Chapter Eleven - An Empire to Run - Sunday evening . Escala

I become aware of delicious cooking smells… of fresh baking, if I'm not mistaken. Where on earth is it coming from? For a moment I'm baffled, before I realize the smell is emanating from my own staff quarters. Mrs. Jones was going to move in tonight.

As I approach the staff kitchen, I find Gail tending her baking. She's lost in thought and I don't want to disturb her. She jumps when she sees me watching.

Her long blonde hair is pulled back with an oversized clip. She's dressed in jeans, and a tank top with a linen apron.

"What are you doing, Mrs. Jones?" It comes out harsher than I intend.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grey, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Mrs. Jones, it's me that should be apologizing. I didn't mean to intrude."

"I was done unpacking and wanted to get a head start on tomorrow."

"You are supposed to be off."

"With all due respect, Mr. Grey, please don't ask me to punch a time clock. I will have your meals ready whenever you direct. You can count on me being here whenever you need me. I need to have flexibility in performing the rest of my duties. If you do something you love, you'll never work a day in your life. I want to love taking care of your home."

Gail takes splendid care of my home. "As you wish."

"I have coffee, sir. I was just going to sample a muffin. They are just out of the oven. Will you join me? Cinnamon apple applesauce."

"Why, yes, I will." It sounds promising. It will be a delight if that's what I am smelling.

She places a steaming mug of coffee and a muffin on a small plate on the breakfast bar for me. Milk and sugar are on the counter between us. She comes around the counter at sits on the stool at the far end. This seems so odd, sharing food with staff… and yet comforting somehow.

"This is good, Mrs. Jones."

"I'm glad you like them… would you like another?"

"Not tonight."

"With breakfast then?"

"Yes, certainly."

When I look up, I notice several opaque plastic trays on the window ledge, where they can get sun through the glass. The trays are about four inches tall, twelve inches wide and maybe sixteen inches long. I can see tiny green leaves showing over the top. I hope it's nothing illegal. "What is THAT, Mrs. Jones?"

"The fish boxes, sir?"

"Fish boxes?"

"I recycled the boxes that fresh fish is delivered to the restaurants in. These are my herb garden, sir. I started everything from seeds. Fresh herbs are always the best. All they need is a little water, a little light… and a little TLC, sir. I hope you don't mind."

"No 'special' herbs?"

She suddenly sees where I'm going! "No, sir. No weed. I don't… I just don't."

I walk over to examine her herb garden closely. Inside each fish box, as she calls them, are premolded little containers. Each section has a tiny shoot or two an inch or two tall. The leaves are clearly different; each row has a neat label.

"Grey Food Services supports composting for community gardens… but you already knew that."

"Yes, sir, I did. I love cooking fresh whenever possible. I like to grow sweet peas, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet peppers… anything I can grow in containers. I'm looking forward to gardening 'on high', sir."

"Why would that be?"

"I probably won't have to worry about deer raiding my garden."

"I'd think not." Maybe she has deer in her garden… Where? Maybe at her sister's in Portland… That is where she was living.

"Except maybe if Rudolph leads a raiding party."

She has a quick and ready whit. "Indeed."

"My company, GEH, grants support the Environmental Sciences Dept at WSU. There are test sites throughout the GEH building. The oxygen producing plants are most visible in the atrium but also in the offices and reception areas. The plants are varied depending on their light exposure and other conditions. The atrium is near GEH employee child care services. It's good for the environment and the employees seem to like it."

I have secretly wondered if the increased oxygen improved productivity. I liked the pitch that it would be a good thing but I left it to the horticulturists. I haven't had dirt on my hands in years. It never occurred to me to grow anything here at Escala… I never dreamed that it was possible. It's been a long time since I was that little boy Grandfather Trevelyan so patiently taught on his farm.

"No, I don't mind, Mrs. Jones. I like to protect the environment we all live in. We all breathe the same air. Growing foods is a bonus."

