Chapter 3 - GRANDMA HAD NEVER AGREED TO SELL THE WATCH
“Don't let anyone touch that watch!”
I said the words so sharply that Sam jumped.
I immediately lowered my voice.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
Then I turned back to my phone.
“Leah, please put Grandma Ruth on.”
“Jill, your mother has been telling everyone—”
“I don't care what Mom's been telling people. I need to speak to Grandma.”
Leah hesitated.
Then I heard footsteps, muffled conversation, and Grandma Ruth's familiar voice.
“Is that my Jill?”
My throat tightened.
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Oh, honey. Where are you?”
“At a hotel with the kids.”
“Are they having fun?”
I looked at Nora and Sam.
“They're trying.”
Grandma was silent for a moment.
Then she asked, “Why aren't they here?”
Those five words told me something important.
My grandmother hadn't known.
“Mom asked me not to bring them.”
“What?”
“She said Vanessa's children would be uncomfortable.”
Grandma's voice hardened.
“Uncomfortable with what? Nora's manners? Sam's little dinosaur jokes?”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Grandma adored Sam's terrible dinosaur jokes.
“That's what I'm trying to understand.”
“Well, somebody had better explain it to me.”
I took a breath.
“Grandma, did you give Mom permission to auction Grandpa's watch?”
The silence that followed was different.
Heavy.
Confused.
“His watch?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
I closed my eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Jill Harper, I may need help getting up stairs, but I still know which things belong to me.”
“I'm sorry.”
“That watch stays in the family. Your grandfather wanted Nora to have it when she grows up.”
Nora began crying quietly.
I pulled her closer.
Grandma heard her.
“Is that my girl?”
Nora wiped her face.
“Yes, Grandma.”
“Listen to me, sweetheart. Nobody is selling Grandpa's watch.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Then Grandma's voice changed.
“Jill, there's something else.”
“What?”
“Your mother told me you agreed to help with repairs at the house.”
I sat straighter.
“What repairs?”
“She said you were arranging the bathroom work.”
My eyes moved toward the window.
Outside, a family was crossing the hotel courtyard together, carrying towels toward the swimming pool.
A perfectly ordinary morning.
And suddenly my ordinary family had become something I didn't recognize.
“Grandma, I haven't arranged any bathroom work.”
“But Helen said she showed you the estimate.”
“What estimate?”
Grandma didn't answer immediately.
Then I heard my father's voice.
“Mom, let's not get into all that right now.”
“Robert,” Grandma snapped, “I'm talking to my granddaughter.”
My father went quiet.
That surprised me.
Grandma rarely used that tone.
“Jill,” she continued, “I told your mother I needed a safer handrail and some changes around the bathtub. Nothing extravagant.”
“I remember.”
“I thought she was helping me arrange it.”
“Did any work actually happen?”
“A man came to measure the bathroom. Then somebody fixed a loose board on the back steps.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
I gripped my phone.
“Grandma, how much did Mom say the work would cost?”
“Eight thousand four hundred dollars.”
That sounded reasonable for the limited work she had described.
But the forty-thousand-dollar fundraising banner did not.
And neither did nineteen thousand dollars in donations.
“Grandma, do you know Mom has been asking relatives for money?”
“For my birthday reunion?”
“For house repairs.”
“What?”
I heard the strain in her voice.
Then a chair scraped.
“Leah, get me some water,” Grandma said.
I immediately regretted raising the subject while she was sitting in a hot parking lot.
“Grandma, please rest. Leah's arranging somewhere comfortable.”
“I'm not finished.”
She sounded more like herself again.
“Your grandfather and I worked forty years to pay for that house. We never wanted our children begging people for money in our names.”
“I know.”
“Then find out what's going on.”
“I will.”
After we disconnected, Nora moved closer.
“Mom, is Grandma going to lose her house?”
“I don't know.”
It hurt to admit that.
But I wasn't going to lie to her.
“I'm going to find out.”
Sam raised his hand like he was in school.
“Can Grandma live with us?”
I hugged him.
“If she ever needs somewhere to stay, we'll make sure she has a safe place.”
He nodded.
Then he returned to his pancakes.
Children sometimes make enormous questions sound wonderfully simple.
I called Leah again.
She'd found a nearby restaurant willing to accommodate Grandma and several older relatives.
She had arranged rides and cold drinks with the money I'd sent.
Nobody had been left standing in the heat.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Your mother thinks you're paying for lunch for everybody.”
“I'm not.”
“I told her.”
“How did she respond?”
“She said you've become selfish.”
I looked down at the bracelet on Nora's wrist.
“Maybe she should try explaining that to Grandma.”
Leah lowered her voice.
“Jill, there was almost an argument over the auction table.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother wanted the watch put away after Grandma noticed it. Vanessa insisted it should stay out because people had already offered money.”
“Did Grandma say anything?”
“She told Vanessa to close the box.”
A small amount of satisfaction warmed my chest.
Then Leah continued.
“Vanessa said, ‘You don't understand what happens if we don't raise enough today.’”
Enough.
That word bothered me.
Enough for what?
The reunion was canceled.
The country club had refunded my deposit.
The watch belonged to Grandma.
And the roof had already been repaired.
Where was this emergency coming from?
I called my mother.
She answered with an accusation.
“You have humiliated this entire family.”
“Mom, why are you collecting donations for Grandma's house?”
She paused.
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Vanessa has been handling the financial details.”
“Then why is my business listed as a sponsor?”
“Because your business is successful. People trust you.”
I felt something inside me go still.
“You used my name to collect money?”
“Don't make it sound ugly.”
“What would you call it?”
“We're trying to protect your grandmother.”
“From what?”
My mother exhaled sharply.
“You don't understand the pressure we've been under.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not over the telephone.”
“Is Grandma's house in trouble?”
Another silence.
“Mom.”
“Your father and I were going to tell you after the reunion.”
“Tell me what?”
Instead of answering, she said something I had heard all my life.
“Jill, you're the only one in this family who can handle difficult situations without falling apart.”
I almost laughed.
Even now, she expected me to be grateful for the responsibility.
“Mom, I'm asking one question.”
She said nothing.
“Is Grandma's house in danger?”
Finally, she whispered, “It could be.”
Then she ended the call.
I sat motionless.
A minute later, Leah sent another photograph.
This time it wasn't an auction item.
It was a folded notice Grandma had taken from her handbag.
At the top was the name of a local bank.
Below it were the words:
NOTICE OF DEFAULT — HOME EQUITY LINE OF CREDIT.
And beside Grandma Ruth's address was an outstanding balance.
$68,400.
I stared at the number.
Grandma's house had been paid off for decades.
May you like
Yet somebody had borrowed sixty-eight thousand four hundred dollars against it.
And nobody had bothered to tell me.
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