“I’ve been putting some thought into going to the doctor,” Gram says. “Perhaps if I make an appointment myself, with a friend of mine? That way everyone can rest assured that I am perfectly fine.”

“Who is it?”

She fiddles with her scarf and glances out the window. “No one you know. We go way back. After we have a quick talk, he will see I am well and will e-mail your father.”

“He won’t want to examine you?” Things are sounding fishier by the minute.

“That isn’t necessary. Like I said earlier, I’m fine. Just a little tired, yes?”

I know there’s more wrong than a little tiredness, and something feels off about this doctor’s visit. But Gram’s always been honest with me. “I guess if you’re sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“He does, and he knows me well. Not like a strange doctor who thinks they know everything about you from one test.”

I wiggle my pencil. “Fine. But I do really want to know more about you, Gram, and not just because I’m worried. Like, what’s your earliest memory?”

Instead of answering, Gram goes to the small radio she keeps by the sink. “I think it’s time for a dance party. What do you think, Clay?”

“Dance!” Clay pounds his tray with both fists.

Gram turns the radio on, and a Beatles song fills the room. She starts to shimmy to the beat. “Come on, Lulu. Show me those moves!”

I roll my eyes and giggle when she does a weird dance where it looks like she’s swimming. Gram has been dancing every day with us since she moved here. Sometimes we even get Mom and Dad to join us if we play the right eighties song.

Gram grabs my hands and twirls me until I laugh breathlessly. I forget to be self-conscious once my feet start moving to the music. Clay demands to get down so he can be a part of it too, and soon we’re all dancing in a circle. Gram takes turns spinning us and shows Clay how to do the twist.

The first song ends and another that has an even catchier beat starts. Three songs later, Gram leans against the counter with a chuckle. “Okay, sweet boy, that’s enough dancing for now. We need to get you upstairs for a nap.”

Clay shakes his head and runs around the kitchen in increasingly smaller circles.

I hold my stomach and laugh. “He’s never going to sleep now.”

“Dance party rules,” Gram says with a smile as she turns the music down. “Big boys must take their naps or no more dancing later on. You don’t want that, do you?”

Clay stops in his tracks and puts his hands up. “Nap, Gwam.”