Chapter 19: Grandma Hartwell

Rafe's mother lived in a stone house in Lake Forest with a dining room that seated twenty.

She had set the table for seven.

She had put the children's places at one corner, so that no one sat more than an arm from anyone.

My mother brought a casserole. Rafe's mother looked at it, and then at my mother, and said, "That smells wonderful."

"It's tuna," my mother said.

"I'm told it's the best in Evanston."

"Who told you that?"

"Your grandson Teddy. He was very firm about it."

My mother's mouth twitched, and she sat.

The children behaved like angels for the first twenty minutes, which frightened me.

Then Rory asked, "Why is your house so big?" and Teddy asked, "Do you have a basement?" and Ivy asked, "Are you our grandma, or are you Rafe's mom?"

"Both," said Rafe's mother. "At the same time. It's a lot of work."

"What should we call you?"

She put down her fork.

"What would you like to call me?"

Ivy considered it.

"Grandma Hartwell," she said. "Because Grandma is taken."

"Grandma is taken," my mother agreed, and ate a mouthful of casserole with great dignity.

I saw Rafe's mother's eyes shine, and she looked down at her plate.

After dessert, which was a coffee cake that Rory ate in three bites, Rafe's mother asked me to come into her study.

It was a small room with a desk and a lamp, and the portrait of a man I took to be Rafe's father.

She handed me a cream folder.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

Inside was a legal document, forty pages, with tabs.

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