“This walkway, while visually striking, could pose a hazard for children.” Grace ran her fingers along the decorative, wrought-iron railing that bordered both sides of the catwalk. “An adventurous youngster might be inspired to climb the railing and take a leap to the furniture below. Children do such things from time to time.”

“Lexi is terrified of heights,” Monica said, “and Junior’s too little to climb up. I’m not concerned about it.”

“Hmph.” Grace’s lips tightened. “Their Nana will worry about it then.”

“Okay . . . so about this Nana stuff,” Monica said. They reached the end of the catwalk and approached the next set of rooms. They were out of earshot from her family downstairs, but Monica nonetheless spoke in a hushed tone. “The kids have always addressed Troy’s mother as ‘Nana.’ I think it’s best if we use another name for you. I don’t want to confuse them.”

Grace stared at her. Monica found her forthright gaze slightly disconcerting. Is she really angry about a name?

“All of my other grandchildren have always called me Nana,” Grace said.

“Understood, but like I said, they already call Troy’s mother ‘Nana,’ ” Monica said. “It wouldn’t be right to take that name from her and give it to you.”

“There can be only one Nana. I suppose I’ll have to suffocate your husband’s mother with a pillow tonight while she sleeps.”

While Monica frowned at her, Grace grinned and playfully swatted her arm.

“It’s no problem, dear,” Grace said. “We can create another term of endearment that the children can use to address me.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Tension easing out of her, Monica tapped her bottom lip. “I’ve got it. How about they call you ‘Miss Grace’?”

“Miss Grace? That sounds like something you would call a family friend or a neighbor, not a maternal grandmother, for goodness sake.”

“Sorry.” Monica stammered. “I’m struggling with this. Heck, I don’t even know what to call you. I mean, I know I should call you ‘mom’ . . . but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Take some time to think about it then, sweetheart.” Grace’s eyes were kind. “Let’s see the rest of your home, yes?”

Monica showed her Junior’s and Lexi’s bedrooms—painted blue and pink respectively—and an activity area for the kids that she had designed. The room included a bookcase full of children’s books, a small work table with matching chairs, educational toys stored in a large wooden bin, and a twenty-gallon freshwater aquarium teeming with darting tetras of multiple hues.