She blinked. “You mean just you and me? Like, spending time together?”
I nodded. Reese reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Okay, Bette. I can do that.”
I smiled. I had high hopes for Reese, but I wasn’t putting all my eggs in one basket. After I left her house, I made four more stops. I visited all five of my grandchildren—Kade, Jax, Nash, and Colt—and gave each of them the exact same offer.
And you know what? Every single one of them agreed. Not one of them questioned why I’d singled them out. They just saw the millions of dollars dangling in front of them and grabbed for it with both hands.
And so began my little experiment. Every week after that, they came to visit. I was careful about it, you see. I scheduled their visits on different days so they wouldn’t accidentally run into each other. I truly enjoyed the company at first. After so many months of loneliness, having my grandchildren back in my life felt like a gift.
But it didn’t take long to notice the difference between them.
Reese arrived every Monday morning with warm smiles and open arms. She’d knock on my door, and before I could even say hello, she’d be asking questions. “Did you eat breakfast today, Bette?” she’d ask, already heading toward my kitchen. “When’s the last time you had a real meal?”
She scrubbed floors without being asked, cooked soup that filled the house with the smell of garlic and herbs, and brought flowers. She sat beside me on the couch and talked about her kids and their latest adventures, her worries, and her hopes for the future.
“I think I might go back to school,” she told me one afternoon. “Get my degree. The kids are getting older, and maybe I could make something more of myself.”
“You’ve already made something beautiful,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Look at those children. Look at how hard you work. That’s something.”
