Since my father owns my duplex, I certainly couldn’t question his generosity to my sister, and now there was a hidden bonus. While I was serving out my time as my nieces’ babysitter, I wouldn’t have Mom looking over my shoulder.

In the kitchen I took bread, sliced turkey, cheese from the refrigerator. “What do the girls like for lunch?” I poked my head around the door, hands full. “Peanut butter? Soup?”

“Grilled cheese. Plain. American cheese. White bread.”

I made a face. “Can they be trained?”

“I hope you won’t have enough time to try.”

Those were my sentiments exactly. I set food on the counter and dove back in for my mother and me, coming up with ham and mustard. “Has Dad eaten?”

“Last night for dinner I made whole wheat pasta with chopped tomatoes and basil. He ate three bites and said he wasn’t hungry. I served it again today for lunch. He didn’t like it any better.”

My mother has always been determined to plow straight through the worst life has to offer. Even her recreational choices reflect that. She raises money for foster children, serves on a county committee studying homelessness, and participates in local pro-life marches. Still, since I knew her so well, today I heard the mixture of concern and annoyance in her voice.

“I bet you’d like some help with meal prep,” I said. “I’ll find some vegan recipes and see what I can do. Maybe the girls like to cook, too.”

She was silent so long I thought she’d blown me off, but she finally sighed, a sound I rarely heard. “Holly and Noelle don’t seem to like much, Ryan. Maybe they feel strange with us since we’ve never lived in the same town. But I remember you and your sister at their ages. Wendy was busy making friends. You were always outside doing something. Trying to build a fort. Kicking a soccer ball. In the pool. You loved books. I was at the library practically every other day to keep you supplied. By the time you were Holly’s age, you’d already cooked your first meal. All by yourself.”

I was surprised by the recital, and more surprised she remembered the meal. “Macaroni and cheese and sliced tomatoes. And it wasn’t quite by myself. You insisted on draining the macaroni. I was furious.”

“And I’d do it again.” She almost smiled. “You made ice cream sandwiches for dessert.”

“Chocolate ice cream between oatmeal cookies.”

“I don’t think the girls would do any of those things. Don’t be disappointed. They’re good children.” She paused. “But they aren’t fun to have around.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Mom looked up and saw my expression. “I may be their grandmother, but I’m not blind to who they are. Wendy’s absence is going to weigh on them, especially Noelle. She’s at that age where she worships her mother. You’ll have to keep things running smoothly while your sister’s gone. They’ll need nutritious meals, a schedule they can count on, assistance with their homework, early bedtimes. Their booster seats are in my car, and you’ll have to move them to yours. But they can get themselves in and out and use the seat belts.”