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and that he can’t count on me for anything for the rest of my life.” Her emphatic tone brooked no argument. Her daughter-in-law closed the door silently and went to give her husband the message. The gala was to raise funds for the Belasco Foundation and was the most important event of the year, putting the family’s ability to attract donors to the test. The waiters were putting the finishing touches to the tables, the cooks were busy with the banquet, and the chamber orchestra musicians were tuning their instruments. Each year, Alma gave a short speech that was always more or less the same. Afterward she posed for photographs with the most important benefactors and spoke to the press. That was all that was asked of her: the rest was handled by Larry, her son. That night they had to make do without her.
    The dramatic changes started the next day. Alma began to pack her bags and decided that very little of what she had would be of any use to her in her new life. She had to simplify. First she went shopping, and then got together with her accountant and her lawyer. She allotted herself a modest pension, handed the rest of her wealth over to Larry without instructions as to how he should spend it, and announced she would be going to live at Lark House. In order to avoid the waiting list she purchased the right to become a resident from an anthropologist, who for the right price was willing to wait a few more years. No one in the Belasco family had ever heard of the place.
    â€œIt’s a rest home,” said Alma vaguely.
    â€œA nursing home?” asked Larry with alarm.
    â€œMore or less. I want to live the time I have left without complications or burdens.”
    â€œBurdens! I hope you don’t mean us!”
    â€œAnd what are we going to tell people?” exclaimed Doris.
    â€œThat I’m old and crazy. That wouldn’t be far off the mark,” Alma replied.
    The chauffeur drove her there with her cat and two suitcases. A week later, Alma renewed a driving license that she hadn’t needed in decades and bought a lime-green Smart car. It was so tiny and light that once, when it was parked on the street, three mischievous youths tipped it on its roof and left it with its wheels in the air like an upended tortoise. Her reason for choosing it was that the garish color made it visible for other drivers, and its small size meant that if by some misfortune she ran someone over, she would most likely not kill them. It was like driving a cross between a bicycle and a wheelchair.
    â€œI think my grandmother has serious health problems, Irina,” Seth told her. “And she shut herself up in Lark House out of a sense of pride, so that no one would find out.”
    â€œIf that were the case, she’d be dead by now. Besides, no one shuts themselves up in Lark House, it’s an open community where people come and go as they like. That’s why we don’t admit people suffering from Alzheimer’s, who might get out and wander off.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what scares me. My grandmother could get lost on one of her excursions.”
    â€œShe always comes back. She knows where she’s going, and I don’t think she goes there alone.”
    â€œThen who does she go with? A boyfriend? You can’t possibly think my grandmother stays at hotels with a lover!” Seth said mockingly, but Irina’s serious expression cut his laughter short.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œShe’s ancient!”
    â€œIt’s all relative. She’s old, not ancient. In Lark House, Alma is considered young. Besides, love can strike at any age. Voigt thinks it’s good to fall in love when you’re old: it keeps you healthy and wards off depression.”
    â€œHow do old people do it? In bed, I mean?” asked Seth.
    â€œTaking their time, I suppose. You’d have to ask your grandmother that,” Irina responded.
    Seth soon succeeded in winning Irina over,