Page 29 of Not My Problem

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “There’s sandwich stuff.”

“I’ll just have a yogurt and some coffee,” she said, yawning widely. “I’m not super hungry yet, and I don’t want to ruin my appetite for dinner.”

We worked together on the jigsaw puzzle, which had become our thing, finally finishing it.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

I frowned. “Take it apart and put it in the box.”

She looked horrified. “No way, we need to frame this. We worked hard on it and it’s pretty.”

I studied the completed puzzle. “Sure, we can do that,” I said, wondering why I’d never thought of it.

We ordered Thai food for dinner, walking together to pick it up from a place in the neighborhood. It was a beautiful warm night, and we sat outside on the back deck eating our food, sharing a bottle of wine, and staring out at the yard.

When we went to bed that night we made love like it was our last time – both of us moving slowly as if we wanted to remember how we felt. We were quiet afterward, snuggling close without saying anything, and somehow that said it all.

Zoe

Iwas on pins and needles all day Sunday waiting for my grandmother to get home. She’d seemed nice enough on the phone, but kind of reserved. Of course the first time I spoke with her she assumed I was a scammer. The second time she had all the evidence showing who I really was, but she’d still been pretty neutral with me. Not that I expected her to be bubbly and effusive on the phone, but I had thought she’d be more excited to learn about me. I wasn’t sure if it was because of what happened with my mother, or if she was just waiting to see how things worked out.

She’d invited me to come see her, so I guessed that meant she really did want to meet me. When she found out I was in Seattle, she’d offered to come home early from Europe. I’d told her to finish her trip, that I’d see her when she got back, but now that the time was approaching, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

“What time is my grandmother due back?” I asked Gretchen as I paced back and forth in the dining room.

She looked up from her computer with a smirk. “Four o’clock, assuming that her flight’s on time and traffic isn’t awful.”

“How will we know when she’s here?”

“Oh we’ll know, believe me. Your grandmother likes to make an entrance.”

The doorbell rang just before four-thirty. I was sorting socks from the laundry and I damn near jumped out of my skin at the sound even though I was expecting it.

“That’ll be Jan.”

Gretchen went to the door, but I was frozen in place, remembering how excited I’d been to find my father, only to realize why my mother had told me he was dead. I was pretty sure my grandmother wasn’t a psycho – Gretchen wouldn’t be friends with her if she was – but I also knew that sometimes people presented very different personalities when no one else was watching them.

“Where is she?”

I stood up as a woman came barreling through the door looking for me. My grandmother was petite, short and thin, but there was nothing frail about her. She was wearing a pair of blindingly white Nikes and a purple tracksuit, the jacket open to reveal a white tee shirt that read Italians Do It for Pasta. Despite the fact that she’d just got off an international flight she was bristling with energy.

She rushed over then stopped about two feet away from me, taking me in, her eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You’re the spitting image of your mother. I’d know you anywhere.”

Then, to my surprise, she pulled me into a tight hug. I stood stiffly in her embrace for a few seconds before my body relaxed against her.

“Welcome home,” my grandmother whispered.

To my surprise, tears pricked against my eyes for the first time since I was a little girl. I blinked them back and hugged my grandmother even tighter.

“Thank you Gretchen for watching my house and entertaining my granddaughter.”

I swear Gretchen blushed at that. “No problem.”

“Should we go home?” my grandmother suggested.

My eyes went to Gretchen, who gave me an encouraging smile.