“Of course, Grandma.” Grant pats her on the shoulder and turns around leaving me to make civil conversation. Has he forgotten who I am?
“Oh, Grant,” she calls and they both stop and turn back. “None of that cheap white wine. Get me something with vodka in it.”
I smile but quickly pin my lips together so she doesn’t see.
“There’s no point in coming to these functions if they don’t serve the good stuff.” Her attention returns to the table while I work to perfect my posture in the chair. “All right, now that the men are gone we can girl talk.”
Great. Just what I was afraid of happening. I hope they bring me back something with vodka in it as well.
“Grant has told me much about you, but I want to hear more. How is the center?”
“Umm… it’s good.” Super, Clare. Really great. Way to show off your impressive vocabulary.
Thankfully she doesn’t notice and keeps the conversation going on her own. “Grant and I donated every year to the city, but when Mr. Dunbar took over we couldn’t stand him and instead started sending the money to PBS. But now you’re the director we should look into it again.”
Mr. Dunbar hasn’t worked for the city since the 1990s, but all evidence supports his horribleness. His legacy lives in infamy to this day. Tales of his behavior and bad policies are passed down like camp fire ghost horror stories.
“We have a new overhead director now. Her name is Shelley Peters. She’s great and gave most of the day-to-day control back to each facility.”
“Yes, but it must make a lot of work for those of you running a place by yourselves.”
“It can at times, but I rely heavily on volunteers. And after the big fundraising event this year I hired help. There are so many kids impacted. It’s worth it.”
“And I’ve heard you’ve gotten Grant volunteering, which we both find refreshing. Grant is slated to take over the family business, and we hate for him to lose sight of the community he lives in. It’s something his father struggles with…” Her words trail off for a moment. “Well, he’s struggled with it since primary school. It’s the reason we decided to skip over him and pass the reins on to Grant.”
“I had no idea.”
Grant doesn’t talk about his father much. My mind races to remember any mention.
Grant doesn’t talk about his father at all.
I’ve worked so hard to make sure he didn’t ask about mine I never stopped to realize he’s never mentioned his. Grant has daddy issues of his own.
“No, you probably didn’t. The two of them are oil and water. Little Grant spent years looking for a dad in his father, but he was only interested in the next shiny new toy.”
A father that is physically present but mentally unavailable sounds as bad or worse than no father.
“His mother tried to be both parents, but a little boy wants his dad.” She taps the table twice and her words pick up. “Enough sad talk. Tell me how you feel about my grandson.”
“Um….” I was doing so well with the conversation.
She laughs. “Don’t worry.” She pats my hand a few times — in support, I guess. “I already know.”
“You do?” That’s news to me.
“Yes. I see the way you look at each other. It’s love.”
“What?” My eyes bug out, highlighting my shock. “No. We just met.”
She smiles, wrinkles creasing around her lips from a lifetime of happy memories. “You’ll both get there… eventually. Just don’t take the long way. I want great-grandchildren before I kick the bucket.”
“Great-grandchildren?” I ask, no less than horrified. I’m still on the fence about the kitten.
A hand falls on my shoulder, the grip tight. “Why does Clare look like she’s seen a ghost? What were you talking about?” Grant asks taking a seat on the other side of me.
“Us?” I play coy and gather my wits. Now is not the time to throw Grant’s grandmother under the bus. “Girl talk. You know.”
The overly happy smile I plaster on appeases him and the conversation changes topic. There is much discussion on whether the chicken will be overcooked. Tonight’s edition ofRich People Gossiprevolves around how last time they left the chicken on the warming racks too long. It was scandalous in everyone’s eyes.
