Jean Grant looked chagrined. "Quentin, is it really just because of some woman? Are you never going to forgive Mom?"
Quentin Grant's expression was forlorn as he looked at her. "For someone as starved for affection as you, you wouldn't understand. Go back and tell her to stop sending people over."
He rounded his desk, walked past Jean Grant, and headed for the door.
Jean Grant hurried after him.
"Quentin, can't you just come home for dinner?"
Quentin Grant pressed the elevator button, stepped inside with one hand in his pocket, and she followed, standing beside him.
"Quentin! I came all this way. If you won't do it for Mom's sake, at least do it for mine, okay?"
He sneered. "And what makes you think you have any say in the matter?"
Jean Grant was taken aback. "I may not have any clout, but I've got integrity."
