“Can I tell you all something?” Hannah asked.
“Of course you can,” Boop said. Hannah had been waiting hours to say whatever was next.
“You have to swear not to tell anyone.”
“Who are we going to tell?” Doris asked.
“That’s not the point. Do you swear?”
Boop would never betray a confidence, but a prickle traveled down her neck and across her shoulders, her personal three-alarm warning.
“We are the best secret keepers on the planet,” Georgia said.
“Troubles are better out than in,” Boop said. “You know that.” She trembled. Oh Hannah, what is going on?
“Clark proposed,” Hannah said.
“Clark proposed what?” Boop knew, but she wanted to hear Hannah say it.
“He wants to get married?” Doris clasped her hands with glee. “How wonderful. Mazel tov, dear.”
Hannah stared at Boop. “I said I’d think about it.”
Boop hadn’t been shy about her opinion of Clark. He’d gone to law school and now he was a hippie artist or something.
“You didn’t say yes?” Doris asked.
“Thank God,” Boop and Georgia said in unison.
Hannah was young. Twenty-six. She didn’t need to settle down to something so official, so permanent; she should explore the world and her own dreams before committing to marriage.
“Maybe Clark isn’t the one,” Boop said.
Hannah leaned forward. “Is there such a thing?”
“Absolutely,” Doris said.
“How can you say that?” Georgia asked. “You’ve been married five times.”
“And each time he was the one.”
“How did you know?” Hannah asked.
“I have a sixth sense,” Doris said.
“You’re being logical, Hannah,” Boop said. “Good for you.” She knew deep inside that logic was not the preferred method of handling one’s heart. She also knew sometimes it was best. “Doris is a hopeless romantic.”
“I am nothing of the kind,” Doris said. “I’m a hopeful romantic.”
Hannah reached out to Boop. “I need your advice.” She glanced at Georgia and Doris. “And yours too.”
“If you have doubts, that speaks volumes,” Boop said.
“And maybe not,” Georgia said. “Sometimes a leap of faith is warranted.”
“A marriage shouldn’t be a leap of faith,” Boop said.
Georgia opened her eyes wide. “Is that so?”
“I have a list of pros and cons,” Hannah said. She tugged a paper out of her back pocket and unfolded it four times.
Boop stood slowly and held out her hand. “May I?” Boop asked. At least she knew now what was bothering Hannah. Yes or no, this was the decision of a lifetime. But it was a choice, and it was Hannah’s choice alone.
She handed Boop the paper.
“Why I Should Marry Clark.” Boop glanced at her granddaughter. “Catchy title.”
“Just read it,” Georgia said.
Boop resisted the urge to yell that if you’re in love, you don’t need a list. If you’re in love, you don’t run away to your grandmother’s house. Boop now knew that Hannah would have shown up that day even if Stuart hadn’t tattled about having to leave voicemails.
Hannah had needed South Haven. Hannah had needed Boop.
“‘Number one: he’s kind to animals. Number two: he’s polite to waiters. Number three: he puts the toilet seat down.’ Hannah! Is this a joke?”
Hannah grabbed the paper. “No, it’s not a joke. These are fundamental character strengths. Well, maybe not the toilet seat, but it’s thoughtful.” She looked at her list. “He’s a talented artist. He likes independent films. He’s ambitious.”
“I don’t think he’s ambitious, dear,” Boop said.
“Oh right, he quit law school,” Doris said.
“No, it’s worse,” Boop said. “He graduated law school and quit a job at a law firm. That’s not very responsible.”
“What’s he doing now?” Georgia asked.
“He’s an artist,” Hannah said. “He’s following his dream.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, but don’t think he’s going to suddenly work a nine-to-five job and bring home a steady paycheck when he stopped doing that after just a year,” Boop said.
“He’s very passionate about building his sculptures. And the weekend craft fairs. A friend even commissioned him to build something for his backyard.”
Boop wanted her granddaughters to have security—the kind that she’d had with Marvin. But she also wanted them to have undeniable love—the kind where you don’t say “maybe” to a proposal.
“Are you in love with him, Hannah?” Doris asked. “I was deeply in love with each of my husbands.”
“With all due respect, Doris,” Georgia said, “Clark or no Clark, I think you’d agree five marriages is not the goal.”
“Of course it’s not,” Doris said. “But it has been a blessing.”
Boop crossed her arms. The choices she made long ago chilled her to the bone. “Are you in love with him, Hannah? Can you imagine yourself with anyone else for the next sixty years?”
“We’ve been together since freshman year of college. I love him.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Hannah folded her hands in her lap, something Boop’s grade school teachers would have asked of a class full of rowdy children to quiet them and command attention. Boop mimicked Hannah and set her hands in her lap.
“I’m not denying the value of friendship, or of loyalty, but those aren’t good enough reasons to marry someone,” Boop said.
“How about this?” Hannah coughed. “I am pregnant.” She enunciated each word as if Boop would be wont to understand. “Is that a good enough reason?”
“Oy vey,” Georgia said.
“Might be,” Doris said.
“This is awful!” Boop blurted out, though that wasn’t what she meant. Babies were wonderful, but Hannah wasn’t ready. Her life wasn’t ready. Boop wheezed and inhaled but couldn’t fill her lungs. Shallow breaths would make her dizzy but what choice did she have? She couldn’t hold her breath. The girls grabbed her hands.
“Breathe,” they both said.
Boop blew a slow stream of air. She inhaled through her nose and didn’t look at Hannah. This couldn’t be happening again.
In that moment everything changed. Moving away didn’t matter. Even Georgia and Doris didn’t matter. She wanted to scoop Hannah into her lap, brush the flyaway hair from her face, and tell her everything would be okay. Because it would be okay, and it would be fine, in time. Then Boop’s thoughts flipped to practical.
“Is the baby Clark’s? Have you been to
