“Right,” she said, somehow keeping a straight face.
The opposite was true. Sally lived to meddle. It was her favorite hobby. Well, that and knitting, though she’d been taking samba lessons at the senior center lately.
“But my granddaughter Megan—you remember Megan?”
“You’ve spoken of her before, yes.”
“I need to invite her over sometime so you can meet her. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” Iris asked.
“I’m getting there! Megan told me that her friend Mira needs a place to live urgently. I guess she broke up with her girlfriend and for some reason had to be the one to move out. Well, she had a sublet lined up, but the original tenant decided not to travel after all, and now Mira has all her things in storage and nowhere to go!”
“Wow, that’s awful.” Iris could relate to the perfect storm of seeing all plans fall through. Immediately she felt for Mira. “We have two rooms left, so if she’s interested, I’m happy to meet her.”
“You’re a lifesaver! Megan never asks for anything, so it means a lot that her Sallygram can come through when it counts.”
Iris laughed. “Sallygram? That is the cutest nickname I’ve ever heard.” With Sally’s personality, it was like she was a cheerful singing message. Actually, that was completely on point when Iris considered it.
Sally grinned. “The grandkids would always answer the phone when they were at my house. They loved it even when they were little. And my friends would ask for Sally, so the babies started calling me that, but my daughter, Kim, said it was disrespectful. ‘You can’t call her that. She’s your grandma, not your friend!’ I didn’t mind, but the books say I’m not supposed to argue about parenting. So then Megan said the cutest thing. ‘If she’s Sally and she’s my grandma, then she’s my Sallygram,’ and—”
“That’s how you became Sallygram. Love it.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear the rest, but she wanted to finish that necklace before the end of the day. “You can give my contact info to Megan to pass to Mira. Since I work from home, any time works.”
“Two retirees, two self-employed,” Sally noted. “I wonder if Mira has a day job… I’ll ask Megan more about her. And thanks again. You’re a gem.”
“What kind?” Iris asked, unable to resist.
It was the sort of silly, speculative question that made her an oddball among her own family. This would earn her that look from any one of her sisters and her parents too. But Sally paused, considering the matter with great concentration.
“Citrine or carnelian,” she said eventually.
“Why, in particular?”
“Citrine attracts good fortune,” Sally told her. “And you’re pure luck for me, Iris. For everyone in the house, really. We were all in a pickle, but things got better as soon as you said we could stay here. I can honestly say I’ve never been happier.”
“Wow. I feel like I want to hug you,” she said.
“Go for it. Hugs are free.” Sally winked at her then. “Kisses require more thought, and you’re too young for me.”
Oh, hey, Sally is flirting. She grinned. “It’s my loss. Maybe we’ll be born closer together in our next lives.”
Iris cuddled close, as Sally gave great hugs; she smelled like tropical fruit and summertime, and the older woman knew just how long to hold on without letting things become awkward. If Iris had gotten more hugs like that growing up, maybe her life wouldn’t have been so chaotic. She smiled as she stepped back, wondering if she should tell Sally how lucky Bruce and Kim were.
“Are you curious about the carnelian?” Sally asked.
“I am, but I might melt if you compliment me anymore today.”
Besides, Iris already knew that carnelian related to trust and abundance, so she had some idea of what Sally might say. While Henry Dale might dislike the woman’s endlessly chipper attitude, to Iris, it felt like Sally carried the sunshine with her wherever she went, even on rainy days. The older woman gave her a final pat before hurrying to her next engagement, and Iris returned to her studio to finish her necklace.
A bit past dinnertime, she got a text from Eli:
Food is done.
That was…beyond nice. When he cooked, he always made enough for everyone, and if somebody didn’t feel like eating, he’d put it in the fridge for later. It was odd; she felt more like she had a family now than she ever had while living at home. Her father was the dreamy sort, prone to leave messy life details to his overbearing wife. If he had the option, he’d stay in his study writing papers no historical journal wanted to publish. And Mom was still busy pretending he was a professor to keep up appearances.
She’d never thought about whether it was normal until she saw how other families lived. Her relationship with her folks had been chilly since she dropped out of college for the fourth time anyway, and things went from frosty to absolutely arctic when the rest of the Collins crew realized she had no plans to apologize for missing Rose’s promotion party. They probably found it incomprehensible that she was still pissed about Lily dating Dylan. Iris didn’t intend to let Lily off the hook.
Not this time.
Really, she should be hurt, right? That she’d been cut off. But instead, it felt like freedom. No more dodging calls. No more inventing excuses.
“You look conflicted,” Eli said, as she stepped into the kitchen.
She admired his and Henry’s work all over again. The white cabinets looked fantastic with the wooden counters, and the black-and-white tile floor hardly showed its age. This kitchen really was a welcoming space now, albeit like stepping back in time.
“Not as much as I expected.”
He flashed her a curious look. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to say. I don’t get along with my family, and I was just thinking that I’m happier now that we just…don’t talk.”
Eli didn’t say he was sorry or offer any of the usual platitudes. “I have cousins I rarely see, and I’m only close to Gamma, so I don’t quite know how it feels. I miss her a lot, but I’m glad she’s happy and having fun.”
“Gamma? That’s so precious.” As they ate the vegetable soup, she repeated the story Sally had shared with her.
“Sallygram? Kids are so funny.”
“I know, right?” She glanced at the hall that led to Henry Dale’s room. “Is he okay?”
“He took a bowl of soup to his room. Said he wanted to finish his book and it’s rude to read at the table.”
“This is really good, by the way.”
Eli often made good use of Great-Aunt Gertie’s old slow cooker, choosing soups and stews that were low effort, high reward, and perfectly suited to a chilly autumn evening. Tonight, he’d made a vegetarian minestrone, chock full of carrots, onions, celery, white beans, spinach, green beans, zucchini, tomatoes, and plump little pasta shells. It reminded her of going to an Italian restaurant in college that offered unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks, likely without realizing how much starving students could eat.