Lisa was back?
And she had contacted the girls without ever reaching out to me?
After the shock wore off, I invited her to our traditional Sunday dinner.
Part of me hoped time had changed her. Maybe she regretted her choices. Maybe she genuinely wanted to be a mother at last.
She arrived two hours late.
The moment she sat down, she said,
"I'd like to rebuild my relationship with the girls."
For a brief moment, I felt hopeful.
Then she continued.
"People keep asking why my daughters aren't part of my life. It's starting to look bad."
I stopped eating.
The fork in my hand never made it to my mouth.
I stared at her.
"So this has nothing to do with them? You're worried about how it reflects on you?"
Lisa simply shrugged.
"The girls understand. They don't have a problem with it."
Before I could respond, all three of my granddaughters pushed back their chairs and stood up.
Rose calmly picked up her glass.
"We don't mind, Mom," she said in a gentle voice. "But there are a few things we'd like to say."
For several seconds, I sat there completely confused, convinced I must have misunderstood what was happening.
But instead of giving the speech I expected, the girls did the one thing neither my daughter nor I SAW COMING.