When Quinn kicks her grandmother out of her fancy wedding over a plain, strange gift, she thinks she’s just protecting her perfect image. But loss has a way of revealing hard truths, and what she finds inside a tattered bag of walnuts will shatter her in ways she never saw coming.
I spent more time growing up in Grandma Rose’s house than my own. My parents, Laurie and Travis, were always busy, chasing money and climbing the social ladder. Meanwhile, Grandma’s little cottage sat on the edge of town, with its squeaky porch, lavender-scented doilies, and floorboards that creaked with every step.
To me, it felt like home.
Grandma Rose used to braid my hair before school, humming quietly as her fingers untangled my messy locks. The braids were never tight or flawless, but they felt special, like she’d woven love into them.
I’d sit cross-legged by her rocking chair while she sipped tea and read the newspaper to me. She skipped the sad or scary stories, sticking to the funny ones. Her laugh always came early, a warm, bubbling sound that made me giggle too, even if I didn’t get the joke.
