Grandma's Golden Age Chapter 2

Bang.

I thought I was dizzy from cooking and hallucinating, so I subconsciously closed the door.

The wind slammed the door against the wall with a heavy thud.

A few seconds later, I opened the door again.

Outside still stood my granddaughter and her whoring husband, only now their expressions were a bit stiff.

I sighed and let them in.

Looking at this situation, they had reconciled.

I returned to the kitchen, chopping vegetables on the cutting board with a clang clang, getting more annoyed the more I worked.

Before I retired, I was a chef. My cooking is delicious, and I enjoy it, so I'm always the head chef during holidays.

But thinking that part of the food I worked so hard to make today would end up in Jason's stomach made me angry.

I'm eighty years old; I do what I want.

So I quit.

I went to the living room. My son and daughter-in-law had arrived, and they were chatting happily with my granddaughter and grandson-in-law, as if the hotel farce that day was just my personal hallucination.

"I hurt my arm swinging my cane a while ago. It hurts especially today, can't cook anymore."

"Jason, you go do it."

Jason stood up, face full of hesitation. My son wanted to speak for him but was silenced by my glare.

Seeing no one helping him, Jason hesitated for a while but still went into the kitchen.

On the sofa, seeing my displeasure, my granddaughter leaned on me, red-eyed, and said:

"Grandma, I'm pregnant. The doctor said if I abort this time, I might not be able to conceive again."

"Grandma, I'm sorry for making you worry."

Looking at my granddaughter on the verge of tears, my anger vanished instantly, leaving only heartache.

"So you're not pursuing the matter with Jason?"

"Mom, I talked to Jason's family. That was a moment of confusion for him. He promised it won't happen again," my son explained.

"Yes, he even wrote a guarantee letter by hand." My granddaughter took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me.

I didn't even bother to look. Even emperors' edicts can be revoked; what credibility does a guarantee letter from a whoremonger have?

I held my granddaughter's hand tightly and said, "Your pregnancy is a good thing. As long as you're happy, Grandma is happy."

My granddaughter's eyes reddened again, ready to cry.

At this time, Jason shouted from the kitchen that the food was ready.

Looking at the plates of black, unrecognizable food on the table, I barely picked at some to eat.

Ugh. Disgusting.

"Jason, Emily is pregnant now. With your cooking skills, what will you do for meals?" I asked.

"Grandma, we're thinking about that too," Jason replied. "I hired a cook last week, but her cooking was too heavy-handed; we weren't used to it."

"Then find another one. Anything is better than takeout."

"Grandma, we were thinking," Jason stammered, "could you come to our house to help cook? Your cooking is delicious, and you know Emily's taste."

I was shocked.

I've seen people leeching off their parents, but never seen leeching off grandparents.

My granddaughter hurriedly added, "Grandma, I'm on leave to rest for the baby recently. It's boring being home alone, and I hope you can come keep me company."

I took a big gulp of water and asked, "How much did you pay the previous cook a month?"

"$400 a month, responsible for lunch and dinner."

"Fine. I'll also be responsible for your breakfast. I'll give you a discount, $550 a month."

"That price can hire a very good cook on the market," Jason questioned.

"Then spend the money to hire one," I rolled my eyes. "I'm an old bag of bones. I should be enjoying my retirement, yet I have to help you young people."

"You didn't originally think of not paying a cent, did you?"

"Grandma, no problem, I'll transfer the money to you," my granddaughter replied.

"You're pregnant and on leave, where would you get money?" I said to Jason, "You transfer it to me. Pregnancy is 10 months in total, transfer $5,500 to me now."

Jason's face turned green, but with our whole family staring at him intently, he succumbed to the pressure and transferred the money.

Counting the amount received in my bank account, I said, "This money is just for cooking fees. I'll ask you for grocery money every week."