Elise Brown — She Knows Everett
It’s not even late, and I’m starving. Sandwich it is.
Ham and Swiss on whole wheat, brown mustard, lettuce, tomato. Nothing fancy, but perfect. I’m sliding the mustard back into the fridge when her voice—soft, but sharp as ever—makes me jump.
“Good evening, Grandson.”
I nearly knock the damn sandwich off the counter. “DAMMIT, Gran!”
She’s quiet as a mouse and about as tall. “How long have you been standing there? Are you trying to kill me?”
Her eyes twinkle. “Long enough to see you rummaging around in my kitchen, making a mess.” She waves me aside. “Scoot, so I can tidy up.”
“Tidy up?” I shake my head. “Gran, I’m not ten. I can clean up after myself. If Grandad heard you playing housemaid, he’d kill every deal I’ve got on his desk.”
She smiles, soft but knowing. “Oh, I doubt that.”
We both know that’s a lie. Edward Brown would happily blow up half my portfolio to prove a point.
I lean against the counter, watching her fill the dishwasher and wipe the counters. You’d never guess the Browns are the wealthiest family in this hemisphere, at least. Gran doesn’t put on airs—for anyone.
As I take a bite of the sandwich, she glances over her shoulder.
“Did you see any pretty ones at the forum tonight, Ev?”
I choke mid-bite and a laugh escapes, despite myself. If she only knew.
Maybe… she does know.
