turkey farm!” from my right.

I’m so focused on the German chancellor’s points regarding climate change that I jump about ten feet in the air. “What the fuck, Flint?” I give him a baffled—and aggrieved—look, which only makes him squawk louder.

He points at a monitor on the bottom row. “Turkey farm, Grace! Turkey farm!”

“Okay, sure.” I nod to shut him up, then go back to the climate change resolution that’s about to be voted on. The French prime minister has just taken the German chancellor’s point up when Flint puts his face between me and my journal book and yells, “Turkey farm!” loud enough to shake the rafters.

“What about a fucking turkey farm?” I end up roaring right back at him, loud enough to have everyone turning around to stare at me like I’ve become an actual turkey.

He rears back from me then, looking completely hurt. “What the hell, Grace? I was just trying to help.”

“I know you were.” I take a deep breath, blow it out slowly. And can I just ask, how the hell has this become my fault when he’s the onescreaming about turkeys at the top of his lungs?

But assigning blame isn’t going to solve the problem, so I take another deep breath and ask in the sweetest voice I can muster, “What do I need to know about the turkey farm, Flint?”

“It’s on fire. And it’sNovember.”

At first, I have no idea why the month should matter—but then it hits me. I still don’t think it’s worth all this fuss when the UN is literally in the middle of trying to pass its most aggressive climate change resolution in history, but at this point I’m not about to argue.

Instead, I pick up my pen again and write, “Turkey farm on fire in—” I look up to ask him, but he’s been reading over my shoulder.

“Minnesota,” he supplies helpfully.

“Thank you,” I answer as I write the state name. “Anything else I need to know?”

“No, that’s it.” He beams at me. “Looks like you’ve got this, Grace, so I’m going to go check on Asia now.”

“Fantastic!” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Fantastic,” Hudson mutters under his breath.

Seconds later, Flint is freaking out again, this time about a major chain of sushi restaurants closing in Japan.

“But they’re my favorite,” he moans, poking a finger at the screen that shows one of the locations being boarded up. “You’re getting this, right, Hudson?”

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