Grandma stopped beside it.
She rested her fingertips against the board.
Vanessa took a sharp breath.
“Pearl, what are you doing?”
Grandma studied the tiny sugar-glass windows.
“Your house is beautiful, Vanessa.”
“Thank you.”
“How long did it take you?”
“Eleven days.”
Grandma nodded slowly.
“Eleven days is a great deal of work.”
Vanessa moved closer.
“Please don’t touch it.”
Grandma looked directly at her.
“And you love it?”
“Of course I love it.”
Grandma glanced toward the living room, where twenty-two years of memories lay broken around my feet.
Then she curled her fingers around the silver board.
“Then perhaps you’ll understand.”
She slid the mansion one inch toward the countertop’s edge.
Vanessa’s face went white.
“PEARL, DON’T!”
Grandma looked her straight in the eyes.
And in a voice so calm that it frightened even me, she whispered one word.
“Accident.”
