The Billionaire's Assistant

Chapter 11

Kat rounded the corner, smiling to herself as the familiar green and white lettered Spatchy's sign came into view. As long as she'd been old enough to walk back from school herself she'd made the weekday trek to Spatchy's where she perched on the stool behind the counter or in her favorite booth, reading, doing homework, and drawing, whichever chef was on duty sneaking her little plates of rice pilaf with small slices of eggplant parmesan or a bright, acidic tomato and feta salad garnished with fresh herbs. She even got to sneak a piece of baklava when she was lucky, the popularity of the flakey dessert meaning leftovers were scant and far between.

Her smile grew as her mothers frame came into view, leaning over a table of regulars to refill a water glass, nodding pleasantly as they chattered to her. She straightened up and caught sight of Kat outside the window, her face lighting up as she recognized her unusually outfitted daughter. Kat swung the door open, the chimes of its bell more familiar than any sound she knew, and lifted her arms, her mothers already rushing around to sweep her into a hug.

"Kat!" she cried exuberantly, pulling the young woman in tight as if she hadn't seen her in years. Kat lets her head fall into her mothers shoulder, soaking in the comforting scent of jasmine that always emanated from her long, brown hair. Her mother pulls back with both hands on Kat's shoulders, inspecting her.

"What are you wearing?" she asked incredulously, entirely unused to seeing her daughter in anything but sloganed t-shirts. Kat took a deep breath. She'd considered it on the walk over and decided she would tell her mom about Tillibenton and her new job. Her mom didn't worry about her, not exactly, but she was concerned that over a year after graduating college Kat seemed to have no job, no plan for grad school, and no prospects. Kat knew her mother was not a materialistic woman, but she also knew that she'd worked hard to put her through college and wanted to see it pay off, wanted her daughter to experience things she was never able to have. A job at Tillibenton, especially one making as much as she now did, was her mothers dream for her come true, security, stability, and the opportunity to make her own choices. She wanted to give her mother that sense of accomplishment, that confirmation of a reward for all her effort no matter how short lived it may be. Her mother had no idea that she was a member of FES, had no idea what FES even was, and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could, keep any needling concern her mother may have for her at bay.

"I got a job" she said simply, the guilt of deception gnawing at her chest despite the fact that she'd spoken the truth.

"You," her mother began, stopping short as her jaw dropped. "You what? What job? You did? Oh my Kat," her mother cooed. "My little girl." Her mother was already misty eyed, and Kat had to giggle, tickled at the way her mother supported her so much that she was holding back proud tears for a job that, as well as she knew, could've been anything.

"I applied for a job, I didn't really think I'd get it," Kat explained, sticking to her strategy of telling the truth with certain key omissions. Her mother nodded, enraptured. "And I got it," Kat finished anticlimactically. "It's with Tillibenton."

Her mothers eyes widened further. "You got a job with Tillibenton? Doing what?" Her mothers eyes suddenly flicked over Kat's shoulder and she smiled pleasantly, the expression on her face giving Kat notice to step to the side as there was a customer looking to enter and they were still standing in the doorway.

The bell dinged again and a woman in a knee length wool sweater and tights blew in, squeezing sideways to fit the mass of shopping bags clutched in each hand. Kat's mother grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the leftmost barstool, still her and Kat's favorite because of Mrs. Szabo.

"Be right with you hun," she called to the red cheeked woman who settled herself into a booth, and Martha swung around the counter, speaking quietly to the chef through the window as she passed him.

"All right," she said more quietly, planting her hands on the counter that now stood between her and her daughter. "Really quick, the dinner rush is about to start. Doing what?"

"I'm just an assistant," Kat says quickly. "It's not that big of a deal, it's just the business clothes," she says with a gesture to her outdated skirt suit.

Her mother wrinkled her nose lightly at the 80's era ensemble.

"I'll take you shopping," she assured in the same hush, causing a brief smile to flash across Kat's face. "Kitty you can't say just an assistant, it's an enormous company, this an amazing opportunity. Just an assistant now, director of operations next," she said, giving her daughter's chin a little tweak. "Be excited, this is exciting."

Kat smiled limply, knowing her mother could feel a sense that something was off but hoping she wasn't able to pinpoint what. Her mother knew her well, too well, and there had been times when keeping FES from her had seemed impossible, even unnecessary. But she was sworn to secrecy, all of them were. Andy had explained exactly how severe the consequences could be for the people that loved you, subjected as she was to the questioning, interrogations, and eventual foster homes of her youth after her brother, her only legal guardian, had been exposed as radical and killed. Kat knew she was protecting her mother by keeping her in the dark, but lying to the woman who'd done nothing but love her since her birth made her feel sick, and she rushed to change the subject.

"Look," she said, pulling aside her lapel to reveal the lily pin, its gold plated outline making the pearled finish of the lily itself pop. Her mother smiled, a deeper smile than her usual cheer, one more complex, one born of emotion aged and pungent. She reached out and touched the pin lightly, gently running the pad of her index finger across its finely textured surface.

"You look beautiful Kitty," she said, her voice even lower. "I know your dad would be so proud of you." She smiled again, pressing her lips together as her soft eyes met her daughters. "Keep him with you. I know you know what I'm gonna say."

"He loved me more than anything," Kat recited.

"Exactly," confirmed her mother, grabbing the side of Kat's face and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Stavros is making you a plate," she said, straightening up and retying her apron as she headed towards the woman that had entered, order pad in hand. "Come home this weekend," she instructed without turning.

"I will," Kat promised.

"Sunday," her mother clarified.

"I will." said Kat, jumping down from the stool and lifting the table to go behind the counter her mother had just left.

She grabbed her to-go plate from Stavros, going through the motions of the pantomime they'd engaged in ever since she was little. Her mother had picked up conversational Greek easily, spending the majority of the day at one of the city's most authentic Greek restaurants and therefore becoming friendly with all the regulars who returned for food that reminded them of their homeland. Mr. and Mrs. Protgolio spoke Greek, all their chefs spoke Greek, and the bright Martha had picked it up as well, a midwestern transplant who'd never felt the sand of the beaches of Cyprus on her toes chatting in an ancient language with an old gossipy Yia Yia. Kat however, had no such luck, and despite the hours she'd spent in the miniaturized Greek village that was Spatchy's, she could barely string together a sentence. She'd known Stavros since she was born however, and looks, gestures, and good food communicated everything they needed it to.