A placid scene. Good place for an ambush.
My stomach twists.
“Do you know why I went to Nepal?” Grandma asks, leaning against the railing of the porch to look out over the harbor.
Strange question. “To help Aunt Franny get over Uncle Ed’s death.”
“That’s one reason. But I did it for Winona, too.”
“You went to Nepal for my mom?” I say scrunching up my nose.
“That’s right,” she says, glancing at my face. “See, it took me a few years to figure it out, but I finally did. I wanted my daughter—Winona—and my granddaughter, you, to come home. But the problem was, my daughter hates my guts. You don’t know how that feels, because you don’t have a daughter yet. But you might one day. And let me tell you, it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” I say.
“She does,” Grandma says diplomatically. “But I’d like tochange that. And the only way I can do that is if she’s home. And the only way to get my daughter home was to leave.”
I blink at her. “You went to Nepal …”
Grandma nods. “So that Winnie would come home. And bring you home. But hey—I’m no fool. I know relationships take time. And I know everything that’s happened was not part of the plan. I like a good plan, see.”
“Me too,” I say.
“But my plan got screwed up when Franny insisted on coming back early. So here we are. And we can’t all live together, of course. There would be five corpses before sundown.”
She’s not wrong.…
“So now we’re on to plan B. You have to have a backup plan. It’s as important as the main plan. That’s what people never understand. It’s two plans, really. Two equal plans.”
“Two equal plans,” I say, realizing immediately that I have failed miserably on this account. Damn. She’s good—evil, but good. Tenacious. Wily as a fox, even.
“So, here’s my backup plan,” she says. “You and Winnie? You take the apartment. I’m moving out.”
“Wait—hold on. It’s your apartment.”
“Yours just as much as mine. We’re just stewards. It belongs to all of us. And if we’re getting technical, then what I want is to start a conversation with your mother about her taking legal ownership of the apartment. But I thought I’d talk to you first, to make sure that’s something you’d want.”
“Me?”
“You and your mother.”
“But … where will you go?”
“I bought a condo before we left for Nepal.” She points over the railing, down toward the main pier. There’s a little white building past the yacht club. “See that? Robin’s Nest Condos. Nick Karras’s parents have one there too, which is how I found out about it, at one of Kat’s backyard barbecues after church on Sundays—”
What. Is. Happening.
“They’ve got stair access to the Harborwalk,” she says, “and I can walk anywhere, including the Shanty Pub, where there’s a group called Yankee Fiddler that plays live traditional New England music every weekend through the fall, and they serve spiked iced lemonade on the patio.”
That sounds like a waking nightmare.
“Also,” she says brightly, “I can bike to the Nook. Or walk. It’s less than a mile. Or I could buy a little boat and dock it at Nick and Kat’s, who knows. Maybe I don’t need to work as much, anyway. Once a week? I like storytime on Saturdays.” She shrugs. “Your mother and I can work out something, I’m sure. And you can keep your darkroom where it’s at—as long as you aren’t taking nudies like your mother. That’s where I put my foot down.”
Ugh. Hearing this now makes me ashamed. Why was I so quick to believe Henry Zabka, a man I didn’t know, over my ownmother? My grandmother did the same thing, believing Adrian Summers to be a perfect golden boy who could do no wrong. Seems as if a lot of women are quick to judge other women, and quicker to forgive men.
“You’ll like my condo, though,” Grandma says, as if we’re making casual conversation and not changing lives. “It’s got three bedrooms, and I already furnished it with the basics, so if Franny and Evie need to live with me until we can kick their tenants out, we’ll do that.”
Aunt Franny won’t like that. Doubt Evie will be all that keen on it either.
