“I've had nothing but time to think, dear. That's what happens when you reach my age and your boyfriend eats your pie.”
Lauren laughed again. “He ate your pie?”
“The whole thing. He didn't even save me a slice.”
“That's grounds for eviction.”
“I'm considering it.” Grandma Sarah smiled, feeling the conversation shift in her favor. “So? Will you at least think about it? Talk to Jeff, see if he can manage the children for a few days. I'll call Sarah and make my case to her as well. And if it doesn't work out, I'll drive up myself.”
“You are not driving to Massachusetts alone.”
“Then help me not be alone.”
Lauren exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of surrender. “I'll talk to Jeff tonight. No promises.”
“That's all I ask.”
“That is absolutely not all you ask. You ask for everything, always.”
“And yet you keep answering the phone.”
“Goodbye, Grandma.”
“Goodbye, dear. Call me tomorrow with good news.”
She ended the call and set the phone on her lap, satisfaction spreading through her chest. One down, one to go. Lauren was the harder sell because she had the most complicated schedule, the most moving pieces to arrange. Sarah, her namesake and her middle granddaughter, would be easier to convince.
At least, that was what she told herself.
She looked over at Walter, who had abandoned all pretense of doing his crossword and was watching her with open amusement.
“You're going to drive to Massachusetts,” he said.
“I am.”
“In the RV.”
“That's generally how one uses an RV, yes.”
“And you're dragging your granddaughters along.”
“I prefer to think of it as inviting them on a journey of family connection and personal growth.”
Walter shook his head, but he was smiling. He had been withher long enough to know when she had made up her mind, and he had learned early on that arguing was pointless. Sarah Garrison did not change course once she had set one.
“What about me?” he asked. “Am I invited on this journey?”
Sarah considered this. She loved Walter, she truly did. He was kind and patient and he made her laugh, which was no small thing at her age. But the RV trip she was envisioning was not about romantic companionship. It was about the women of her family, traveling in a small space, sharing stories and memories and the kind of conversations that only happened when you were trapped together on a highway with nothing to do but talk.
“You,” she said gently, “are going to stay here and buy me a new key lime pie. Several, actually. And when I come back, you're going to tell me how much you missed me.”
“I already know how much I'll miss you.”
“Good. Then you can practice saying it.”
He laughed, a warm sound that filled the small living room. “You're something else, Sarah Garrison.”
“I know.” She held out her hand. “Now help me off this sofa. I need to call my other granddaughter before she makes plans that don't include me.”
