“We get through dessert.”
“Then I’ll talk to Adrian myself.”
Claire did not look satisfied.
“Promise me you won’t do anything.”
She looked innocent immediately.
That was terrifying.
“Claire.”
“I won’t do anything.”
“Anything?”
“I will not cause a scene at Grandma’s birthday.”
That was not exactly what I asked.
I should have noticed.
The following Sunday, Eleanor turned seventy-two.
By five in the afternoon, she had changed earrings three times.
She wore the red dress.
Not because Adrian bought it.
Because she had bought it for herself the previous spring after years of refusing to wear anything that drew attention.
She stood in front of the hallway mirror.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“The lipstick?”
“Perfect.”
“I look seventy-two.”
“You are seventy-two.”
She glared.
“Very supportive.”
“You look beautiful.”
That made her smile.
Claire appeared behind us.
“Grandma, if I look half that good at seventy-two, I’m going to become unbearable.”
“You’re already unbearable.”
“Then imagine.”
The doorbell rang at six.
Adrian stood outside carrying roses in one hand and a small wrapped gift in the other.
And, of course, the leather satchel.
Claire saw it.
So did I.
Our eyes met.
Do not.
I mouthed it.
She rolled hers.
Dinner was wonderful.
That was the painful part.
If Adrian had been distant or cruel, everything would have been easier.
Instead, he made my mother laugh until she snorted.
He had found an old gardening book from the 1960s because Eleanor once mentioned her father owned the same edition.
When she unwrapped it, she pressed both hands to her mouth.
“How did you find this?”
“Months of highly sophisticated research.”
“You searched online.”
“Yes.”
She kissed him.
Claire looked at me.
For a while, even she seemed to soften.
At 7:15, Mom brought out the chocolate pie.
Adrian looked at it.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You made it.”
“You said it was your favorite.”
“It is.”
“Then why the face?”
He smiled, but something had changed.
His phone had buzzed twice in the previous five minutes.
He kept checking the screen.
Mom cut the pie.
Claire glanced at the clock.
