“That's a two-day drive. Maybe three, depending on stops.”
“I'm aware of geography, dear. I taught it for thirty years.”
“You taught history.”
“Same maps.”
Lauren sighed, and Sarah could picture her exactly: standing in her kitchen in Sarasota, one hand pressed to her forehead, trying to figure out how to say no to a woman who had never accepted no as an answer.
“Grandma, I have three kids. Jeff has work. Olivia has tennis practice, and Lily has her piano recital next week. I can't just pack up and drive to Massachusetts.”
“The recital is on Saturday. I checked. We wouldn't leave until Sunday.”
“You checked?”
“I keep a calendar. Don't sound so surprised.”
“A calendar of my children's activities?”
“A calendar of everything. How do you think I remember all your birthdays? There are a lot of you. It requires organization.”
Lauren went quiet again. Sarah waited. She had learned over the years that silence was often more persuasive than words. Let people sit with an idea, and they usually talked themselves into it without any help.
“Even if I wanted to,” Lauren finally said, “three days in an RV with you sounds...intense.”
“I prefer the word 'memorable.'”
“That's what I'm afraid of.”
Sarah shifted tactics. She hadn't survived eight decades byusing only one approach. “What if it wasn't just the two of us? What if we invited your sister?”
“Which one? Beth is about to give birth, and I don't think she's in driving condition.”
“Not Beth. Sarah.”
Another pause. “My sister Sarah?”
“Do you have another one I don't know about?”
“I'm just surprised. Sarah has the kids, and Trevor, and her work at the Outreach Center. She's even busier than I am.”
“Which is exactly why she needs a break.” Sarah leaned forward, warming to her argument. “Think about it. Three strong women, on the open road, heading north to welcome the newest members of our family. It's poetic.”
“It's a logistical nightmare.”
“Some of the best adventures are.” Sarah paused, letting that sink in. “Lauren, when was the last time you did something spontaneous? Something that wasn't on a schedule or a calendar or a list?”
The silence stretched longer this time. Grandma Sarah could almost hear Lauren thinking, weighing responsibilities against desire, practicality against the pull of something unexpected.
“I would have to talk to Jeff,” Lauren said slowly.
“Of course.”
“And your namesake would have to agree. Sarah would definitely have to figure out childcare for Noah and Sophia and Little Maggie. Trevor isn’t always available.”
“Trevor is perfectly capable. And his father Devon has been looking for more time with the grandchildren. I happen to know this because Sarah told me at the Christmas boat parade that he wished he saw them more often.”
“You've really thought this through.”
