Chapter 4
That evening, Macallan reached out via FaceTime.
“Jake, it’s Macallan,” I shouted, knowing she would cheer him up.
“No kidding! Terrific,” he bellowed, joining me at the kitchen table. I adjusted the screen so Macallan could see both of us clearly.
“Hi, Grandma Jo. Hi, Pop.”
I took in her alert brown eyes, long dark lashes, curly brown hair streaked with natural gold. From the moment I saw her, as a newborn, I thought she resembled Lisa—and me.
“Callie!” Jake called out her nickname. “I’ll be there soon!”
“You’re coming to visit?” she asked. “I’m the last to know everything.”
I remembered thinking that myself—back when Lisa had announced her engagement to Brian. Jake lost his mind because Brian wasn’t Jewish. Jake, who had been brought up in a more religious household than I and still went to synagogue many Saturdays, had held out hope Lisa would marry a Jewish man. Our tradition meant a lot to both of us.
Jake turned to me. His countenance had lifted. Macallan was the antidote. I castigated myself. I was selfish, a brat for wanting to go to the Berkshires without him.
“I got a new chess set. Pop, do you want to lose slow or fast?”
Jake had taught our granddaughter the game; he had been a collegiate chess champion, and he continually allowed her to win. In her generation, everyone got a trophy.
Suddenly, Macallan vanished from the screen. Instead of her face, I saw the motionless fan on the ceiling of her room, a queen-size bed, and wide white ruffled curtains on the windows. The room was as New England as a cup of creamy clam chowder in an old ceramic bowl served on Cape Cod.
“I can’t see your face,” I said.
“I’m giving you a tour of my room before we paint it. I can pick any color I like. Problem is, I like the color it is now. Unicorn Pink. Do you think there’s Unicorn Blue or maybe Unicorn Yellow?”
“Most definitely,” I said. “Where’s Mom?”
“Where else? At work. In the restaurant.”
“Are you there alone?” She was eight, too young to stay home by herself. No matter what Lisa thought. Okay, so I was a worrywart. But I deserved some credit for not telling Lisa how I felt.
“No, Di is here.”
I was Grandma. Brian’s mother, Diandra, was Di. Lisa said Di refused to be referred to as any derivative of grandmother, which to me was akin to turning down knighthood in the Middle Ages. Di didn’t want anyone to know how old she was; she squirmed at the mention of her birth date (January 24) or age (seventy).
“Di’s talking to the plumber. He’s under the sink now. She’s handing him a tool. I think he’s her boyfriend. It’s either him or the principal. Or maybe Arlo. From the country store. It’s hard to tell.”
Still flirting at seventy. I admired that. The last time I flirted, Reagan was in office.
“I’ve got to go,” Macallan said.
“We love you,” Jake and I said in unison as she vanished.
“She’s wonderful,” I said.
“Any wine?” Jake asked. He knew there was. He wanted me to get it. Did the man not have two legs? He did. I could see them where the robe ended.
I searched the fridge, wondering what to make for dinner. “What do you want to eat tonight?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Did you eat already?”
“I haven’t had a thing all day,” he said.
“I’ll make pasta.” I found a large pot, filled it with water.
Jake came over, checked on the pot.
Out of nowhere, he announced, “We should be in the Berkshires with Lisa and Macallan.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I turned to face him, quizzically.
“I want to move.”
To heck with the ziti. He was off his rocker. I had relocated to Florida for him, made a life, bought a practice, met great friends, and wore sunblock. I was not budging—not until we couldn’t live on our own, without help, any longer. I was too young to hole up near Lisa.
“I have Butt Road,” I said sternly.
“One word: Slivovitz. Isn’t that why you brought him on?”
“Yes, but even if he buys the practice, I’ll have to stay awhile. You know how it is. That’s the only way to retain patients during a buyout. When did you start thinking we should move?” I asked as though I didn’t know it was seconds after he’d read the cold, heartless email announcing he was fired.
“It’s been on my mind.”
It hadn’t been on his mind. He was using it as his out. I took it slow. “Jake, you began at rock bottom, climbed to the top of Wake-Up America. You’ve had a long, incredible career. You were offered retirement. You said no. It’s terrible this happened, but take your time, look around, pivot, as the kids say, and maybe you’ll find something new.”
“It would be new to be near Lisa. Michael lives too far away. Alex is out because of the Pilgrim.”
“Jake, you know how Lisa is. She’s independent. She may decide to sell the restaurant, leave the Berkshires, go who knows where. Then what? Are we following her? Do you want her to pack us in her luggage?”
“She’s not selling the restaurant,” he insisted.
“How do you know? You didn’t even know she’d go to culinary school.”
“Totally different. I know plenty.”
“You certainly don’t know I asked her if she needed birth control pills in ninth grade.”
“What?”
“Forget it. She already had a prescription.”
“Can you mull it over?” Jake said.
“No. I don’t want to interfere with Lisa’s life.”
“We wouldn’t be interfering. We’d live in the area but in a different town. What’s more, we’d be smart. We wouldn’t drop in every two minutes unannounced, like some parents.”
I thought about my fussbudget mother-in-law, Eileen, who brought unsolicited dinners, arrived before I returned from work, insisted on watching cable news while we ate, and lingered way past dessert. What’s more, Eileen was a pathetic cook. My children renamed her apple blintzes : blisters . All in all, she had good intentions, but she didn’t know when it was time to leave.
“You’re thinking of my mother,” Jake said.
“May she rest in peace.”
“I miss her blisters. They’re probably what killed her.”
“May her memory be for a blessing.”
“We won’t be like my mother. We’ll have our own lives. We’ll be active. We’ll join a synagogue. I don’t expect Lisa to go to services, but we’d take Macallan, and she’d make friends. Probably ask if she can be a bat mitzvah . You do know, Jodi, influencing is not interfering. There are things we desire for our granddaughter that only we can provide. Think about it, please,” he said in his sweetest voice. The last time he spoke to me in that tone, he asked me to marry him.
I tapped his nose. “Good try. Not happening.”