Free The Good Life by Susan Kietzman

helped Sam out of his coat and then steered him to a window seat cushion, onto which he slowly lowered himself.
    “Yes,” said Ann, giddy with the evening’s early successes. “Our Emma has outdone herself, once again.” Emma, who was putting the finishing touches on the salad, turned from her task and smiled.
    “Hello, Emma,” said Eileen, walking toward her and extending her hand. “It’s been a long time.”
    “Yes,” said Emma, wiping her hands on her apron before taking Eileen’s hand and shaking it once. The women, about the same age, took one another in with swift glances—checking for color in the face and eyes, stooped posture, or swollen ankles—quickly calculating physical strength and mental acuity. “It’s good to have you here. I’ve always liked cooking for a crowd.”
    “Oh, did you make our dinner?” asked Eileen, kidding her.
    “I’m happy for the opportunity,” said Emma, returning her attention and hands to the salad. Her knuckles, Eileen noticed, were plagued with osteoarthritis. Emma had stopped trying to hide this deformity, as her fingers were involved, and therefore visible, in every task she performed, from finely mincing scallions to guiding a dust cloth around the curves and corners of Ann’s furniture.
    “And I’m happy, too,” said Ann. “All I can do well in the kitchen is boil water.”
    “That’s not true,” said Eileen. “You used to be quite a good cook.”
    “That,” said Ann, taking a sip from her half-empty glass of wine, “was a long time ago.”
    “I’d like to say something,” said Sam abruptly from across the room. Eileen and Ann turned to look at him. For a moment, Ann had forgotten he was there. “This is a lovely place we’re staying in.”
    “Yes,” said Eileen, going to him and patting his back. “We’re lucky to be here.”
    “Hi, Gran,” said Lauren, twirling a strand of her black hair around her index finger in the kitchen doorway.
    “Lauren!” said Eileen, leaving Sam and crossing the kitchen to hug her granddaughter. “How nice to see you, dear. Did you have a good day?”
    “I did,” said Lauren. “How was your trip here?”
    “Fine,” said Eileen. “You’re sweet to ask. Come say hello to your grandfather.” Lauren walked with Eileen to the window, where Sam was still sitting, looking up at them. “Sam, you remember Lauren, your granddaughter.” Sam looked at Lauren blankly.
    “It’s your granddaughter, Lauren,” Eileen said again.
    “Well, so it is,” said Sam, struggling to get up as he extended his hand. “Hello, Lauren.”
    “Don’t get up, dear,” said Eileen. “It’s okay.”
    Lauren took his dry hand and gave it a gentle shake. As soon as he let go, she stepped backward and then quickly turned to face her mother. “Where’s Nate?” she asked.
    “Late,” said Ann, looking at her watch. “We’re eating in five minutes.”
    “Well,” said Mike, walking into the kitchen. “I hear we have company.”
    “Hello, Mike,” said Eileen, smiling at her son-in-law. “You look younger every time I see you.”
    “It’s your daughter,” said Mike, giving Eileen a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “She keeps me young.”
    “I’ll bet she keeps you hopping,” said Eileen.
    “That, too,” said Mike, turning to look at his father-in-law. “Hello, Sam.”
    “Hello, young fellow,” said Sam, brightly. “Thanks for having us to the party.”
    “You can come to our parties anytime,” said Mike, taking Sam’s hand and shaking it. “How was your trip out?”
    “Excellent,” said Sam. “The food was delicious.”
    “That’s good to hear,” said Mike. “Let’s move into the dining room because I know we’ve got more delicious food coming.”
    “Nate’s not here yet,” said Ann.
    “Then Nate will join us when he arrives,” said Mike, escorting his mother-in-law into the dining room. When she was seated, Mike walked back into the kitchen to get Sam. Helping him out of the chair was like