“Get anything good at the mall?” Dad’s wide grin crinkles the skin around his eyes with genuine humor. Olivia says he’s handsome like Josh Duhamel, but I don’t see it. He’s way too goofy. He’s always doing things like going on weird diets where all he eats are beets for three days and then bingeing on ice cream when he’s finished. Mom says she loves him with extra weight, but I don’t think he believes her.

“What’s wrong with Clay?” Mom rushes forward and swoops Clay up in her arms.

Gram starts to explain. “I was a little—”

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s just really hot out and Gram’s tired. Why don’t you lie down, Gram? I’ll bring you some water.” Before she can say another word, I grab her hand and head down the hallway.

I glance behind us to make sure we weren’t followed. “Gram, I don’t think you should tell them about the parking lot. Remember how worried Dad got after the fire?”

Gram’s normally clear blue eyes are bloodshot, and lipstick has settled in the wrinkles around her mouth. I concentrate on the neatly made bed in the background instead. The tightly tucked corners and perfectly placed throw pillows are who my grandmother is. Not this confused woman.

She straightens her blouse and pats the droopy white curls curved about the tops of her ears. “Your father is a good son and he loves me. I’ve taught him to never turn your back on family.”

I wrinkle my nose. I don’t share her confidence. “Maybe he’ll stop worrying if you let him make you a doctor’s appointment.”

Gram waves her hand in dismissal. “I hate doctors. They give you medicine you don’t need, and they’ll say you’re sick when you’re not.”

“But you’re not going to talk about today, right?”

“I won’t say anything,” she says. “You know I am fine, yes?”

I don’t know any such thing. Lately, when she gets tired, her voice changes. She sounds like the lady in a movie we had to watch for history class. Is there a disease that gives you an accent?

She kisses my cheek and gives me a quick hug. I look past her to the old trunk pushed against the window. A memory whirls and opens. Click.

Soon after she moved in, on February 17, a Tuesday, Gram showed me this trunk. “Inside this treasure chest is a very special book about a girl who moved from far away. One day, when I am gone, it will be yours.”