Chapter 8 — Paying Attention

Grandma lived another three years. They were peaceful ones. We kept our Thursday lunches, though now she chose restaurants with white tablecloths and always ordered dessert before the main course.

Sometimes she talked about Grandpa. Sometimes about business. Sometimes she admitted how frightened she’d been when her own children began treating her like an obstacle between them and their inheritance.

“I kept wondering,” she told me once, “whether I’d raised them badly.”

“What did you decide?”

She watched the snow fall past the window. “I decided adults are responsible for who they become.”

There was one question I never asked her, across three years of Thursdays.