Jenny, her body still heavy and swollen, was sitting with Beth at the kitchen table. Down the hall in the living room I could see the two pink bassinets.
“I’m not kidding,” Jenny was saying, “her mind is just going wacky since I’ve had the twins. She’s making me so damn nervous . . .”
“Take it easy,” Beth said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Grandma,” Beth said.
“Do you know what she did yesterday?” said Jenny. “She sat in the living room and cried because Hill didn’t say hello to her and she thought that meant no one wanted her here. Mother had to give her an alcohol rub and put her to bed like a baby. She’s Mother’s baby now. Isn’t that funny?”
“It’s her age,” Beth said. “Her arteries are hardening.”
“No,” Jenny said, “it’s simply attention. Since the twins came, she’s simply not getting enough attention. She makes me so damn mad! She hasn’t even once asked to hold them! Not once!”
“I think I’ll go take a look,” I said.
I went down the hall into the living room. The babies were asleep, one on its stomach, its tiny fists clenched, the other on its back, its little eyes wrinkled like an old woman’s.
As I came back in the kitchen, Jenny wanted to know what I thought.
“They’re perfect,” I said. “You’re a lovely girl.”
She smiled and brushed the hair back off her face. Beth gave me a wink.