“I’ll feed them, get them ready for bed, and keep them safe. The washing can wait.”
He laughed.
“Right. Fine.”
But he looked surprised.
As though the washing machine had somehow stopped working.
Stephanie touched his arm.
“We really should go.”
They left.
I watched their car disappear.
Then Zoe slipped her hand into mine.
“Can we make pancakes?”
“For dinner?”
She grinned.
“Special pancakes.”
I looked at the instructions.
Chicken casserole.
Carrots.
Rice.
Then I looked at her hopeful face.
“How about pancakes for pudding?”
She cheered.
We ate together at the kitchen table.
Oliver spilled water down his shirt.
Zoe told me about a girl at school who’d swallowed a bead.
We made pancakes shaped like stars.
One looked more like a potato.
Oliver declared it the best star he’d ever seen.
For two hours, I forgot about my notebook.
I was simply their grandmother.
