Nevertheless, the forecast was idyllic. Tonight they’d have the rodeo and fireworks, the next night a picnic on the river. Maude specified a place on the island a few blocks away, owned by old family friends, which made Polly nervous. Though she very much wanted to find Ariel, she did not want to find her during a picnic for Maude. On the Fourth, maybe some lazy cousin would volunteer to cook. On July 5, Maude’s actual birthday, they’d have a party at the house for the same lazy, ancient cousins.

On the way back from the airport, Jane had fended off an attempt to once again enlarge the party and survived an inquisition. Was Jane happy, or at least content? How did she feel about her late career? Was she still in menopause? When things didn’t go Maude’s way, she retaliated with questions. Now, while she napped, Jane and Polly struggled with another request: Maude wanted to float.

They discussed this problem while Jane held Helen on her lap, drawing a floor plan of a castle named Chateau d’Helene. “Maude says it’s the last time she’ll be able to,” said Jane. “She says everything is the last time.”

Polly fretted about Maude in a boat, about everything having to do with boats, while she threw her body around for the last of the cleaning. Maude, on rising, noticed none of Polly’s efforts. They gave her coffee and cookies after her nap, and watched as she made a pretty list with Sam’s colored pens. Her handwriting was beautiful like Dee’s, and still firm.

Things Maude intended to do during her visit:

See Harry’s latest dig.

Talk to him about his life. Give advice.

Watch movies with the children.

Sort photos and identify people who will then be forgotten again.

Win at cards.

See birds, float the river, picnic.

Dabble in relatives. Give advice.

Talk to Polly about her head. Give advice.

Eat well.

Receive accolades at parade and rodeo and party.

Polly filled a Maude request for chicken potpie (“With Mother’s butter crust and all those lovely things you add? Morels, nice Italian salted pork?”) and Harry and Josie joined them for dinner. Maude drank too many gimlets while showing the photographs she’d brought to put up at the party, and lectured Harry and Josie, who she thought should stick to the idea of marrying this weekend.

“I would like to be happy when we marry,” said Harry.

“And when would that be?” asked Maude. “I’m here, now.”

“Happier,” said Harry. “Grandma, I’m a wreck. I loved that little girl.”