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has already told me she can’t afford lessons this year. The twenty-five cents a day is all she can manage and I don’t even know how long that’s going to last. But it’s way too embarrassing to tell Joe that. So I just shrug and say, “I’ll think about it.”
    On the way out, I squeeze through a bunch of kids who are lined up to pay to come in. They’re noisier than usual and the boys are pushing and shoving each other. I suddenly remember that today is the last day of school and it’s now summer holidays. Cripes! Now I won’t have the pool and Joe to myself anymore.
    I get off the bus a few blocks before my stop because I feel like walking. The sun is finally out. It’s warm and the air smells like flowers and mown grass. I love summer.
    Then I get opposite the park and spot Mom.
    She’s perched on her usual bench, staring at a bunch of girls who are sitting cross-legged in a circle on the grass. They’re all girls from my school.
    That nasty Barbara Porter is right in the middle, waving her arms around as she tells a story.
    Any minute, they’re going to look up and see this crazy woman watching them.
    What if they figure out she’s my mother?
    I break into a run. I don’t breathe normally again until I am safely inside our apartment.
    I dump my wet towel and bathing suit in the bathroom sink. I rinse my hair in the shower and then go into the living room and plunk down in Granny’s recliner.
    I tilt Granny’s chair back and remember how I had to beg for turns to sit in it. Granny hated the way I would make the chair crash back and forth, like a ship in the sea.
    I gaze around the room. It looks exactly like it did when Granny was alive: cluttered with ornaments and lace doilies and spindly tables. When I was little and we visited Granny, Mom was always afraid I would break something. Every Sunday, Granny lifted down all her Royal Doulton china figurines from the tall cabinet in the corner of the living room. She set them on the dining room table and dusted each one with a soft cloth. When I turned seven, she said I was old enough to help.
    As we dusted, Granny told me the story of when she got each one. I fell in love with them. The Balloon Man with his bundle of colorful balloons, The Shepherd with a tiny lamb, Suzette holding up her flowered pink dress. Granny saved up from her pension checks and bought a new one each year.
    They haven’t been dusted for weeks. Granny would feel terrible. I find the dusting cloth and then I take the figurines out of the cabinet and put them on the dining room table, one at a time. I have to get a chair to stand on to reach Shy Anne and The Lady of the Fan,who are on the top shelf.
    The chair is wobbly and I’m teetering a bit and I can feel Granny’s sharp eyes on me.
    That’s when I spot it.
    A long, white envelope, leaning against the back of the cabinet behind Shy Anne.
    I slide it out with my fingers.
    On the front, in Granny’s handwriting, are the words Sun Life Insurance Policy.
    Dear Grace,
    I found the life insurance policy!!!!
    Five thousand dollars!!!!
    We’re RICH RICH RICH!!!!
    Mom was at the park but as soon as she got home she phoned Granny’s lawyer, Mr. Pinn. He was just leaving work for the weekend, but he said he’d call her on Saturday since it was so important.
    Then we got all dressed up and went to Jake’s Steakhouse to celebrate.
    â€œFive thousand dollars,” Mom sighed. “That’ll keep the wolves from the door.”
    That’s what Granny used to say every time her old age pension check came in the mail.
    For a few minutes, a cloud slid over everything. I could tell Mom was remembering too.
    It’s just too darn awful that getting the life insurance means that Granny had to die. But Mom says that Granny would want us to be happy.

    Your best friend,
    Hope

    â€¢ • • • •

    Dear Grace,
    Mr. Pinn took Mom to a fancy