“Hi, Marge.” She smiled at their neighbor and glanced at Jeremy, who indicated he would stay in the kitchen. “All right. See you later, Dad.”

She gave Marge a small wave and excused herself. Dad would have some explaining to do when he got back, but right now she would focus on her grandma. That’s why she was here.

Bea walked slowly down the hall, admiring the family photos that hung all along the wall. Suddenly, a tiny twinge from somewhere beneath her belly button stopped her. Her eyes widened. She put her hands on her stomach. “Is that you, little one?”

She stilled and breathed gently, hoping to feel it again. The app on her phone had told her she might start to feel her baby move soon, but nothing else happened as she waited. Her mind must be playing tricks on her.

When she reached the bedroom door, she paused. Even though it had been weeks since she moved out and her grandparents moved in, it was still strange that the room that had been her parents’ her whole life was someone else’s now. Nothing could stay the same forever. She was learning that was okay. Sometimes it was even good, because it forced people to consider things they never would’ve otherwise. Like going back to school to become a social worker.

The bedroom door stood open about an inch, and she tapped on it. “Grandma?” She strained to listen but heard no response. “It’s Bea.” She tapped again. “Beatrice.”

The bed creaked. Bea waited. A wizened face appeared in the crack. Bea expected her grandma to say, “Don’t just stand there, come in, come in,” but instead, she just pulled the door open and stepped back.

Bea forced a smile and entered, struck anew by how different the room looked now. Mom and Dad’s wedding photos were gone. Bright yellow curtains were tied back on the picture window, and Grandma’s rocking chair from the porch at the ranch was positioned there so she could look outside.

“It’s good to see you, Grandma.”

Grandma tilted her head, then let her eyes drop to Bea’s midsection. Bea placed a hand there and flushed. Though she was almost to the twenty-week mark, her baby bump was still barely noticeable. Could Grandma see it? Something flashed in her eyes, then was gone.

While Bea watched, unsure what to do, Grandma carefully lowered herself into the rocking chair and stared out the window. Bea let out a long breath. She thought she’d been prepared for this. Dad had warned her that Grandma’s good days were getting fewer and farther between. Yet seeing it for herself was like having an elbow injury you could almost forget about if you didn’t keep bumping it into things.