Chapter 8 - Alone With Grandma
The chairs scraped back all at once when Grandma stood. She didn't raise her voice. She just set her napkin down beside her plate and looked toward the living room.
"Give us a minute," she said.
Nobody argued with her. The men in suits picked up their water glasses and drifted out. Two of the women followed. My aunt — the blonde woman in the white one-shoulder dress — hesitated in the doorway. Her gold necklace caught the chandelier light when she turned.
"Ma," she said. "You don't need to—"
"I said a minute," Grandma said.
She waited until the footsteps faded on the wood floor. The dining room felt too big then, the long table between us with all the untouched glassware. The pink tablet was still propped on the hutch behind me, its little light steady. I kept my hands at my sides so I wouldn't fidget.
Grandma nodded toward the far end of the room, by the sheer curtains. Daylight came through them bright and washed out, making dust visible in the air.
"Come here," she said. "Stand with me where it's quiet."
I followed her. The curtain brushed my sleeve. Outside I could hear a car go by, then nothing. She folded her hands over the front of her blue jacket and looked at me straight.
"What time did you get here this morning?" she asked.
I swallowed. "A little after ten. I parked on the side and came in through the kitchen. The door was open."
"Who let you in?"
"No one. It was unlocked. I called out, but the caterer was the only one here. I didn't want to bother anyone upstairs."
She nodded once, filing it. "And the tablet?"
I glanced back at the hutch. It felt strange to talk about it with it sitting right there recording us.
"I brought it from my apartment," I said. "I set it up on the hutch around ten fifteen. I wanted to practice where there was room."
"Practice what?"
"My dance." My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "For after lunch. You said last month if I wanted to share something, I could. I wanted it to be good."
Grandma studied my face. Her gray bun was neat, a few loose strands lit white by the window. Her expression wasn't soft, but it wasn't the shocked stare from earlier either.
"Why didn't you tell anyone you were filming?" she asked.
I felt heat climb up my neck. "I was embarrassed. Everybody was going to be dressed up. I thought if I messed up, I'd just delete it. I didn't think anyone would notice it up there with the plates."
She was quiet for a long moment. The curtain moved a little with the vent air. I could hear low voices from the living room, then a glass set down.
I looked down at my beige dress and smoothed it over my knees even though there was nothing there. "I'm scared," I said. "I know how it looks. Her bag on the table and me standing here. I just wanted to impress you."
I hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. Grandma's eyes shifted, just a flicker, to my hands and back up.
"You let her go through your things in front of everyone," she said. "That took guts."
"I didn't steal anything."
"I didn't say you did," she said quickly. "I'm saying what I saw."
My throat tightened. I nodded because I didn't trust myself to answer.
Grandma glanced toward the doorway to make sure we were still alone, then back at me. She lowered her voice a notch.
"Listen to me. I'm going to watch that video. All of it. With both of you in the room. No edits, no missing pieces."
"Okay," I said.
"I'm not promising what it will show," she said. "And I'm not taking sides before I see it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She reached out then and touched my forearm, just briefly. Her hand was cool and dry. It wasn't a hug. It was steadier than that.
"Stay in this house," she said. "Don't go home early. We'll finish this today."
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From the living room, someone laughed, a short nervous sound that stopped fast. Grandma dropped her hand and straightened her jacket.
"Come on," she said. "Walk back in with me."
