"Grandma, don't tire yourself—"
"I'm afraid there isn't time." A small, quiet laugh. "When your grandfather went, I never got to say even one last thing to him. Hope, you be good to yourself."
My tears fell.
"Hope, that boy Les… is he good to you?"
I didn't answer.
"Hope."
Les walked up behind me.
"Give me your phone a sec," he said. "Lila's is dead. She's got a work message to send."
I gripped the phone tighter and turned my back to him.
"I'm on a call. My grandmother—"
"Yeah, I know." He stepped around in front of me. "One minute. She'll send it and I'll hand it right back."
"No."
Les's brow creased.
On the other end, Grandma was saying, "Hope? Hope, are you still there?"
"Hope." His voice went low, the way it did when he'd decided the conversation was over. "This client matters to Lila. It could decide whether she makes full-time."
"I said no."
Lila had followed him over at some point. She stood behind Les, eyes rimmed red.
"Hope… just one second… please, I'm desperate…" Her voice cracked, tears sliding down. "I won't keep it long… I'm begging you…"
Les looked at her tears, then turned back to me. His expression changed.
"Give it to me."
He reached out.
I pressed the phone behind my back.