Logan--The girls cooking for us are much more subdued tonight than they were this morning. I try not to think about how much of that meeting they eavesdropped on, and focus on getting Emory fed. My guess is that she’ll want comfort food, after a fraught meeting. “Do you want some kind of soup, Little Rose? Maybe a casserole or pizza?” She crinkles her nose. “No, with how many people I’ve met today, I’m thinking I need brain fuel. A big old salad with some grilled chicken on it, maybe? With all the good stuff in it, though. All the fruits and everything, I mean.” The girls in the kitchen deflate at such an easy meal, but I have to acknowledge to myself that I’m glad she’s eating some vegetables that aren’t smothered in noodles and MSG. I also need to set aside time to talk to Nanny about her proteges minding their own fucking business. “That’s a great idea. The same for me, please, ladies.” They exchange a glance and get to work, the blonde cooking the chicken with some kind of impr
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