Life and Other Inconveniences(118)

I turned and walked down the path to my car. As I got in, I saw Robert scuttling down the path toward me.

“Emma, wait,” he said.

“What?”

“Uh . . . well, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Don’t waste my time, Robert. What is it?”

“I’ll pay for Riley’s college.”

“I’m surprised you even know her name.”

He sighed. “Yeah. We should’ve done more. Courtney . . .” He looked off to the house. “I should’ve done more. I’m sorry.”

“Too little, too late.”

“Let me pay for her college. We can afford it.”

For a second, I imagined it—my daughter living with the knowledge that the grandparents who didn’t find her worthy of a single visit had soothed their guilt with a check.

“Take your money, and shove it up your ass, Robert. You’re a weak man, and you raised a weak son. And your wife is a heartless, shallow bitch.”

“I know,” he said. “But please. Let me do this. Riley doesn’t have to know where the money came from. It’s the right thing to do. We owe her that much.” He paused. “We owe her a lot more.”

I swallowed. I didn’t want his guilt money. I wanted . . . I wanted to do it all myself.

But I couldn’t.

If I let Robert pay for college, Riley would know her grandfather cared enough to at least write a check. That he felt remorse. That he was trying to make amends.

Maybe Riley deserved the chance to be forgiving. She’d forgiven Gigi, after all, and maybe Robert deserved the same chance.

“I accept your offer,” I said.

“I’d like to meet her. I always wanted to, but . . . yeah. I’m a weak man.”

“People can change, Robert.” With that, I backed up and drove home, feeling oddly calm.

I would wait on telling Riley about this, of course. But she was no dummy. I had the sneaking suspicion she knew more than I gave her credit for, about Jason, and me. That despite my education and practice, I was pretty damn naive about people.

Not anymore.

When I got to Sheerwater, I went straight to my room and took a long shower in the glorious bathroom, then got dressed in my pajamas—it was seven o’clock, after all. Went downstairs and found Riley, Donelle, Rav and Helga playing cards in the conservatory, the windows open, the fireplace on to counter the chilly breeze.

Gigi and Pop sat in wing chairs by the fire, watching the card players. There was an air of camaraderie between those two, which struck me as both strange and comforting. My only grandparents. The ones who’d stepped up when my parents had failed me.

“Hi, Mom!” Riley said. “How was your day?”

I went over and kissed her head. “It was great,” I said. “How about yours?

“Also great. Want to play? It’s poker. Donelle is killing us.”

“I warned you,” she said.

“Hi, Dr. London,” Rav said.

“Hello, dear boy.”

Riley snorted.

“I need a moment with Gigi,” I said. “Maybe you can deal me in after that.”

“You missed dinner,” Helga said. “Don’t go messing around in my kitchen just because you’re late.”

I ignored that. “Genevieve? Can I talk to you? Hi, Pop.” I kissed his bristly cheek.

“I was wondering when I’d get acknowledged,” he grumbled.

Gigi got up, wobbling a bit, and my grandfather reached out a hand. I took her arm, and we went into my grandfather’s study, where it was quiet and dark. I turned on a lamp—a Tiffany original, probably—and ushered Gigi into a fat leather chair, then sat across from her.

“I couldn’t play cards tonight,” she said. “I seem to have forgotten how.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“A little. Here’s the deal. We’re staying. We’ll take care of you, Riley and I. Make me your medical proxy, and I’ll do right by you. You won’t die alone, Gigi.”

Her face stayed carved in stone for a second. Then she put her hand over her eyes. “I don’t want to die badly, Emma. I don’t want to be in diapers, drooling and afraid. Please help me die with some dignity. Some grace.”

“I won’t help you die. But I will help you live, however long you have left.”

“I don’t want Riley to see me when I’m senile.”

“I understand that. But we don’t get to pick how we go, Gigi. And we can’t teach her that just because things are hard, you check out. We have to do better than that for her.”

She started to cry, and I moved over to her chair and sat next to her.

“Why would you take care of me, Emma? I failed you.”

“I won’t fail you.”

“How can you say that? I was horrible.”

“You did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not petty.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I love you, Gigi,” I said. “It always drove me crazy that I did, but I did, and I do.” I hugged her a second, and her hand went to my cheek.

That was all.