It was a masterpiece of plausible deniability.

If I had ever said, Gene, why won’t you call Holly your granddaughter, she would have widened her eyes and touched her chest and said she had no idea what I meant, that she adored Holly, that I was being terribly sensitive on a holiday, and every other adult in the room would have shifted uncomfortably and privately agreed that I was making a scene.

That was the trap, and she’d built it beautifully.

You cannot fight an insult that is never quite spoken.