Now that I’ve flattened out the problem with Yakov, it’s way bigger than I first thought. I’m never going to get it to fit back into the neat place it was before we came up with this stupid plan. Now Yakov is going to tell Gram. What if the stress makes her memory worse? It seems like every time she talks about her past, she gets more… unfocused.

“It’s me,” Yakov says, and then speaks rapid Russian into the phone. His eyes narrow on me while he talks.

I may not understand Russian, but I have a pretty good idea what he’s saying to Gram right now. Max smirks his trademark smirk, and I start to see it isn’t him being a jerk at all. It’s what he does when he’s nervous and not sure what to do.

Yakov pockets his phone and points to me. “Stay here, little one. Your babushka is on her way.”

“Great. Just great,” Olivia mutters. “We’re busted.”

Max shifts from one foot to the other. “Maybe we should get out of here?”

“She knows we’re here,” I say. “How will running away help?”

He looks over his shoulder and grimaces. “I guess it won’t, but she sure looks mad.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling at Max’s terrified expression. It almost makes the sight of Gram storming down the path worth it. Almost.

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” Gram sets Clay down and faces me with both hands on her hips.

Yakov chuckles. She switches her glare to him. “How is this funny?”

He holds his hands up in the air. “Not funny. No funny here.”

She turns back to me. “Why did you drag Yakov out here? What is going on with you?”

“He isn’t a doctor,” I say, latching on to her lie to make me feel better about mine. “You said he was, and he isn’t.”

“How do you know this?” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t recognize me, but it isn’t her memory this time. It’s disappointment.

“I made her look him up,” Olivia says, her face pinched with worry. “She told me about your visit, and I… I…” Her eyes widen to saucers when she can’t think of a story that fits.

Clay chooses that moment to fart so loud that Gram jumps. I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle, but it escapes and ends in a high-pitched cackle.

“I hear a moose,” Yakov says with a bark of laughter.

Gram’s mouth twitches, and a smile escapes when Clay declares, “I fatted.”

“Say ‘excuse me,’ ” she instructs. He immediately obeys and then crouches next to a pile of rocks. Sorting rocks is Clay’s passion.

I’m still giggling nervously when she turns her attention back to me. “I’m still waiting for an explanation, Lulu,” she says.