“You sure this is cool? Your grandma isn’t gonna hit me with a broom or something, is she?”

Autumn shakes her head. “She’s watching Judge Keenan. She won’t even notice you’re here. Trust me.”

We abandon Autumn’s car in her driveway, and slip into the front door just in time to hear Judge Keenan deliver his trademark quip: Nuh-uh, you better get outa my courtroom with that buuuulll-ish.

We walk through the living room—its walls covered in family photos, its furniture zipped in protective plastic—and into the family room.

Nana’s sitting in a bright blue recliner chair, her wheeled walker to the right of her, her back to us, staring ahead at the television. She doesn’t even flinch as we creep behind her, start the ascent up the stairs.

“Autumn, baby.”

We stop in our tracks.

“Yes, Nana?”

“I know you not bringing nobody up in my house without a greeting.”

I shoot Autumn a look. She shrugs. “It’s just Jamal, Nana.”

“I know who it is, girl. I’m old, not dumb. And Jamal, I know you got better manners than that. Now both of you get over here and let me see you.”

We walk back down into the living room, walk around to face Nana. And I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but I see where Autumn gets her looks from; Nana is old but still beautiful, regal. You can tell by the way she holds her head that she’s used to mesmerizing a room.

“Hi, Nana,” I say. “I’m sorry for being rude. It was Autumn’s fault.”

Nana holds out her hand, and for a second I wonder if I’m supposed to kiss it, but I shake it instead.

“Mm-hm. Maybe if you came ’round here more often, my granddaughter wouldn’t feel the need to sneak over to your house at all hours of the night.”

Damn. Nana came out swinging. I want to laugh, but also, I’m kind of scared. “Huh? Oh. Ummm . . . I’m s-s-sorry . . . I . . .”

“Mm-hm. What are your intentions with my granddaughter, young man?”

I smile, look over at Autumn, and then back to Nana. “I have nothing but the best intentions, I promise you.”

“Yes, well, maybe you’ll come over here, now, too. We’d be happy to have you. During regular business hours, of course. Only thing open after midnight are legs and hospitals, and neither of you are to be at either place.”

“Umm, yes? I mean, no. Not going, um, there, yes ma’am. As in, no ma’am.”

“Well, which is it, child?”

Autumn cuts in. “Nana, please.”

But Nana’s not at all vexed. “Please what? Did I say something that wasn’t true? Last time I checked this was still my house.”

“Yes, Nana.”