Page 41 of Thin Ice

It was starting to feel normal saying that word out loud. She was quiet a second. The turn signal clicked.

"I spoke to your grandmother."

The bottom of my stomach dropped about six inches. "You told Grandma Jean?"

"I told your grandmother, yes."

"Mom, when?"

"About a month ago. On the phone. After you told me."

"And you didn't think to mention that?"

"I'm mentioning it now."

"You've been sitting on this for — "

"Liam." She said it steady, the way she says everything when I'm spiraling and she's not. "Your grandmother is fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine. Her exact words were, 'Well, that explains a few things,' and then she asked me what you wanted for Christmas."

I stared at her.

"That's — that's what she said?"

"That's what she said. And your grandfather was sitting right there — you know she puts me on speaker whether I want to be on speaker or not — and his exact contribution was 'hm.' That's it."

I sat with that for a quarter-mile.

"What did she mean, 'explains a few things'?"

"I didn't ask."

"And Grandpa just — 'hm.'"

"That's an endorsement, baby. You know that."

I knew that. A full sentence from my grandfather was a parade. "Hm" was practically a standing ovation.

"What about everyone else?" I said.

She took the turn toward town. The grocery store parking lot was already visible, half-full.

"I didn't say anything to anyone else," she said. "That's your business to share, not mine. But you know how things get around in this family. Your grandmother talks to your Aunt Sheryl every Sunday, and Sheryl talks to Deb, and Deb tells Russ everything eventually, and Russ… well it stops there because he forgets everything… So." She pulled into a spot and killed the engine. "I wouldn't assume it's a secret."

"Great."

"Nobody's said a word to me about it. That might mean they don't know, or it might mean they're waiting to see you and him in person before they form an opinion. That's how this family works."

"So awkward… and annoying."

"That's family." She grabbed her purse and the coupon wallet. "Come on. We've got two hours before the good hams are gone."

The grocery store the week before Christmas was a full-contact sport.

Carts bumping in every aisle. A kid having a meltdown in produce. Two women arguing over the last bag of cranberries as if it were the last helicopter out of a war zone. My mom moved through all of it the way she moved through everything. Fast, focused, list in her head, no browsing.