“No. Coffee usually does it for me in the mornings.”
This was yet another thing Rosie did not know about herdaughter these days. This adult version of Emma was a virtual stranger.
The last time they had lived together, when Emma wasn’t yet seventeen, her daughter had loved a big breakfast. Bacon, hashbrowns, pancakes. The whole thing. Now she was a vegetarian who apparently fueled up with coffee in the mornings.
She would figure all of those things out. They had time. Emma was here for at least a few months. If Rosie had anything to say about it, she could be here longer.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the back door opening. She looked over in surprise and found her mother peering at the three of them seated at the table.
Rosie jumped up and rushed to Sylvia. “Mom! What are you doing here? I can’t believe you made your way all the way to the house on your own. Why didn’t you call me?”
Her mother was on crutches and she wore sleep pants that had monkey face emojis on them. Her dyed magenta hair was crumpled on one side, as if she had forgotten to comb it out after she awoke.
“I’m hungry, if you want the truth. I was out refilling my bird feeders and thought I smelled pancakes coming from this direction.”
“I wish you would let me refill your bird feeders,” Rosie fussed. “The doctor says no weight-bearing for at least a month. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“The doctor doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” her mother grumbled. “I’m fine.”
Sylvia was not fine. She had a compound ankle fracture that had already required one surgery and might possibly need another.
“I planned to drop some pancakes at your cottage before we head to the bookstore.”
“Now you don’t have to, since I’m here.” She moved into the room, maneuvering carefully on her crutches.
“Hi, Granny Sylvie!” Olive beamed at her great-grandmother, her face sticky with syrup.
Sylvia grinned back at her. “Olive, darling. How wonderful to see you this beautiful morning. How did I get so lucky to see you two days in a row?”
“Guess what? You can see me every day now.”
“Aren’t I truly a lucky duck, then?”
“You’re not a duck.” Olive chortled. “You’re a grandma.”
“A grandma who needs to sit down,” Emma said. Rosie’s daughter pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for her grandmother. “Here you go.”
The older woman settled heavily into the chair, her leg outstretched in front of her.
“That’s better. Who would have guessed one silly moment out of your life could have such lasting consequences?”
Anyone with a shred of common sense could have guessed. A seventy-two-year-old woman with mild osteoporosis had no business even beingnearroller skates, forget about putting them on.
But Sylvia never asked advice before embarking on her escapades, she simply plowed forward. Or skated forward, in this case.
“Here you are, Mom,” she said, putting a plate stacked with three fluffy blueberry pancakes in front of her. “And here’s the syrup. What can I get you to drink?”
“Water is fine,” Sylvia said, then sent her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose you have any bacon to go with this, do you?”
“I do, but I would rather not cook it right now.”
“Why not? Bacon goes perfectly with pancakes on a beautiful Sunday morning.”
Rosie sighed, sending a meaningful look at the other two people in the kitchen. “Emma and Olive are vegetarians, remember?”
Emma rolled her eyes, almost as if she were fifteen years old again. “You can eat meat in front of me, Mom. I won’t have a fit of the vapors.”
“I don’t need bacon.” Sylvia looked contrite. “I’ll be fine. If I need more protein, I’ll have a yogurt or something.”