One held containers of soup, homemade preserves, and fruit compote. The other was packed with hand-knit booties, little caps, a soft blanket, and enough homemade dumplings to keep two tired parents fed for days. Lydia had made sure they wouldn’t go hungry.
Marianne opened the door in a comfortable lounge set, holding baby Sophie carefully in her arms. “Oh, Mom, you didn’t have to carry all that,” she said. “Hush, honey, hush,” Lydia said firmly.
She marched into the beautiful apartment and set the heavy bags down on the floor like she owned the place. “You need all of this right now.” Then she looked around properly in the daylight and let out a soft gasp.
“Good heavens. I’d only seen this place at night before. In daylight—it looks like a palace.” She walked carefully into the living room and touched the expensive sofa and glass coffee table with reverence.
Then her eyes moved to the large painting on the wall. “Is that… is that an actual original?” she asked cautiously. “It is,” Marianne said with a smile.
“A well-known contemporary American artist.” Lydia crossed herself out of habit and then laughed at herself. “Lord help me, I almost clipped it with a bag full of dumplings.”
Then she tiptoed over to the stylish crib where little Sophie slept peacefully. Lydia stood there for a long time looking at her granddaughter, and then, unable to help herself, started crying again—this time from happiness. “And I knitted her a simple little wool cap with my own hands,” she said.
“Thought maybe it would come in handy. And here her crib probably costs more than my little lake cabin.” Marianne wrapped an arm around her mother-in-law’s shoulders with genuine affection…
