Granny knocked on my door a little before 10:00 p.m. I could see her shadow illuminated against the bright porch light at the top of the stairs. Even though I was far from in the mood for company, I’d never not answer the door for her. Especially not while living in her house. I paused the movie I was watching, stretching my arms far over my head on my way to the door. My muscles still ached from all the stupid chairs I’d set up that morning. Which was dumb. How far I’d fallen if setting up chairs felt like a workout.

Granny held a casserole dish covered in tinfoil with a bag of rolls resting on top. “I come with food.”

I smiled. “You’re welcome anytime without it. But . . .” I peered toward the dish. “Since it’s here, I’ll go grab a fork.” I motioned her into the apartment as I walked toward the kitchen to get utensils—enough for both of us. If I knew Granny, she wouldn’t watch me eat alone.

“It’s just leftover lasagna,” she said. “And my homemade rolls.” She set the pan on the coffee table in the living room and sat down in a chair.

“Just lasagna and homemade rolls?” I called from the kitchen. “Granny, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

“You didn’t eat tonight?”

Back in the living room, I put her fork on the coffee table, pulled the tinfoil off the top of the pan, and took a big bite. It was still warm. I moaned with pleasure as I dropped onto the sofa. No one induced food comas like Granny did. She stood and walked to the kitchen, shooting me an it’s-a-good-thing-I-love-you look as she passed by.

“Utensils but no plates,” she mumbled under her breath. “Kids these days.” I reached up while taking another heaping bite, and she dropped the plate into my hand before sitting back down.

“Thank you,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food. I reached for my water bottle sitting on a side table and took a long swig. “I didn’t eat.” I scooped a serving of lasagna onto my plate, then dished some up for her as well. “I had a decent lunch, but then this thing happened at work, and I got annoyed and came home and . . .”

“Drowned your unhappiness in Kit Kat bars?” Granny looked at the floor in between the couch and the coffee table, the detritus of my pity party covering the carpet.

I tore off a piece of roll. “Stupid, I know. Fun at the time though.”

“What’s going on at work? You care to tell me about it?”

I breathed out a sigh. “It’s not good. Simon thinks Ida should sell the inn. I guess there’s all kinds of debt she didn’t know about, so he thinks that’s her best option.”

“Jamie’s older brother Simon?”