“We need to make sure the paint is dry before Saturday,” Mia said. “Grandma said we are doing messy games in the yard near the water.”
“It will dry by then, sweetie,” I said. I reached out to smooth a stray lock of her hair, but she was already focused on her next stroke. She rubbed the hem of her shirt with her left hand, a habit she kept when she was trying to get something exactly right.
“Do you think Grandma Eleanor likes blue?” Mia asked.
“I think she will love whatever you wear,” I said, though my stomach did a small, familiar turn at the lie.
Mia stopped her brush in mid-air. “Grandma has a lot of rules for her house.”
“She likes things tidy,” I said, twisting my silver wedding band around my finger.
“I am going to make her a book of rules,” Mia said, her face bright with the sudden idea. “So she knows the rules for being nice to people.”
