If Sadie had given me anything more than scraps from her heart, I could’ve done better, but the truth is, I got tired of trying. Sadie had her father; I had my Juliet, and Oliver, and Brianna, and a few years later, another beautiful granddaughter, Sloane.

John was a bit disappointing as a grandfather, frankly. He was fine when a child was deposited on his lap, but he wasn’t all that enthusiastic. He still worked a few days a week and played golf (the most unimaginative hobby in the world). Twice a year, he went away for a golf weekend with his friends, and I loved being in the house without him. Sometimes he’d go to the city to see Sadie and take her out to dinner and spend the night in a hotel down there, or at her place, once she got an apartment of her own.

“You never did that when I lived there,” Juliet said, a rare rebuke from our gentle girl.

“Didn’t I?” was his response, and I felt the venom well up in my throat, like one of those dinosaurs that could spit acid. Still, I held my tongue.

I continued to be a contributing member of Stoningham, working on committees and serving on boards. I watched my granddaughters when asked—unlike me, Juliet and Oliver liked to go out, and it was a joy to be the one to care for the girls. I’d read to them, or bake cookies with them, or do crafts and let them take an extra-long bath, and when they were asleep, I’d fold some laundry or pick flowers. Juliet’s house was beautiful, and she had a cleaning lady, but I still liked to fuss and tidy.

It was so nice to be wanted.

I thought about divorcing John. It had been so long since we’d done anything meaningful together, connected in any way. But there was that affordability thing. The thought of losing my house.

Then Bill Pritchard said he wouldn’t run again for first selectman.

“You should run, Mom,” Juliet said over dinner at her house when John was on a golfing weekend. The girls were in bed, and we were enjoying a glass of wine on the deck on the top of their house, which overlooked the Sound.

“Oh, absolutely,” Oliver concurred. “Can you imagine how shipshape this town would be if you were in charge, Mum?”

“That community center project would be in the bag, that’s for sure,” Juliet said. She put her hand over mine. “You should do it. You’d be amazing.”

“Honey, I’m almost seventy.”

“And? You have more energy than I do. And organizational skills. And smarts. And everyone adores you.”