Grandma was sitting in her favorite chair beside the window when I got there, the late afternoon light falling across her lap. She looked up when I came in.
“Are they angry?”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly. “Good.”
I sat down beside her.
“Grandma…”
She reached over and took my hand in both of hers.
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know everything.”
She looked toward the window, toward her roses outside catching the last of the sun. “Your grandfather warned me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to believe my children would never become people I needed protection from.” Her voice trembled slightly on the last few words. “I was wrong.”
I squeezed her hand. “What happens now?”
She looked at me, and after a long moment, a small smile appeared. “Now?” She squeezed back. “Now they learn that being family does not give you permission to steal from someone.”
