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I laughed at our inside joke. “I’m your only granddaughter, so I better be your favorite.”
“Well, I do have three adopted granddaughters.” She shrugged with a mischievous laugh. “I guess you never really know, do you?”
Jenny, Lauren, and Audrey were considered family. My grandparents had seen us through every stage of our lives—middle school and high school, dances, college, and boyfriends. They had witnessed us fight and had helped us to make up when we were too stubborn to admit our faults or apologize on our own. My grandparents were everything to me: mom, dad, friend, confidant, supporter, encourager, and, well, just everything. I couldn’t imagine my life without them. And while there remained a hole in my heart from never really knowing my parents, they had done their best to make sure I felt every bit of the love that a child should.
I nudged her playfully. “You’re a riot, Grandmother.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t try to age me with that heinous word.Grandmother!” She shuddered.
“Only because I know how much it bothers you.”
“Smartass.”
“You’re smarter,” I jabbed playfully.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I notice you’re in a cheerful mood too, young lady.”
“Must be the gorgeous day and being with my favorite grandma,” I copied her.
“Hmm,” she wondered aloud and removed her glasses. She took a step closer so she was inches from me and looked me directly in the eyes. “You sure it doesn’t have to do with a man?”
“No,” I said, turning away, fiddling with a stem.
“Mm-hmm. I think you’re full of shit, Siena Giuliana Moretti.”
“And what man would I be swooning over, Grams?” I didn’t dare look at her.
“Gee, I just don’t know.”
I couldn’t help it. I turned back toward her.
She tapped her finger on her chin. “Hmm . . . Maybe, Michael?” She grinned cunningly as she stepped around me to inspect another vine. She waited a few seconds, then turned back to register my reaction.
“No, Grams,” I replied, trying to keep her at bay. “Michael is just our neighbor. The only interest I have in him is in regard to business.”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled. I knew this tactic: a lioness stalking her prey.
“What?”
She remained silent, inspecting the vines, not looking up. I wasn’t going to let her beat me at her own damn game. She was the master of holding out until her prey finally gave in, giving her what she wanted. She always won silly arguments like this with us. She was a frustrating woman. But I would not cave. I would not!
I sighed, moving around her and down the row, leaving several feet between us. I would not let her words get to me.
She was humming to herself, a sweet sound breaking the silence. It was calming, soothing. A gentle tune I had heard countless times over the years.
“So,” she began as we arrived at the end of the row and turned down to the next set of vines, “did he call you?”
“Who?” I pretended like I’d forgotten what we’d been talking about.
“You know who. Michael. Did he call you?”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Michael hadn’tcalled. He’d texted, but I wasn’t giving her free information. “Why would he call me?”
“He said he was going to.”
I rounded on her, narrowed eyes, pointing my finger. “Ah-ha! What are you up to, woman?” I wanted to laugh, knowing she most certainly had something to do with him contacting me.
“Nothing.” She waited a beat for me to say something. When I didn’t, she asked, “But, really, he didn’t call you?” She sounded so dejected and confused.
