Ruth had invited me over without asking me to pay for lunch.

The grandchildren had once run into my arms before they knew what a bank transfer was.

That evening I returned home to six new messages from Daniel and three from Claire.

The first two asked about the mortgage contribution.

The last from Claire said that decent grandmothers did not ruin Christmas over a bruised ego.

I saved the messages without responding.

Then I wrote two cards, one for Emma and one for Oliver.