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“Grandmother.” My mother corrects me. “Come, Colette.”

“Let’s go, Granny!” Coco wiggles out of my arms to the floor then hops out like a kangaroo.

Tabby snorts behind me, and my mother’s eyes narrow. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”

With that she strides out, and I push the door closed behind them, resting my forehead against the glass.

“I swear, if that little girl were any less stubborn, I’d be worried about her,” Tabby says from behind me.

I watch them a few seconds longer—my mother trying unsuccessfully to hold Coco’s hand while they walk the four blocks to her house, the old house where I grew up.

“She’ll be okay a little while longer,” I say, feeling like my heart is hopping away from me, batting at her grandmother’s hand with every bounce.

“Old battle axe. I guess you survived living with her.”

“She wasn’t like this before Minnie died.” My voice is quiet, repeating a memory.

“Says who.” It’s not a question. It’s a skeptical retort from my bestie.

“Aunt Agnes. She said my mother used to know how to have fun.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“To be honest, I’ve never believed it either.” I don’t even remember my older sister.

“You’re too independent for her. She can’t handle it. She almost lost her mind when you took up with Jackson Cane so young—”

Cutting my eyes, I stop that line of conversation. “We don’t talk about him.”

“We should.” Tabby studies my face. “He’s the only guy you were ever serious about.”

He said he’d come back, and he never did…

Exhaling deeply, I return to my phallic creation. “Ancient history. Now let’s finish this thing before it’s too late…”