Troy noticed that Mom had eaten leftovers from the repast and hadn’t touched anything that Grace had prepared. He detected an undercurrent of tension between the two women, and sensed, via the almost telepathic bond that mothers and their children shared, that his mom wanted to tell him something about Grace, but he had no idea what it might be.

“Then dinner is over.” Grace pushed away from the table. She grinned at the kids. “After Nana provides dessert for the children.”

“Yeah!” Lexi said, and shot her arms skyward in a victory dance. Junior saw what his older sister did and emulated her, little arms thrust into the air, which drew a chuckle from Troy.

“Dessert at this hour?” Mom frowned. “It’s past eight o’clock. I don’t think giving them sugar so close to bedtime is a wise idea.”

“Nonsense.” Grace gave a dismissive wave. She opened the freezer section of the refrigerator and removed a plastic container. “What is dinner without a dessert? Besides, I’m giving them a homemade strawberry sorbet, which happens to be sugar-free.”

“Oh,” Mom said in a small voice.

From the container, Grace doled out scoops of bright red sorbet into small bowls, one scoop for each child. Troy asked for one, too, but Grace shook her head.

“They’re intended for the children,” she said. “It’s their special treat from Nana’s private recipe collection.”

“Sure.” Troy shrugged. “But you just said what is dinner without dessert? I was hoping for something.”

“How about I bake a cake for you before I leave tomorrow?” Grace said. She tilted her head. “What’s your favorite, dear?”

“I’ve always loved German chocolate cake.” He glanced at his mother. “My mom makes the best.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Mom smiled at him.

“Your opinion on that may change once you’ve tasted mine,” Grace said, but she had leveled her unblinking gaze at his mother.

What’s going on between these two? Troy wondered. Were they competing for a Grandmother of the Year award? He’d also caught Grace’s repeated use of the title “nana” in reference to herself, and had seen his mother bristle at each mention. He understood his mom’s discomfort. The kids had always known her as “nana,” and she wasn’t willing to give up that name to someone who had just arrived on the scene, maternal grandmother or not.

To help defuse the tension, Troy asked the kids to leave the table and come with him. He picked up their bowls of dessert and took the children upstairs into their activity area, planning to let them play while they ate the sorbet, and gradually nudge them toward their bedtimes.

His mother arrived soon thereafter, as he’d known she would. She settled beside Troy on the microfiber sofa, fingers clasping a glass of iced tea. Her lips curved in a wan smile.