"I imagine you use decorative planters in your building, Mr. Grey?"

"Yes," I say but I really hadn't paid attention. I've let the professionals make the decisions. I just sign the checks.

"As I become better acquainted with the apartment, sir, it would be lovely if you wanted to do that here. The plants make oxygen as part of photosynthesis which generally requires some light. The planters and urns are moveable. I'd enjoy collaborating with your horticulturists."

"I can arrange that." We can do this but it's not an immediate need. "Let's discuss this further once you've settled in."

"Yes, I will."

"Thankyou, Mr. Grey."

"I'm going to invite my brother over some night this week. We have some business to discuss, then we'll have dinner or order in pizza or something." I don't want to run a construction company but as an investor in his company, I need to ensure his success. I want to discuss his professional image. It's past time to upgrade his truck, logos and signage.

"I will be pleased to make dinner for you and your brother, sir. Would it just be the two of you? I can make anything you like."

"What would you suggest?"

"For your brother… he's in construction?"

"Yes."

"I'd suggest something hearty. I can make anything you want. Steak, roast beef, chicken or turkey. You mentioned pizza. I can make pizza."

"You can make pizza?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll let you know." Pizza and beer… Elliot's favorite meal.

"I'll bid you good night."

"Good night, Sir."

- Monday morning

Up high at my Escala penthouse, it's been light for some time while down on the ground, dawn is just breaking. I've had a few hours of sleep and now I'm restless. At 6 AM I emerge from my bedroom wearing my workout gear and discover Mrs. Jones already working in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sir." she says cheerily. She's dressed in khaki slacks, a starched white short sleeve shirt with her linen apron over it. Her long blonde hair is pulled back with a large claw hair clip. Her hair is attractive if you like blondes. At once, quick to do and a professional look for food service staff.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jones."

"Would you like something to eat, Mr. Grey?"

"Not now, thank you."

Walking around her, I pick up the juice glass from the placemat on the breakfast bar and pour myself a glass of orange juice.

"I would have gotten that, sir."

"I know. I'm not used to having help." Is that it? I am used to being on my own. "I'm going out for a run."

"Yes, sir. Breakfast when you get back then."

"In about an hour… After my shower."

"What would you like this morning?"

"An omelet, bacon, whole wheat toast and one of your delicious muffins."

"It will be ready when you are."

I finish my O.J. and head to the elevator. I finish my stretches on the way down. The concierge greets me as I exit the elevator. "Good morning, Mr. Grey."

I give him a half wave and a "Good morning, George." But I don't linger.

I jog in place through the revolving door and am on my pace before I have cleared the entry canopy.

My shower completed, I am dressed in a finely tailored grey suit of Italian wool as I sit at the breakfast bar. My coffee is ready and Mrs. Jones puts my food in front of me. "Would you like anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Jones."

"What do I need to know about today's schedule, Mr. Grey?"

"Today's a typical weekday for me. I'll be at my office most of the day. I'll be home for dinner by seven. I shouldn't need you after that. After dinner I'll have a workout with Claude, my personal trainer. We'll use the basement gym tonight."

"This morning, I will check the fridge and plan meals. Is there anything specific you'd like, sir?" She pauses… "I'll shop tomorrow unless there's something we need immediately."

"That's fine" I say, although I really have no idea. I have put my faith and trust in her… I can relax; my meals will be taken care of. That's a lot of trust but also a relief… a burden lifted. I think I like it.

"I will have my Personal Assistant, Judith, get in touch today. Judith keeps my calendar. As you know, my schedule can change on short notice but Judith or I will inform you of changes at the earliest opportunity." I make a mental note… I need to be able to contact Mrs. Jones at all times, I'll take over responsibility for her phone.

I have everything packed in my fine Italian leather brief case as I head off to the office. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen as I walk to the elevator.

She looks up… "Goodbye. Have a good day, sir."