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* * *
Well, she’s certainly a chatty thing, isn’t she?
I use voice to text to send her my reply as I take the stairs to my third-floor office.
Anything is fine.
Except pizza or Asian-Mexican fusion.
* * *
She must’ve been waiting for my response because she answers right away.
I don’t think Asian-Mexican fusion is a thing. But I will still try to avoid it. Any dietary issues I should know about? Anything you have trouble digesting?
No.
Can I assume you prefer organic options when available?
That’s fine.
What about meal times?
Noon and seven.
* * *
Since she seems inclined to repeat every question she’s already asked, I get ahead of the next one.
And I won’t be having any guests for meals.
What about caretakers? Do any of them need to eat?
Caretakers? From the landscape service?
Lol. No, silly. Your caretakers. Do you have staff that handles things for you?
No.
That’s awesome. Good for you.
* * *
What the fuck? Why would I need people to take care of me?
And why is she so damn chatty?
I’ve talked more to her today than I have to my assistant.
Of course, I haven’t logged into my work computer yet, so there is that. Still, I don’t want this woman thinking I have nothing to do all day but chat with her. So I send her one last text before putting my phone in focus mode.
I’ll be down for lunch at 12:15. Make sure food is ready and you’re gone by then.
Noted. Have a good day.
Thirty minutes later, it occurs to me she’s buying groceries for me.
I open our previous conversation and ask,
