“Go ahead.S. and put your things in the guest room.”
I hugged her.
She barely hugged me back.
But I pretended not to notice.
I carried my suitcase inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Not terrible.
Just stale.
Then I saw dishes crusted in the kitchen sink.
Laundry piled beside the stairs.
Toys everywhere.
Dust on the console table.
I told myself what mothers have told themselves about their children’s homes for generations:
They’re busy.
Don’t judge.
The children woke an hour later.
Lily ran into my arms.
“Grandma!”
Noah followed in dinosaur pajamas.
I nearly cried when he wrapped himself around my leg.
“Did you bring pancakes?”
“Good morning to you too.”
He grinned.
For the first day, I was happy.
I unpacked.
Made lunch.
Played on the floor.
Read two stories.
That evening, I cooked roast chicken because Jason loved it and I thought Melissa might enjoy leftovers.
She ate while scrolling through her phone.
“This is nice,” she said.
I smiled.
“I’m glad.”
Then she pointed toward the kitchen.
“The oven needs a good cleaning sometime while you’re here.”
I looked at her.
“Oh.”
“You know how ovens get.”
“Yes.”
I thought she was simply mentioning it.
The next morning, I discovered otherwise.
I woke early, as I always did.
By seven, I had coffee brewing.
Melissa came downstairs around eight-thirty.
She looked at the sink.
Then at me.
“Oh good, you’re up.”
I smiled.
“I thought I’d take the children to the park after breakfast.”
She frowned.
“The bathroom needs cleaning first.”
I paused.
“Excuse me?”
“The upstairs bathroom.”
She opened the refrigerator.
“And can you pack lunches?”
I stared at her.
“I thought maybe we could all go out.”
Melissa laughed.
“They can wait.”
Then came the sentence I would remember long after everything else.
“Don’t be a lazy grandma, Margaret. There’s real work to do around here.”
I felt my face heat.
For a second, I considered answering.
Then I heard Lily laughing upstairs.
I swallowed my pride.
“Of course.”
So I cleaned the bathroom.
Then packed lunches.
Then wiped the kitchen cabinets.
