Mom launched into her I’m-never-going-to-have-grandchildren routine with the crackling energy of a runaway auction. Then she slammed her signature why-do-I-even-bother look at me like a hammer and abruptly transitioned to “How is business?”

“Growing.” I sent the hopeful thought out into the universe. Truth was, our survival depended on our next few contracts. “We’re signing a new client.”

My phone pinged. A text from Trey. Contract fell through.

Damn Selig. We offered an excellent service. He would have made money for his run with us. Why wasn’t that enough? Why did my presence in his hotel room have to be part of the bargain?

We needed more new clients. We needed to spend more on PR and customer outreach. I texted that back to Trey, out of sight of the laptop camera. Failure was my mother’s catnip.

Three little dots wiggled on my phone. Trey was typing. Then the dots went poof away. Nothing. He was thinking about my suggestion. That he’d never once taken my word for anything annoyed me, but I let the familiar aggravation go. Consideration was better than a knee-jerk no.

“I don’t know how long you can possibly last.” Mom rolled right along. “You built a company based on the whims of politics. How can you be so irresponsible?”

“Why don’t I just open a cupcake shop? Do something feminine?” I stole her next line.

“People have to eat.” She shot me a withering look, then trained her Sauron eye on Violet. “What did the doctor say yesterday?”

“I want to talk to you about something else.” My grandmother smiled at me impishly, so I knew to brace. “I sold the house.”

No! Shock yanked my spine straight. Violet’s four-story brownstone in Greenwich Village had been the nest of my best childhood memories.

“What do you mean you sold the house?” Mom’s voice shot up. “We did not discuss selling.”

“It didn’t need to be discussed,” Violet said gently. “I’ve been behind on the bills here, and I don’t like being behind.”

She didn’t need our agreement. She was right. The decision clearly made her happy. I wasn’t going to tell her how hard the news hit me.

She read it on my face. “Our love for each other doesn’t live in that house, honey. Our memories won’t be included in the sale with the appliances.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think of your home as just a pile of bricks.”

“Think of it as I do. A place of great comfort, and lots of love, and blooming creativity. We were blessed by it for a long time. And now we release it with gratitude. May it delight all who enter the doors, for at least another hundred years.”

And there she was, my grandmother, shifting the world with a handful of words.

“I’m glad you found a solution.”