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She bent down, wrapping him in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the crown of his dark hair.

“Look at you. Did you grow another inch since the last time I saw you?”

“I think I did!” he answered with absolute certainty.

“You eating all your vegetables?”

“No,” he said, entirely too honest.

I folded my arms against the doorframe. “He eats plenty. Mostly snacks he steals from the counter.”

Caspian’s mother laughed, straightening up with an arm still securely around Kaidence’s shoulder. “Hey, Lakelyn.”

“Hey.”

We shared a warm, familiar hug.

Granny started to push herself up from the armchair, but Caspian’s mother held up a hand. “Don’t you dare stand up on my account, Lizzy. I’m coming to you.”

Granny sank back down with a grateful smile. “I was fixing to give you a proper greeting.”

“And you’re going to give it to me right here where you’re comfortable.”

Caspian’s mom crossed the room and embraced Granny with careful gentleness, leaning down to press her cheek against hers.

Over the six years since Caspian had disappeared, an unspoken understanding had formed between the two women. Granny had watched me shatter into pieces and slowly rebuild my life around a newborn son; Henrietta had endured the brutal, unresolved grief of losing her only boy. They didn’t need long speeches or grand gestures; they simply showed up for each other when the ground shook.

“How are you feeling these days?” Henrietta asked, pulling up an ottoman to sit near Granny’s knees.

“Clearer than they were Monday,” Granny said, patting her hand. “Doctor adjusted my inhaler and gave me something for the inflammation. Just gotta take things slow.”

“You gave all of us a fright,” Caspian’s mother murmured. “You need anything brought over? Groceries? Extra air purifiers?”

“Lakelyn took care of all that,” Granny replied with a fond roll of her eyes. “Child came home and took over the whole operation. Got lists on top of lists.”

“Because your previous medical organization consisted of sticky notes and prayers,” I said from the table.

“It worked for seventy years,” Granny shot back.

Caspian’s mother broke into a rich laugh, and even Granny cracked a grin.

Willow bounded over from the couch, pulling Caspian’s mother into an enthusiastic hug. “Look at you, Ms. Henrietta. Glowing. What perfume is that? Because I know it’s not from the department store counter.”

“La Vie Est Belle,” Henrietta answered, smoothing a hand over her sweater. “Lancôme. I’ve been wearing it for years.”

Willow pointed dramatically at her. “See? That’s why you’re my favorite grandma figure in this city.”

Granny narrowed her eyes from the armchair. “I’m sitting right in front of your face, little girl.”

“Different categories of grandmotherly excellence, Granny. You hold the domestic and ancestral title; Ms. Henrietta holds the luxury and cosmetics division,” Willow clarified.

Kaidence wandered over, holding up his tablet. “I have two grandmas and three monster trucks.”

“See?” Willow gestured broadly. “The boy understands organizational hierarchy.” “But yeah,” she continued, talking to Henrietta, “most people would’ve tried to gatekeep and told me, ‘Oh, I don’t remember the name,’ knowing dang well the bottle is sitting on their dresser. May God continue to bless women who share perfume names instead of sending everybody on a scavenger hunt.”

Henrietta laughed. “Amen, I guess.”

“Amen indeed.”