Chapter 4
Naomi asked me the next morning whether I was divorcing her mother.
I was packing her lunch. The bread lay open on the counter, and I had just reached for the peanut butter.
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
She stood in the kitchen doorway with her schoolbag on one shoulder.
“Mom says you kicked her out because Grandma dropped a plate.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“Then what did?”
I set down the knife.
“Your mom and Grandma disagree about some papers Grandma signed. Grandma asked for help understanding them. Your mom is staying elsewhere while we sort it out.”
Naomi looked at the floor.
“Did Grandma really wash all the dishes?”
“Yes.”
“I offered to help. Mom told me to stay with the guests.”
I pulled out a chair for her.
“Did you see Grandma eat dinner?”
“No.” Her eyes filled. “I took her a piece of bread in the kitchen. She said she’d eat soon.”
“You tried to look after her,” I said.
“Why didn’t I tell you when you came home?”
“You were worried about what would happen.”
Naomi nodded.
I held her hand until she was ready to go to school. Then I finished her lunch and drove her there myself.
At work, I could barely concentrate. I supervised shipping schedules, and every delay felt bigger than it was. My manager, DeShawn, noticed me checking the same order twice.
“Go home after lunch,” he said. “I can cover.”
“I have work to finish.”
“You can finish it tomorrow.”
I told him enough to explain why I was distracted. He had met Mom at our holiday party and asked how she was.
“Angry,” I said. “She’s trying not to show it.”
“Maybe she needs room to be angry.”
I thought about the way everyone had been making decisions around her.
When I arrived home, Mom was in the backyard with a notebook. She had written down every visit Vanessa had made to her house over the past month. I sat beside her and asked if she wanted me to read it.
“After I finish,” she said.
She kept writing.
Later, Patricia called. The agent had sent her a copy of an email from Vanessa. In it, Vanessa said Mom was having trouble remembering conversations and that all decisions should go through her.
Mom took the phone.
“I have never asked her to speak for me,” she said.
Patricia assured her that the agent had stopped the listing process. She wanted Mom to know what had been said so she could address it in her report.
Mom hung up and closed the notebook.
“That’s why she kept asking me to repeat myself,” she said. “I thought she was checking that she heard me.”
I remembered Vanessa telling me Mom forgot little things. Once, Mom had misplaced her keys. Another time she had called Naomi by my sister’s name before correcting herself. Vanessa had treated each mistake like proof that Mom could no longer manage her home.
“I should have questioned it,” I said.
“I know my own mind,” Mom replied. “I need you to remember that too.”
“I will.”
We took her notes to Patricia that afternoon. Mom answered every question herself. I spoke only when Patricia asked me about what I had seen at dinner.
On the way back, Mom asked me to stop at the hardware store. She wanted to look at porch boards.
“We can wait until things settle,” I said.
“I’ve waited six years to fix those steps.”
We went inside. She compared boards, asked an employee about weather protection, and wrote down the names of two local builders. I carried the samples to the car.
She seemed taller when we got home.
That night, Vanessa called Naomi. I gave my daughter privacy in the living room and stayed in the kitchen. Naomi’s voice rose after a few minutes.
“Grandma told me she isn’t selling,” she said. “I asked her.”
She listened, then looked toward me.
“I don’t want to choose sides. I want you to tell me what happened.”
The call ended soon after.
Naomi came into the kitchen shaking.
“Mom says Grandma is confused and you’re using that to hurt her.”
I moved a chair beside mine.
“Grandma spoke with her lawyer and her bank. She knows what she signed and what she wants.”
“Mom says she’ll prove she was right.”
“I don’t know what she’ll say next. You can ask me questions whenever you need to.”
Naomi pressed her palms to her eyes.
“I love Mom.”
“I know. You can love her.”
“And Grandma.”
“She knows that.”
Mom appeared at the doorway. She had heard enough to understand. She held out her arms, and Naomi went to her.
I watched them hold each other.
May you like
My phone rang. It was Elise, one of the women who had been at dinner.
“I should have called sooner,” she said. “I heard Vanessa tell Ruth something before you came home.”
