I agreed.
So I stood in my hallway holding a stack of paper plates while my mother went back into the kitchen with Cecilia.
It was ridiculous that I was hiding around a corner in my own house, but I wanted to hear Cecilia’s answer before she could dress it up.
My mother asked gently, “I noticed you brought birthday presents for Alice, but not Milo. Was there something that got left behind?”
Cecilia didn’t hesitate.
“He’s our granddaughter’s brother. He isn’t our grandson.”
My grip tightened on the paper plates.
My mother was silent for a second.
Then she said, “Ethan has raised that boy since he was three.”
“I know,” Cecilia said.
“He’s called Ethan Dad since he was five.”
“I know that too.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
Cecilia sighed as though my mother were making something simple unnecessarily complicated.
“Milo has his own grandparents. We’re always polite to him. But Alice is our granddaughter. She’s Ethan’s child. Our girl deserves the best we can do for her.”
