they let her. She was still totally clear-headed, and gave them sound advice when they asked her. She was practical and down to earth, and generous of spirit. She still read the newspaper every day, and everything she could lay her hands on, and she had taken computer classes in her eighties. There was nothing old-fashioned about her, except her ethics. Her values were very clear, but she had a sensible view of things too. She told them to follow the most reasonable course, with as little damage as possible to all concerned. She understood the gray shadings of life, and the things one had to do to compromise sometimes. She was never judgmental, and had told them all that forgiveness was always the right answer. And she applied that to her own life as well. She held no grudge against those who had disappointed or hurt her. And Granibelle was nobody’s fool. It had been nearly impossible to pull the wool over her eyes when they were children.
“We had a great time, Granibelle,” Liz confirmed, sitting beside her in the living room, while tea was served from a large silver tray. “What have you been up to?”
“I played poker with some friends yesterday, and won twenty dollars.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it and she giggled. “I went to a wonderful Mozart concert in New York last week, but I couldn’t get anyone to go with me.” Olivia provided a car and driver for her outings, whenever Maribelle wanted one. “Most of my friends just don’t like classical music.” And neither did her grandchildren, except Phillip. “Cass came to visit me when you were all away. She looks awfully thin to me, but she seems happy. She brought me the latest CDs of all her clients. Some of it is really very good.” She loved to play cards and gamble, and had organized a trip to Atlantic City among some of her friends at the residence. She was always busy, engaged, and up to minor mischief.
“One of these days, you’re going to get thrown out of here, for turning it into a casino,” Liz warned her with a chuckle.
“They’re actually very nice about it,” Maribelle reassured her. “I play bridge on Tuesdays with the director.” She was sharp as the proverbial tack, and interested in all their lives. Liz told her about her new manuscript then, and the reaction of her new agent. “I don’t think Sarah sees beyond the kind of literature she teaches. I recommended three books to her last year, and she hated all of them. I think it’s a good sign that she didn’t like yours,” Granibelle said sensibly. “Your mother told me she loved it. You’ll have to e-mail me a copy. I can download it on my computer.” Liz looked at her in amazement. It was like talking to a contemporary. Maribelle loved having all the latest gadgets.
They spent two wonderful hours together, catching up, talking about the trip, and Maribelle mentioned that Olivia was coming out to see her that weekend. “She still works too hard, but I really think it will keep her young forever. There’s no point slowing down—your mind just slows down with it. And what are you going to be writing next?” she asked with interest. Liz hadn’t thought about it yet. It had taken her three years to come up with this one, even if she wrote it in six weeks. Granibelle was never idle, and had never been physically or intellectually lazy. She set an example to them all, and Liz knew her mother was a great deal like her. She couldn’t imagine her mother slowing down either. She had stopped expecting that years before. And at seventy, she was no different than she had been at forty or fifty, just like her own mother. None of them could believe that their mother had just turned seventy. She’d made very little fuss about it on the boat, it was a birthday like any other. Olivia said she didn’t like the sound of the number, but she certainly didn’t look it. And it was just as impossible to believe that Maribelle was ninety-five. They were all sure she’d easily reach a hundred. Time had stood still for her. They were good genes for all of them to inherit.
Liz had brought her a stack of new magazines and left them with her. Maribelle subscribed to some of them, like Time, Newsweek, and Fortune, but she loved foreign