"Did you know," Old Mrs. Margaret whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischief, "that my grandson is terrified of cats?"
I blinked, trying to picture the intimidating Nathaniel Ricardo cowering before a fluffy kitten. "Cats?"
She nodded solemnly. "Ever since he was small. One scratched him badly when he was three. Never gone near one since."
A strange flicker of déjà vu passed through me. A little boy with dark hair, crying over a cat scratch... I shook the thought away. Must be my imagination.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Knowledge is power, dear." She patted my hand. "And you'll need every advantage with that stubborn boy."
I couldn't help smiling. Old Mrs. Margaret might be suffering from Alzheimer's, but she was still sharp in her own way.
"Now," she continued, "you'll start at Ricardo Group tomorrow. I've already arranged everything."
"What exactly will I be doing?"
"Taking care of Ricardo Jr., of course!"
"Ricardo... Jr.?"
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