An hour later, he was at the Stand, already sitting at their usual table, with coffee and doughnuts he’d brought in from a shop down the street, when Miriam came in at seven, just as they’d arranged. Hair and makeup done, wearing white capris and a short-sleeved light blue cotton top he’d never seen before, she looked small walking toward him. And yet putting on a good face. Her below-the-elbow cast caught his eye, renewing his anger at whomever had hurt her. He stood, pulled out her chair and set her coffee—black and mild as she liked it—in front of her.
“I brought you old-fashioned plain. Your favorite,” he said, taking a doughnut out of the box and putting it on a napkin.
“You’re a good boy, Mason.” She didn’t quite pull off a smile, but it looked as though she’d tried.
She nibbled a little of the doughnut. Mason watched, figuring the bagel he’d purchased for himself would wait until the drive to Albina.
“It’s my turn to make breakfast at the house this morning,” she said, when he mentioned her lack of appetite. “I’ve got to be back soon.”
He didn’t know whether to celebrate the fact that she seemed to be engaged with her temporary life circumstances, or to point out that they didn’t have long to talk. He’d let her know the day before that he needed time with her. She could have rescheduled breakfast duty.
She was using it as an excuse, flimsy at best, not to have to talk with him for long. Watching her, he wished his father was alive and could translate Gram’s actions for him.
“How did it go with Brianna yesterday?” He started there to put her at ease.
“Great.” Her smile was genuine this time, and she met his gaze. “We made chocolate chip cookies for her to give to the kids in her class today. She insisted on doing all the measuring herself—said her mom showed her how—and needed very little help in getting it right. We just had to increase the ingredients because we were doubling the recipe.”
A four-year-old who grasped the concept of measurement? He felt the news with a sharp stab of—
No. This wasn’t about him. It was about taking care of his family. Taking care of Gram and Bruce.
“I should’ve been teaching her when she visited on weekends, but I didn’t want to take her away from Bruce. She’s his only child and he has so little time with her…”
Instincts on full alert, Mason said, “I had a chat with Grace yesterday.”
The doughnut captured Gram’s full attention. Fingers picking at it, she was creating a small pile of crumbs.
“I was shocked when she told me the two of you haven’t spoken in almost a year.”
More crumbs. No words.
“She misses you.”
“She knows my number.”
“You know hers, too.”
Gram’s nod wasn’t encouraging. It disclosed nothing of what she was thinking.
“Don’t you miss her, too?”
That got Gram’s attention. “Of course I do,” she said, bringing some crumbs to her mouth.
“So…what happened?”
Gram shrugged. Ate another small piece. “People change.”
“Almost a whole life of being friends, and now, in your seventies, people change?”
“She wants me to be like her—free from family responsibility, doing whatever she wants when she wants it.”
“Grace has never seemed like a selfish person to me. As far as I can tell, she still spends most of her time volunteering at church, and with the women’s auxiliary.”
Gram nodded.
“You used to love doing those things, too.”
“I have a home and family to take care of.”
“Bruce is a grown man who lived on his own long enough to know how to take care of himself.”
“It’s a big house.”
“So hire some help.”
She shook her head, frowning, and he knew he’d overstepped on that one. Gram would never be happy with someone else running her home. She liked things done her way.
“She says Bruce wouldn’t let you drive at night anymore. Is that true?”
She’d driven herself to urgent care.
“He gets nervous. And I don’t like to be out alone at night. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be.”