She grinned at me, neon purple tracksuit glowing in the morning light, gold jewelry catching the sun with every movement. At her feet were her three pugs—leashes tangled together like they’d been plotting something. We walked them together most mornings. Mildred, Harold, and Dot never failed to behave exactly as their names suggested. Mildred sniffed the threshold suspiciously. Harold sat down immediately, refusing to move on principle. Dot blinked up at me, hopeful as always.
“Rescue me from what?” I asked.
“From yourself,” Grandma said cheerfully. “I know that look. You’re stressing. That’s never good. We’re going for our walk, and you’re going to chill out.”
The pugs chose that moment to begin arguing—snorting, huffing, attempting to head in three different directions at once. I laughed despite myself and grabbed my jacket from the hook by the counter.
“Okay. But only if I get to walk Dot.”
“Of course you can,” Grandma said, handing me the leash. “She’s the emotional support pug. You need her more than me today.”
Outside, the late morning sun had warmed the sidewalk, and we set off at a pace dictated entirely by how often the pugs wanted to stop and investigate absolutely nothing. Grandma narrated their progress without being asked.
“Mildred believes in lingering,” she said as one pug planted herself firmly in place. “Harold is dramatic. Dot is just here for vibes.”
“It’s good some things never change,” I said.
We made it half a block before she glanced sideways at me. “So. Are you dating anyone new? A little birdy told me about where you were last weekend.”
I groaned softly. “Can we not?”
“Oh, we can,” she said brightly. “We simply haven’t yet today.”
I sighed. “So yeah, I had a date. For the record, was the bird named Eliza?”
“Yes. But don’t get mad at her. I had to drag it out of her. Was he tall? Handsome? Emotionally available? She wouldn’t give me any details.”
“He was fine,” I said. “Nice. We didn’t click.”
“I see.” She nodded sagely. “Did you ghost him?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t ghost him. That’s rude.”
“Did you soft-ghost him?” she asked. “Or is it called haunt? The children are always haunting each other nowadays.”
I laughed. “No haunting. No ghosting. I let him down nicely. We went to school together, Grandma. I’ve known him forever.”
She hummed thoughtfully as the pugs paused again, all three noses down. “Some people don’t hear ‘no’ the way you say it.”
“He seemed fine with it,” I said.
Grandma studied me for a moment, then smiled. “You’ve always been kind. Sometimes a little too kind. That’s not a flaw—it just means I have to keep an eye on you and be ready to kick some ass.”
We walked in comfortable silence for half a block while Dot investigated a crack in the sidewalk with scientific dedication.
“Can I say something else?” Grandma asked in the tone that meant she was going to, regardless.
“You always do.”
“You spend all day making sure everyone finds what they need.” She glanced sideways at me, eyes shining in the morning light. “Books, recommendations, that little tea corner, the book club. You take care of this whole town in your own sweet way, baby girl. When’s the last time you let someone do that for you? How are you, really?”
I opened my mouth.
“And ‘I’m fine’ doesn’t count,” she added. “You need more out of life. Not just saying yes to a date with someone who’s been pestering you for years.”
“What? Eliza doesn’t know Eric.” I closed my mouth. I should have known. She rarely asked questions unless she already knew everything.
“No.” She grinned. “But Lucy does.” Grandma nodded, satisfied, and let Harold drag her toward a lamppost. She didn’t push after that. She never had to. She just planted things and letthem grow. “You should know I know everything and I’m here when you need me.”
