“So am I.”

“For leaving me with Elaine.”

“She asked Elaine to care for you.”

“She didn’t come back.”

“She tried.”

“Then she died.”

“Yes.”

Sophie looked at the stone. “That’s not fair.”

“No.”

Margaret stood beside her, leaving enough room between them for Sophie to step away if she wanted.

Renee placed her hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

After a while, Sophie reached into her coat and touched the pendant at her throat.

“I thought it was just something my mother wore,” she said.

“It was.”

“Now everyone says it means something.”

“It can mean whatever you decide.”

Sophie nodded.

She did not call Margaret Grandma that day.

She did not take her hand.

But when they left the cemetery, she asked whether Margaret would like to get lunch with them.

Margaret said yes.

They went to a diner in Queens. The booths were cracked red vinyl, and the coffee tasted bitter. Renee ordered pancakes. Sophie ordered a grilled cheese.

Margaret looked at the menu, then set it down.

“What would you like?” Sophie asked.

“Coffee is fine.”

“You came all the way here. Get something.”

Margaret smiled faintly. “All right. Eggs and toast.”

Sophie glanced at her. “You always do what people tell you?”

“Not usually.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

The three of them laughed, softly and briefly.

They talked about the weather, Sophie’s classes, and Renee’s garden. Nobody mentioned the gala until the food arrived.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you,” Margaret said.

Sophie looked up. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel trapped.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I thought knowing the truth gave me a claim on you.”

Sophie set her sandwich down. “You did?”

“I did. For a few minutes.”

“What changed?”

“You told me no.”

“That was enough?”

“It had to be.”

Sophie thought about that. “My mother used to say powerful people only listen when you make it inconvenient.”

“She was right.”

“You listen now?”

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t the same as changing.”

“No.”

Sophie picked up her sandwich again. “Then we’ll see.”

The years ahead did not become simple.

Margaret and Sophie met once a month at first. Some visits were warm. Others were awkward. Sometimes Sophie cancelled, and Margaret accepted it without asking for another date.

Sophie asked about Evelyn in small pieces. She wanted to know her favorite song, whether she liked school, and why she had kept the necklace.

Margaret answered what she knew. When she didn’t know, she said so.

She never filled a silence with a guess.

In return, Sophie told Margaret about Elaine: the way she burned toast, the way she sang off-key in the car, and the way she stayed up all night when Sophie had the flu.

“She was my mother,” Sophie said once.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I’m learning.”

“Good.”

Margaret offered to pay Sophie’s college tuition. Sophie refused.

“I have financial aid,” she said.

“I know.”

“Then why offer?”

“Because I can.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Then tell me what would be enough.”

“Nothing right now.”

“Okay.”

Margaret did not press.

A year after the gala, Sophie earned her first semester’s grades. She showed them to Renee before anyone else.

Then she sent Margaret a photograph of the report, without a message.

Margaret called.

“Can I congratulate you?”

“You can.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“Your choice.”

Sophie paused. “A diner?”

“A diner.”

“Not a gala.”

“Not a gala.”

They met at the same Queens diner. This time, Margaret arrived ten minutes late because her driver had taken the wrong exit.

Sophie teased her about it.

“I could have taken the subway,” Margaret said.

“Could you?”

“I know how.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Margaret smiled. “Maybe you can teach me.”

They ate fries and talked about classes. Sophie told her she might study nursing after finishing her first year.

Margaret listened. She did not offer to create a scholarship in her name.

Ce soir-là, arrivés sur le trottoir, Sophie sortit le pendentif de sous son chemisier et le plaça contre le lampadaire.

« J’ai pensé te le donner », dit-elle.

Margaret resta immobile.

«Vous n’êtes pas obligé.»

“Je sais.”

« Cela appartenait à votre mère. »

« C’est pourquoi je veux le garder. »

Margaret acquiesça.

Sophie retourna le pendentif. « Mais je veux que tu le tiennes une minute. »

Elle le déposa dans la paume de la main de Margaret.

L’argent était frais contre sa peau. Margaret suivit du pouce la vieille égratignure.

« Je me souviens du jour où elle a eu cette marque », a-t-elle dit.

“Comment?”

« Elle l’a accroché à la fermeture éclair de son manteau. Elle était furieuse pendant une dizaine de minutes, puis elle a ri d’elle-même. »

« Quel était le son de son rire ? »