Page 62 of Requiem

“Uhhh … your child’s grandmother?” she teases.

“Oh, her,” I reply sheepishly, tugging the zipper the last inch. Maggie shrugs the dress off her shoulders and it falls to the floor with an audible thump.

“So. Much. Better,” she murmurs, closing her eyes in relief. “Sorry, go on …”

“Um, no. No I haven’t. She was very kind, but she was obviously stunned. It’s hard to say what her true feelings on the subject are. Unless, of course, you’re able to provide me with some insight into that ...” I fish.

She steps out of the pool of fabric and turns to face me in nothing but her bra and panties.

“I know she was pissed at hell that Brett didn’t give her a heads-up on that little tidbit. He’s been in the doghouse with her since you guys got back from the tour.”

“It’s not his fault. He was respecting my wishes. There was just no way around it …she may be Brett’s mother, but she’s also Jeremy’s mother.”

She’s still talking to me as she makes her way to the bedroom. “I get that. But now that it’s out there I think you should consider the implications and how you want to proceed with her.”

“What implications …exactly?”

She hops out of the bedroom again wearing a Journey T-Shirt and trying to get her other leg into her jeans.

“Like …do you want her to be David’s grandmother? You know, to have that relationship with him? And how will you feel if she’s not comfortable with that? And, if you don’t want her to have a relationship with your son, how will you tell her?”

“Good questions,” I admit thoughtfully. “I hadn’t really considered them.”

“Julia, you’ve had enough Mama Drama to last you a lifetime. Trudy’s an amazing woman …and the total opposite of Jeremy. But she’s a tough cookie. And she’ll tell you exactly what’s on her mind.”

“So I noticed!” I snort loudly, recalling our catastrophic run-in backstage at the Walton Concert. “Well,” I sigh after a long moment, “I actually would like David to know his grandmother … especially since he already has a relationship with Brett. It’d be awkward to have one without the other … but I’m not going to force myself, or my son, onto her. She has an open invitation to get to know us a little better, and she’ll either take me up on it, or she won’t.”

“Fair enough,” Maggie agrees with a nod that makes her black curls bounce. “If you think this is bad,” she says, pointing to the discarded wedding dress, “wait till you see the lampshade my mother used as a headpiece!”