Not a glance back at Grandma.
And then they were gone, and the house was quiet, and the front door clicked shut.
“It’s a cake.”
I wanted to drive straight to the venue and drag that cake back by its ribbon. I had my keys in my hand.
“Please don’t,” Grandma said.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded, eyes wet. She looked devastated.
“It’s Daniel’s wedding, sweetheart. I don’t want a scene. Not today.”
“She laughed at you, Grandma.”
“Please don’t,”
“I know.” She gave a tiny shrug, the kind people give when they’re trying to make a hurt smaller. “Maybe I should have… I don’t know. Asked for it in writing. It’s my fault.”
“It is absolutely not your fault.”
I sat across from Grandma and took her hand.
She’d asked me not to spoil Daniel’s wedding, but I couldn’t leave her without money for her medication.
