It was Daniel.
Grant’s son did not ask how he was doing. He did not ask whether the knee was still bothering him after the fall in August, or whether the road had washed out again, or whether he was eating properly, or whether he was lonely, which he sometimes was, though he would not have said so.
Daniel said, “So, Claire’s parents are moving into the mountain house.”
Grant stopped stirring.
He heard the sentence, and then he heard it again, and the second time he heard the grammar of it, which was the part that mattered.
Not are you okay with. Not would it be possible. Not we wanted to ask you about something.
Are moving.
He set the spoon down on the counter very carefully, the way you set something down when you have just noticed your hands are not entirely steady.
“Say that again,” he said.
“Their condo’s getting renovated. It’s going to be six, eight weeks, maybe a little more. They need somewhere peaceful. You’ve got all that space up there doing nothing.”
