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"I'll pack some for your father too. I'm going for visiting hours tomorrow, and who knows what they're feeding him in there?"
I chewed my pancakes and didn't point out that for the money that place cost, they probably had a five-star chef.
"Dad's been there barely twenty-four hours," I said instead. "Don't you maybe want to wait a little bit? Let him get settled?"
Bubbe scoffed. "Please. What kind of mother would I be if I didn't make sure my son was all right?"
"Um, the kind who doesn't smother her forty-five-year-old son?"
In response, I got the kind of dirty look only my grandmother could provide. So I shoved another large bite of pancake in my mouth and stopped talking.
"So, I assume the iciness between you and Brandon isn't just about your accident," Bubbe remarked while she wiped down the countertop.
I set my fork down on my plate and swallowed. "Yes. "
"And from the way he's looking at you, I assume you're not the one who broke the news to him. Jane told us your mother tried to blackmail you, but not whether she succeeded."
I sighed. "She...well, no, it was Maurice, I think. One of them basically sold the information to Brandon's ex-wife, and she was the one who told him, just before he announced his run for office."
Bubbe clicked her tongue and shook her head while she turned off the stove and started cleaning up the counters. "So, his pride's been damaged, as well as his trust. That's quite the mess you made there, bubbela."
"Yes," I agreed as I stirred my tea. "I honestly don't know if he's going to forgive me for it."
Bubbe huffed. "Of course he will. Why else would you be here, with all of your things moved in? Why would any of us be here right now?"
I looked up. "Because he feels guilty about his role in the accident. He knows that if Messina hadn't clued in on our connection to Brandon, I wouldn't have been kidnapped. Brandon likes control. And he's too nice to just abandon us, even if he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore."
Bubbe tipped her head from side to side, as if weighing the possibilities.
"Perhaps," she said. "But then why aren't you staying with me, not up here?" She turned back to the counter, talking while she worked. "You know, in my day, a girl in your situation...well, let's just say I know more than one girl who would have gone to that clinic if she could have."
She paused, lost for a moment in some distant memory. Then she looked at me, her wise eyes suddenly full of passion.
"I'm not saying you did or did not do the right thing, bubbela. But a baby...is women's work, whether we want it to be or not. We give up so much of ourselves, especially in those first few years. More than any man will ever know. Brandon can be angry all he wants, but he will never truly understand what he would have asked you to give up in order to keep that child, whether he was in the picture or not. And when I think of it, of all you've given in your life to get where you are..." She trailed off, clicking her tongue loudly. "It would have been a shame. We would have loved that child, but it would have been a shame, nonetheless, to see you become a shadow of yourself when you are on the cusp of such wonderful things."
I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I said nothing. It was, at least, nice to know that Bubbe didn't hate my decision. I knew she hankered for great-grandchildren and was dying to see me get married, so it was a bit surprising to hear her voice this particular opinion.
I gulped, and she turned away to finish cleaning up. Then she packed up her apron and grabbed for her keys. I cocked my head curiously.
"Bubbe," I said as she walked around to give me a kiss good bye. "Where are you going in such a hurry? You don't know anyone in Boston."
In return, I got another scoff. "Bubbela, do you think I've spent seventy-two years on this earth and not learned how to make friends?"
I bit my lip. "Sorry. So where are you headed?"
Bubbe grinned. "What, you think we're the only Jews in Boston? There's a temple around the corner. They have a mah jongg group too."
With a quick kiss to my brow, she popped her purse over her shoulder and headed toward the elevator.
"You think about what you're going to say," she said. "And come up with something good. You and Brandon are too good for each other to lose what you have."
~
So I did think. I thought for most of the day while I flipped through the TV and bored myself watching the news and HBO. I thought while I emailed Kieran requesting case files to work from home this week instead of waiting until the next (she refused). I thought while Bubbe returned with a casserole for dinner, and I thought while we ate it together at the breakfast counter, and I thought afterward, when she went back to her apartment on the fourteenth floor and I was alone again in the penthouse.
I thought while I watched the sun fall below the other tall buildings of Boston, while I lay alone on the stiff couch until well past dusk. And I thought some more from my equally isolated bedroom until finally, I fell asleep.
~
