She took a deep breath before she asked, “What’s that?”

“I’d like to testify in court tomorrow and swear to the judge that you and dad don’t need to go to counseling. Your marriage is irretrievably broken. Again.”

She watched me for a long moment. “Wouldn’t that make you sad?”

“No. I would be happy to help you both move on.”

“I’ll call my lawyer, then. Thank you, Harper.” She reached across the table to stroke my hair out of my eyes. “Hey, do you have that pocket camera on you?”

“Yeah.” I pulled it out and handed it to her.

She pointed it at me and snapped a picture before I could hide.

“Ugh,” I said, putting my hands over my face.

“Uh-huh.” She peered at the view screen, admiring the shot she’d taken. Satisfied, she handed the camera back to me. “Be sure to print that picture so you don’t lose it as technology changes over the years. I promise you this: When you’re my age, you’ll look at it and think, ‘I was gorgeous, with or without glasses, no matter what I wore or how I did my hair. Why did I waste my time worrying about how I looked?’ ”

I snorted. “God, Mom, that’s something old people say.”

“Listen to me,” she said, patting the table for emphasis. “We old people are not making this shit up.”

*   *   *

A few minutes later, I rang Granddad’s doorbell and heard him walk to the door. He didn’t open it.

“Granddad,” I said.

“Who is it?” he barked.

“Three guesses.”

“I’m busy.” He took a few steps away.

“Granddad,” I called through the door, “did you kill someone?”

“When?”

“Recently,” I said. “Are you hiding a body in your house?”

“No.”

“Let me in to see for myself.”

“No.”

“You know what? You’re leading me to believe something is very wrong in there. If you don’t open this door right now, I’m calling the police.”

“Go ahead!”

I thought for a moment. “I’m calling Mom.”

The door opened just the width of the security chain.

“All the way,” I prompted him.

His face appeared in the opening. He glowered at me for a moment, then opened the door wide.

Before he could protest, I ducked under his arm and dashed for the back room he used as a studio. “Harper!” I heard him shout, but I’d already run though the studio doorway and seen what he didn’t want me to see. I screamed.

“Eeek!” the naked lady squeaked.

“I am so sorry,” I told her as I retreated into the hallway with my hand covering my eyes.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” she called. In a moment, she came through the doorway in a luxurious silk wrap. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore a lot of tasteful makeup. She was between Granddad’s age and Mom’s, I guessed, and her body was still beautiful. I could vouch for this, as I’d seen every inch of it. What hadn’t been showing when I burst in on her was depicted in Granddad’s paintings crowding the walls.

I extended my hand. “I’m Harper, the granddaughter.”

She shook my hand. “I’m Chantel, the nude.”

“Ha ha!” I said. “I beg your pardon. I was afraid Granddad was running an opium den or fight club or something back here. He’s been so secretive.”

“He’s the strong, silent type.” Chantel winked at me.

After backing out of that one, I returned to the front door, where Granddad was still scowling. “Granddad,” I told him, “you’re an artist. And you’re a man.”

“A grown man,” he added.

“Well said. And you’re within your rights to have Chantel pose nude in your studio. The only thing weird about this is that you are being so freaking weird about it!”

“I’m sixty-eight years old!” he shouted. “I’ll do what I damn well please!”

I sighed, frustrated. Granddad was right—he’d been weird for a long time. The likelihood was slim that he would change because I complained. But it was nice to know that if I turned out to be an old curmudgeon just like him, maybe I would keep a few happy secrets.

“I actually came to make sure you’re watching the weather,” I said. “The hurricane’s been downgraded to a tropical storm, but we’re supposed to get rain and maybe tornadoes tomorrow.”

“You think I don’t have a smart phone?”

I heard my voice rising, despite myself. “I have never laid eyes on your smart phone. You never let me in your house.” I took a deep breath to calm down. “Also, may I borrow your car? I’ll bring it back tomorrow after school.”

“No,” he said. “Same reason I didn’t want you to borrow it on Labor Day. Chantel and I may want to get ice cream later.”

I put my hands in my hair and pressed my lips together to keep from bursting into laughter, a yelling fit, or both. Granddad was being petty. But I was so relieved to find out it was because he was in love.

I cleared my throat. “May I please walk over and borrow your car before school tomorrow? I’ll bring it back as soon as class is over. Mom and Dad have a divorce hearing. Mom needs to be at the courthouse a lot longer than I do because of meetings with her lawyer. I don’t want to miss a whole day of school. I’m just testifying that their marriage is irretrievably broken.”