The waiter reappeared with menus and asked if they would be joining us for lunch.
“Why yes, I think we will,” my grandmother said. “But we don’t need menus. The lobster rolls, of course.” She said it the same way that Joe did, with a long, accented “lawb” and an “ah” instead of “er” at the end.
“Oh, I don’t think I could eat a whole one,” Donna said. “You know how big they are here.”
“You’ll take it home. Martin will be thrilled with the leftovers.”
“That’s true.”
The waiter said he would rush the order.
Grandma dug through her purse and pulled out a baggie of assorted pills, which she dumped into her hand, then picked out several small, ruddy pentagons. “Xanax, anyone?”
Joe and I shared an alarmed look, while Donna helped herself to a pill.
“Grandma, you can’t just give out Xanax!”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s prescription only.”
“No it isn’t. I got a big bottle at Costco.”
“Yes it . . .” I trailed off, realizing that it wasn’t Xanax. She was the queen of malapropisms. Like the time she got pulled over for driving alone in the high occupancy vehicle lane and insisted to the police officer that she took the “HIV lane” all the time with no issues.
He let her go without so much as a warning.
I changed tactics. “What do you take it for?”
“What do you think I take it for?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Heartburn, you silly girl. I can’t even look at a French fry without it.”
“Zantac,” Joe and I said at the same time.
“That’s what I said.”
I looked back at Joe. “Didn’t they pull that off the market a couple years ago? Caused cancer or something?”
“I think so.”
“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Joe was trying not to laugh and excused himself to go to the bathroom. I watched him crack up once he was out of my grandmother’s line of sight, then I turned to her.
“What are you doing?”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“I—” I stopped myself. She was playing dumb to get me to admit that I liked Joe and that she was intruding. “Nothing,” I muttered.
A second later, she was holding my arm in a surprisingly firm grasp, her bony hand wrapped around my wrist. “You were mucking it all up.”
“I—what?”
“Donna and I were walking by and saw you, and I said, ‘Let’s see how she does.’ And you weren’t doing well. I’m here to help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A man doesn’t make a face like that when you’re entertaining him. What were you talking about, anyway?”
“His dead wife,” I said through gritted teeth. “Maybe if you’d told me about that, it wouldn’t have come up over lunch.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t my business to tell.”
“You literally told me that Donna just had a hysterectomy!”
“Well, I did,” Donna said mildly.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “You’re not helping.”
My grandmother was smiling broadly when I looked back at her. “And you aren’t interested, so what do you care?”
The waiter came out with all four sandwiches, and Joe returned just as he finished setting them on the table.
“Everyone watch Jenna take her first bite,” my grandmother directed, to my mortification. “I honestly wish I could go back in time and experience this for the first time.” She turned back to Donna. “A day after Brewster’s too.”
“The best,” Donna agreed.
“You all can eat,” I said. “Please don’t watch me.”
Joe picked up his sandwich. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He shot me a quick smile before taking a bite and averting his eyes.
My grandmother elbowed me sharply in the ribs, raising her eyebrows.
Steeling myself for a long afternoon, I lifted the sandwich and took a bite. My shoulders dropped. “Why is this so good?” I asked after swallowing.
“It’s the sea air,” my grandmother said. “Everything tastes better here.”
“Not everything,” Donna said. “Remember how horrible Louise’s cooking was?”
“Darling, everything that woman did was horrible.”