“I’ll wash the curtains tomorrow,” I say. “I might be able to get them a bit brighter.”
“You should—”
“Hang them in the sun, I know.” Everything I know about caring for fabric and clothing is because of Nan. She can remove any stain, and she’s a wonderful seamstress.
“Should we start a puzzle?” I ask after I’ve cleaned up. We spent many nights puzzling here after the twins went to bed.
Nan’s standing at the bookshelf, holding a glass jar of matchbooks.
“What’s that?”
Her smile is sad. “Memories.”
I cross the room, and she passes it to me. I fish a matchbook out. It’s navy and silver, with the name of a restaurant I don’t recognize on the front flap and a Toronto address written on the back.
“They collected these to light the fire?” I guess.
“No. It was a game your grandpa and John used to play. They’d hide a matchbook every time they visited each other. These are the ones your grandpa hid here. There’s probably some still squirreled away.”
That sounds safe. I narrow my eyes and look around the room. The rafters would be a good hiding spot. There must be a ladder somewhere.
“Alice,” Nan says, and I turn my attention back to her. “You don’t need to hunt out the matches. We’ll be fine.”
I set the jar back on the shelf, deciding not to agree with that.
Nan stares at it for a moment longer, at the decades of friendship contained within it. It must be hard for her—coming here after all this time, without Grandpa, without Joyce.
“You’re going to have a great summer, Nan. I’ll make sure of it.” I’ve found a choir she can join. There’s a regular euchre night at one of the churches.
“I know you will.” She pats my shoulder. “I want you to have a great summer, too. Let your hair down. Do something stupid. Do somethingselfish.”
“I’m spending two months on a lake with no plans except to hang out with my dear grandmother. How much more selfish can I be?”
“You’ve invited your niece for a week to give your sister a break,” she says.
My brows furrow. “So?”
“And you’re paying for Luca and Lavinia’s car rental when they visit for your birthday.”
“I haven’t spent much time with the twins this year,” I say. “Idon’t want it to be a hassle for them to come.” I’m not sure they would unless I covered the cost. Financial responsibility eludes them. I’m pretty sure our dad still pays their rent. Not that I’m complaining—he helped me with the down payment on my condo.
“You’ve booked me in for my hair appointments,” Nan says.
“Every Monday.”
“And you’ve found a physiotherapist in town.”
“She comes highly recommended. And I’ve got the newspaper delivery set up so you can do your crossword.” Nan says it keeps her brain sharp, but she’s addicted to the satisfaction of completing it, which she never fails to do. Her brain needs no sharpening.
“You’ve been very considerate of my needs, and I’m thankful. But I don’t want you playing nurse to me all day. What are you going to do for yourself?”
“I have some editing work to do.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I’m going to relax.”
“And what does that look like?”
