“Sweetheart, that’s not—”
“You left me,” my granddaughter shouted. “And now you probably need money to keep up whatever charade you have going on. But I see the truth clearly, and let me tell you, you came to the wrong place. This is my house. I’m already 18. Grandma is all the family I need. And this house is mine and hers!”
With those words, Emma tore the papers to shreds. As she stared at the pieces on our floor, Melissa’s smile collapsed. Rage twisted her features into something ugly.
“Ungrateful brat,” she hissed, snatching up her purse. “You’ll regret this when you’re stuck in your 20s with no money and taking care of a dying old woman.”
I gasped, but I didn’t have time to give her a piece of my mind like I wanted to. She picked up the garment bag, and her heels clattered like gunfire as she walked to the door and slammed it behind her.
I felt my granddaughter’s arms wrap tightly around me just then. Okay, that’s that, I thought, relieved. The next evening, prom night arrived. Emma smoothed her blue dress in front of the mirror and gave me a determined smile.
“Ready, Grandma?” I fetched my car keys, and together we walked out to my old sedan. I dropped her off at the school and wished her a good time.
Hours later, just past midnight, I heard gravel crunching in our driveway. One of her friends had driven her back, so I went out to greet her. Emma climbed the porch steps, and I saw that her curls were loose, and her mascara was smudged, but she had a smile that could light up the darkest night.
“How was it, honey?”
She hugged me tight, whispering into my shoulder, “I was the most beautiful girl there. Because of you.”
