Page 57 of The Close-Up
She turns to Simon and hugs him with her free arm. When they break apart, she cups her hand over his cheek. “So good to see you, sweetie.”
I can’t help but smile at the sweetness and love in their exchange.
“Smells yummy,” he says.
Barbara gestures in the direction of the kitchen. “You two go say hi to Grandma. I’m going to get a vase for these lovely flowers.”
She heads down the hall and I follow Simon through the cozily decorated living room. In addition to the leather sofa is a plush recliner and what looks like an antique mahogany coffee table. There’s a flat-screen TV sitting over a brick fireplace on the far side of the living room. The hardwood floors creak softly as we walk.
Framed photos dot the walls. Simon stares at me from each stage of his life so far: chunky baby, adorable toddler, sporty kiddo with missing front teeth, tall and broody teenager, then college hunk. My eyes fixate on the photo of him on a nearby shelf, where he’s sitting on a beach with his shirt off, his light brown hair shaggy and soaked, beaming at the camera. Judging by the youthful look on his face, that was taken during his prime camming days.
I swallow back all the memories my brain aches to conjure up as we enter the kitchen. It’s a long and narrow design, with one end where the sink and appliances are and the other end the dining area. Simon’s grandma Miriam stands at the stove, her back to us. She’s a tiny thing, nearly a foot shorter than Simon, with a slight frame. Her brownish-gray hair is in wavy curls today, and she’s wearing a blue apron over dark leggings and a sweater. She’s stirring what looks like marinara sauce at the stove while shuffling her feet in place, like she’s dancing to music only she can hear. It makes me smile.
“Hey, Grandma,” Simon says, his voice loud.
Miriam spins around, her eyes wide when she looks at us. “Peanut!”
She pulls him down into a hug.
“I got new batteries for my hearing aid so you can talk to me at your regular volume,” she says.
“That’s great,” Simon says before introducing me to her.
I stick out my hand for a handshake, but she waves it away. “Only hugs in this house.”
I chuckle as she wraps her arms around me. When she releases me, she keeps hold of my hands.
“Well, that’s a lovely dress,” she says, scanning the casual sundress I’m wearing. “Would you believe I had a dress a lot like that when I was your age?”
“I bet you looked lovely in it,” I say with a smile.
“Oh I did. I was a looker back in my day.”
Both Simon and I chuckle.
“Mom, look at the flowers Naomi brought us!” Barbara says from behind us.
She sets them on top of the dining room table, which is right next to a sliding glass door.
Miriam spins around. “Oh how beautiful!” She pats my arm. “Naomi, honey, you really shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to. I can’t wait to try your ravioli.”
She beams, then directs us to sit down at the table.
“It’s a good thing that dinner’s almost done.” He points his thumb at me. “This one hasn’t eaten much all day and she gets hangry if she has to wait long for food.”
I give his arm a light shove. “That’s not true at all. I can be patient.”
Both Miriam and Barbara chuckle.
“Oh honey, don’t you worry,” Miriam hollers from the stove. “I’m a beast when I haven’t eaten. Or when I miss my afternoon nap.”
“She’s a beast too.”
I roll my eyes as I laugh at Simon. Barbara walks over and musses his hair with a hand.
“You stop giving her a hard time already,” she says good-naturedly.
