Celebrate the small victories, the Internet had advised.
Trey touched his arm. “Come on, Granddad. Let’s get you upstairs.”
His tenderness brought tears to my eyes. He was such a good grandson.
“We can see ourselves out,” Phee said.
“I’ll stay,” I said. “I don’t want to leave Trey with all the cleanup.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Trey said. “This has been great. Thank you both so much.”
“Don’t be silly,” Phee said. “You can take her home?”
“I’ll be fine, Aunt Phee.”
She sniffed. “You’re a grown woman. I suppose you’ll make your own arrangements.” She picked up her dog. “Good night, James.”
He smiled—a real, recognizable smile—before pushing to his feet, using the arms of his chair. I held my breath, afraid he would fall as he reached across the table. He tugged a flower from the vase I’d placed and handed it to her. “Pink,” he said.
She blushed to match the flower. Two old friends, sharing a memory of what might have been. The poignance jabbed my heart.
Gripping his walker, he turned to me. “Thank you,” he said clearly.
“You’re so welcome.” I squeezed his arm. “I had a lovely time.”
His eyes brimmed. “Yes.”
Impulsively, I kissed him, his unshaven cheek rough against my lips. “Good night.”
He nodded and stumped away.
Trey was watching, his black gaze unreadable. “I’ll be down soon.”
“Take your time. I’ve got dishes to wash.”
I listened to their voices—to Trey’s voice, warm and low—as he coaxed and coached his grandfather up the stairs.
“He likes you,” Phee said.
“Beth is his favorite.”
“You need to stop comparing yourself to your sisters.”
“I will if you will.”
She huffed in acknowledgment. “That was a good thing you did tonight for James.”
“It was fun.”
“You should say thank you when someone pays you a compliment.”
“Why, thank you, Aunt Phee,” I said, drawling my words like a Southern belle.
Another puff like laughter.
“I’ll miss you,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow. “I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.”
