Page 112
Truth was that family could become too noisy.
Everyone had an opinion.
And when my sweet, overthinking, soup-spilling grandson, Zachary, was finally ready and just on the cusp of having a crisis about dying alone? I didn't panic. I didn't knit him some sad blanket of solitude for his couch.
No.
I handled it.
Then I started with tradition. Booked a room on a boat to ask Morskoi of the sea to bring Zachary love. Was there a casino and a buffet? Yes.
But that's not why I did it. Just extra benefits.
And I met Tess. Peggy's granddaughter.
Tess had the eyes. Not simple "I love dogs" eyes.
She had curious eyes. Eyes that noticed what wasn't said.
I watched her—always on the edge, listening. Smart girl. Not afraid of Babushka.
Not yet, anyway.
I had offered her a proposition. "Help me find someone for my grandson. Make it natural. You're clever. You can make it seem like accident."
In return I gave her… well that is between us, yes?
Tess had looked at me like I'd asked her to rob a bank. But after two shots of cranberry vodka (the weak kind, for Americans), she'd said, "Okay, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."
"Yes, you are," I had replied.
"Excuse me?"
"Vhat?"
"Did you?—"
"I said vatermelon is good in August."
Language was flexible.
And now look. Backyard. Vows. Flowers everywhere. Guests weeping.
I took a long sip of my champagne as Zachary dipped Piper for a dramatic kiss. They nearly fell.
Excellent. Must keep them humble.
Later, people would toast.
People would ask, "How did this happen?" and "How did fate know?" and "Didn't Zach have a weird thing with that doctor lady?"
And I would sit, perfectly composed, and tell them: "Love finds a way."
My gaze trailed to Morty. Love does find a way. But only if Babushka gives it a little push, da?
They wouldn't even know where to start asking follow-up questions. Which was, of course, the point.
I stood and went over to squeeze Piper's hand. Piper looked at me like she wanted to cry and laugh and maybe throttle me just once, for balance.
