Page 74 of Just Beachy

“My pleasure.” I grin back. “I guess I’ll have to give that some thought.”

Oprah falls silent for a beat. Then a smile stretches across her face, and she shoots us, and the audience, a wink. “Hmmm,” she muses. “What do you think? Should I invite the Drakes to come on the show so that they can explain their actions?”

Thirty-Five

It takes only a matterof days after Oprah’s interview and the article in theNew York Timesfor the media and art world to rally around Grand. There are headlines and TV stories. We trend on social media.

Invitations to appear on talk shows both local and national continue to flood in. Jay Leno makes Grand the subject of man-on-the-street interviews, and a surprising number of “people on the street” recognize Grand’s name.Saturday Night Liveinvites her to be a guest host.

Museums, large and small, all over the country and in parts of Europe, want to organize exhibits aroundThe Madonna. The Dalí is interested in including it in a special exhibit featuring female artists whose work was initially ascribed to, or claimed by, male artists.

I get a lot of attention, too, and for the first time since Cassie Everheart was sent to rehab and booted offMurder 101, the attention is positive. At least for the moment, Grandand I are media darlings. The press is outside again in full force, but at least this time they’re polite and respectful.

It takes almost ten days for things to completely die down. But finally, the phone stops ringing. No one’s camped outside. It’s safe to go to Pass-a-Grille. The grocery store. Out for a walk.

• • •

At Casas deFlores’ next Friday night mixer, it’s Grand’s autograph people are seeking. I’m still in bed the next morning when my mother calls, which is why I’m yawning when I answer.

“I’m sorry, darling. Did I wake you?”

I glance down at my phone and attempt to hold back another yawn. “No, I’m just kind of lying here.” I yawn, struggling to sit up. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. But I’ve been trying to reach your grandmother. Is she there?”

“Hold on. Let me go check.” I yawn again as silently as I can. Then I follow the smell of coffee downstairs, where I find Grand in the kitchen.

Mercifully Grand pours me a cup and places it on the counter in front of me.

“I’ve got Grand right here. Shall I hand her my phone? Or do you want to call back?”

I take a long, lovely sip, careful not to slurp.

“Why don’t you put me on speaker? There’s something I need to run by her. And I’m hoping you’ll help make sure she listens.”

My grandmother rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest when I set my phone on the kitchen counter and put it on speaker. “We’re both here, Mom.”

“Great. Good morning, Mother.”

“Good morning, Natalie,” Grand replies. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. We’ve had an incredibly nice patch of weather, today included.”

“That’s nice.” Grand raises an eyebrow in my direction, and I shrug.

“So,” Mom says. “I’m calling because a Realtor I know has clients who seem to have fallen in love with your home, at least from the outside. She’s asked for permission to show your house to them and wanted to know if you’d consider selling if the price is right.”

“Interesting.” Grand’s tone is droll. “The last time the subject of selling my house came up, you insisted that I hold on to it in case I wanted to move back.”

There’s a brief silence. “Yes, I know,” my mother finally concedes. “But you’ve made it clear that you have no intention of ever doing that.” There’s another brief pause. “And the way you’ve handled everything that’s happened down there has, well, I guess it’s helped me see just how capable you still are.”

“Imagine that.” Grand’s reply is more than a little sarcastic, but she’s clearly pleased by the admission.

“Yes, well. In the meantime, the post office has delivered the last of your mail that was on hold. I’ve packaged it up and am overnighting it down to you.”

“Thank you, Natalie. I appreciate it.”

“But there’s no pressure, you know, about your house, I mean. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

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