Bryce blinked.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t one.”
That made me laugh.
He smiled too.
Then his attention returned to the suitcase.
“Here, let me get that for you.”
He reached toward it.
Grandma’s hand shot out.
She slapped his hand away.
“Nobody touches that.”
The attendants froze.
Bryce pulled his hand back.
“Okay.”
Grandma’s expression did not soften.
“I mean it.”
“I got it.”
“Good.”
I stared at her.
There was force behind the words.
Not annoyance.
Not stubbornness.
Something sharper.
The suitcase came inside still strapped to the wheelchair.
We moved Grandma into the living room where she could see most of the party.
Relatives gathered around her immediately.
Everyone wanted to hug her.
Everyone wanted a photograph.
Everyone wanted to ask how she felt.
She tolerated it with visible impatience.
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