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“That’s a fine gentleman you’ve got there, Peter,” Enola praises him, and me.
“That he is,” Grandpa agrees.
“—and we realized neither of you will leave here without the other.” They nod, silently confirming we’re right. “He suggested,” she continues, their attention focused entirely on her, which is when I add that I was joking, sort of, and she includes that to her story, “that the four of us live together.”
I’m not sure what reactions Hannah or myself expected, but it certainly wasn’t the ones we got. “Splendid plan,” Enola praises me.
“You always could find a good way to solve a problem,” Grandpa proudly says. “I’ll begin packing straight away,” he tacks on for good measure.
“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Hannah tries, and fails, to halt their planning.
“Why not? We’re each renting.” This is true. Grandpa did tell me the beauty of this place was they allowed for month to month agreements, at least in the early stages of living here. That way if the tenant decides it isn’t for them, there’s less of a hassle involved to remedy it.
“Does your new place have room for all of us?” Enola asks her granddaughter.
“Not really,” she says, as if disappointed she has to give that answer. The excitement in the room begins to fade. We’re down, but not out. There are other options. “Oh wait. The house I was initially looking at does. I think it’s still available. It’s just a block from where I am now.”
“Would you be allowed to change like that?”
She thinks about it. “I believe so. The agent knew I really wanted that place but it didn’t make sense to take it if I couldn’t convince grandma to live with me. It was too much space for one person.”
“Can you call the realtor and check?” I inquire, not wanting to get ahead of ourselves. The way we’re talking, we’ve already sealed the deal and should submit our change of address forms. “What about you, Mrs. Champion? You’ve been here longer, correct?”
She nods. “Call me Enola. My lease is almost up. That’s why Hannah has been trying to get me to move in with her.”
“It’s like it was meant to be,” Grandpa says, echoing my internal thought. Everyone remains quiet after that, as if we’re absorbing, and agreeing, with the sentiment. A beat passes before Hannah stands and excuses herself.
“I’ll call her and see if this is even possible.”
Enola reaches out and pats her hand. “It will be,” she says with the utmost confidence. As if the universe, or perhaps fate, wouldn’t dare disappoint her.
As she’s about to step out, I hear her greet the woman. “Hi, Stacy. It’s Hannah. How are you?” Her voice becomes muted as she gets further away, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to eavesdrop.
This is an important call for numerous reasons, and they don’t all include my grandpa. A fact that should make me feel guilty. Should.
Conversation continues, a bit subdued between the grands as if they know I’m listening for clues as to how it’s going, and approve of my tactics.
When Hannah returns approximately ten minutes later – yes, I counted – with a big grin, relief sweeps through me, almost causing me to collapse against my chair.
“We’re a go,” she informs us a little breathlessly, making me wonder if she did some kind of victory dance prior to coming in.
“Told you,” Enola states with what can only be described as smugness. Hannah sticks her tongue out at her grandma, making the older woman cackle with glee. “There’s my girl.”
Mine, too, I’m starting to realize.
