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“You say you have nothing? You have Morgan Nash Albright, damn it, and don’t ever forget it. And this is not your grandmother’s house, this is the Kennedy-Nash family home. I’m giving your grandfather first billing on it.
“Now, you can take as much time as you need to wallow, to sleep late, to rage, to curse whichever deity works best for you. You were victimized, and for a strong, smart woman—and you’re both—that’s devastating as much as it’s a pure pisser. When you’re finished, you’ll figure out what to do next.”
“Itisa pisser. It is a pure pisser. Why hasn’t anyone said just that before now?”
“Because no one else is your gram. Haven’t you said it yourself?”
“I felt guilty when I even thought it.” But she didn’t now, she realized, because Gram had said it first. “Everyone felt sorry for me, but—”
“Nobody got pissed for you—or showed it. Trust me, I’m plenty pissed for you. So’s your mother, in her more delicate way. I’d like to kick that bastard’s balls blue before I twist his dick off at the root.”
With a shrug, Olivia drank more coffee. “But that’s just not-so-delicate me.”
“I can’t say exactly why,” Morgan said after a moment, “but that really helps.”
“Good.”
“I have to get a job.”
“There’s no ‘have to’ right now. Sit down, I’m making you an omelet.”
“Gram—”
“Nobody turns down one of my omelets.” Olivia rose. “Now sit. I’m going to ask you for a favor.”
“What?”
“Take two weeks. Sleep, eat, read, watch movies, take walks, build a snowman, whatever.” She got out eggs, cheese, fresh spinach. “The stress of this past year shows, baby of my baby. It shows.”
Hard to argue that, Morgan thought as she sat. She saw it every time she looked in the mirror.
“You take some time. If you need something practical to do, fine. Come into the shop and we’ll put you to work a few hours a week. Otherwise, it’s time to catch up with yourself.”
“I need to earn a living.”
“You do, of course, and you will. Two weeks out of your life won’t change that. And your mother and I want some time with you. I think—and again, when am I wrong?—you need time with us.”
Morgan said nothing as Olivia whisked eggs in a bowl while a skillet heated on the stove.
“I feel like such a failure, Gram.”
“You’ll get over that, because you’re not and never have been. You had your world fall away from under you. I know what that’s like. I had mine fall away.”
“When Pa died.”
“Then, but we had a lifetime together, and all those memories. I can pick one out, like chocolates from a box, and every one has its own flavor. But a long time ago. I lost a child.”
“What?” Morgan shot up straight. “When? I never heard—”
“Your mother was barely two, so she doesn’t remember. I never talked to her about it until after Steve died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Steve and I built this house, this big, wonderful house, and planned to fill it with children. We wanted at least four, and when Audrey came along, we were so happy. Our beautiful girl, our first child. It was all so easy, really. And then, right on schedule, we had another coming.”
She poured eggs in the skillet, added the cheese, the spinach. “I was eight months along. We were finishing the nursery, arguing over names, all the things you do. And something went wrong. Everything went wrong. I lost the baby and any chance to have another. A little boy. He never had a chance to take his first breath.”
“Oh, Gram.”
