Chapter 33
The day I was to leave, I attempted pancakes. It was my final morning in Historic Woodfield, after all.
“I made breakfast,” I said when Lisa and Callie joined me in the kitchen.
“Pancakes?” Callie guessed as Lisa checked what was on the stove.
“You made pancakes. You never made pancakes when I was a kid,” Lisa said. Then she beheld my scrambled flapjacks. “Wow, Mom. What a mess.”
“They’re not a mess. They’re supposed to be that way,” Callie explained.
Lisa looked at both of us as though we were out of our minds and might never return.
“They’re very big in Florida,” Callie explained as she winked at me.
Lisa gave us the side-eye. “Oh, yes, I forgot. I think they were served first in Miami Beach at the Eden Roc hotel in the sixties and soon became the rage. A brass plaque in the dining room marks the occasion.”
I smiled as Lisa scooped up some pancakes for Callie.
“Mom, you have to try some,” Callie said.
Lisa placed a dot of pancake on the smallest plate she could find. “Do you do crepes scrambled as well?”
“Yes,” I said. “The only things I don’t scramble are eggs.”
“I can’t remember, Mom. Are scrambled pancakes served with maple syrup or ...”
“With syrup. Now that grandma got us some,” Callie said.
Di called from Arlo’s house. She wanted to see me before I left Woodfield. I suggested the three nanas have lunch before my flight, my treat. She recommended the Inn at Three Corners, where I had gathered with my two friends from the health club. Three Corners was a convenient choice, as it was en route to the airport. I texted Annie.
When I was ready to shove off, Lisa carried my suitcase to the first floor. “Mom,” she said, “I understand why you are leaving. I would do the same.”
I think I knew that. In fact, Lisa had become my role model for taking care of myself.
“I want you to know something,” she said.
“I’d love to know something.”
“I named my restaurant after you.”
“Me?”
As she nodded, her eyes glistened. “Your father was a farmer. You lived on a farm. You are the farmer’s daughter.”
I had never thought of myself as the farmer’s daughter. When I was eight, the same age as Callie, we moved to the suburbs, the part of growing up I reminisced about the most, but I sure loved to hear she’d named the restaurant after me.
I dabbed at one tear, then another. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
She kissed my cheek.
I held her. “Lisa, I have an opportunity for you.”
“For me?” she said, surprised.
“Come to Florida more often, stay much longer. Bring Callie and the new baby. Leave the kids with me if you want, and take a vacation.”
“Will loves Florida.”
What was there to do? She was a woman in love.
As Lisa and I spoke by my car, Callie darted out of the house. “Grandma, we have a present for you.”
She handed me a wrapped package, colorful, flat, and flimsy.
“Open it,” they both said.
I was tickled to see a T-shirt. Above a heart, I read the words “I love Grandma.”
“What a fabulous gift. What I always wanted,” I said as I held it, kissed Callie, then Lisa.
“I told you we had to get her one,” Callie said to her mom.
“Yes, it’s something she would never buy for herself.”
Callie jumped up. “Three-way hug,” she shouted.
We hung on to each other, enjoying the warmth of family.
“Have a great lunch,” Lisa said. “If it wasn’t for Callie’s chess tournament, we’d join you.”
“Good luck, Callie. Remember whatever Pop taught you, and let us know how you do.”
“I’m going to crush it, but I will give my opponents a choice.”
“Lose slow or lose fast,” we all said together.
“I’ll miss you,” I said as I took in my daughter.
“And the other grandmas? Your competition?” she asked.
“Yes, I will definitely miss the competition,” I said wistfully, seriously. In a short time, we had gone from being suspicious and envious of each other to three very different women who understood one another. I knew now that Annie and Di each brought something unique to Callie’s life. In Annie, she found a constant presence, warmth beyond measure, friendship. Di taught her the importance of self-reliance, pressing on. And, if Callie ever wanted to be in the real estate business, she had the whole act down.
“What about me?” Callie said. “How much will you miss me?”
“Hmm. Hmm. I need to think about that,” I teased, looking skyward to the right and to the left.
“Come on, Grandma, say it ...”
“Yes, say it,” Lisa said.
“Who loves you best.”
I reviewed all that had transpired. Only a smidgen of it was what I had expected or signed up for when I agreed to watch Macallan, but I had surfaced at a good moment for Lisa. She’d given me the opportunity because she was in transition, and she wanted her mommy close as the trees in her leaf-covered yard. Even eons after my mother’s death, I wished she would somehow reappear. I’d see a mother and a daughter at the mall, on the beach, in a restaurant, and I’d wonder if they knew enough to cherish the moments they still had. I’d gaze at the heavens, trusting my mom was there, somewhere, looking over me. It provided peace of mind for Lisa to carry out her plan—with her mommy in town, in her house, caring for her child. There were plenty of grannies in Woodfield—but Lisa understood she had one mother. Now I understood it as well. What’s more, Lisa had reached out to her father about building the inn because she wanted to help him, needed him to be present in her world. Independent as she was, we gave her strength. Through our love.
Was I a second-rate mom because I was going home? What had I learned? My time was now. I didn’t want to live life through my kids, greeted with cursory nods from others as Macallan’s nana or Lisa’s mom.
Jake and I would do better. We’d visit more often, become more involved. Use Jake’s points for Callie as soon as she was old enough to fly to visit us on her own.
I had a big life I enjoyed—in Florida. I pined for my friends, my practice, my patients. No longer did I assume I could land on Lisa’s planet and live among her natives. I wanted, deserved, a life of my own. I believe you are never done raising your children, but a day arrives when you must raise yourself.