He didn’t smile. “I don’t even know her very well.” “Which is precisely why you should stay.”

Alessio made a face.

“Oh, stop that. You and Grandma will have a ball. I promise. By the time I get back, you won’t even want to go home.”

“I doubt that.”

“Come on, son.” She climbed out of the car.

Doris shouted from the porch. “Hi, Ellen.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Where’s my little Alessio?”

“He’s in the car.” She raised her finger to her head, her hand shaped like a gun. Doris only smiled. She had been a mother once. Still was.

Eliana opened the trunk and took out a small suitcase and a backpack. Then she opened Alessio’s door, giving him the eye. “You be good, or I’m not bringing you back that new Nintendo game you wanted.” She dropped his backpack in his arms.

“All right.” He climbed out of the car, the frown still stitched to his face.

“There’s my Alessio.”

“Hi, Grandma.”

Doris just smiled. When they reached the porch, she greeted them both with a hug. “Come on inside, you two.” They stepped in.

Eliana breathed in deeply. “It smells good.”

“They had a sale on apricots at Smith’s and I was making some fruit leather.”

“That brings back memories.”

“Alessio, I have a Nintendo game in the family room. You’re going to have to set it up for me.”

“Okay.”

“It’s right there past the kitchen.”

He ran off.

“I don’t want him playing Nintendo the whole time I’m gone.”

Doris just smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty to do. So how’s everything at your duplex? All moved in?”

“Yes. It’s nice.”

“You know, you could have just moved in here with us. Alessio would have more room out back to play.”

“I know, Mom. And I appreciate it. It’s just . . .”

Doris waved her hand, dismissing Eliana’s need to explain. “I know, dear. I was young once too. You can’t go back. Besides, having your old mother around would just cramp your style.”

Eliana laughed. “What style?”

“Everyone at church has been asking about you.”

Eliana picked up a thin sheet of apricot leather. It was still warm. She pulled a strip from it and ate it. “I love this stuff. So what is everyone asking about?”

“You know, the usual stuff. How are you doing . . . what are you up to . . . when are you going to get married again . . . the usual.”

She groaned. “I figured.”

“You know Michael Sanford’s available.”

“The one with six kids? He got a divorce?”

“No, his wife died of cancer last year. He’s a good man, Michael. Good dad. Not a bad-looking man either.”

“Six kids?” She raised her hands. “Piano, piano.”

“Piano?”

“It means slowly, Mom.”