Ryan and Eleanor were huddled together at the kitchen table, deep in discussion, when Jesse and I came back inside. Eleanor had her broken leg up on one of the chairs and Ryan was eanor had her broken leg up on one of the chairs and Ryan was adjusting a red and white quilt over her. The pattern looked exactly like its name, a bowtie.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

Eleanor looked up as if she had been caught doing something wrong. "Fine," she said stiffly. "Just waiting for you."

I looked at Jesse to see if he noticed the chill in the air, but he was looking through his wallet. He took out a piece of paper and put it on the table in front of Eleanor.

"That's a guy over in Nyack who does great remodeling work. He can probably start for you as soon as we're finished at the shop."

Eleanor studied the name on the paper. "Doesn't your brother-in-law do remodeling work in Nyack?"

"Yes, that's my brother-in-law… my ex-brother-in-law, I guess. He's a good worker."

She nodded. "Thanks for this. I'll give him a call."

Jesse turned his attention to Ryan. "You'll be available if I have any questions?"

"I'll be here."

"Here?" I said.

"He's staying with us for a few days," Eleanor said.

"In the house?" I said, now very confused.

"Your grandmother suggested I stay while this gets straightened out."

"Why? Jesse can always call you in New York if he has questions. " I looked to Jesse for confirmation.

"Absolutely," he jumped in. "As long as you're available at the number you gave me in New York, I can call with any questions. I'm sure you have to get back to work on Monday."

"It's fine," said Ryan, a little too insistently. "I can take a few days off to help around here and answer any questions you have."

"But…," I started.

My grandmother shifted in her seat. We had been talking over her head and it was clear she was making her presence known. "It's settled. It's my house and I've invited Ryan to spend a few days, which he agreed to."

She had spoken with the finality of a mother to her wayward toddlers. All three of us stood silent-unable to compete with her authority. Both Jesse and Ryan were looking to the floor, and I clenched my jaw and literally pressed my lips together so I wouldn't say anything I would regret in front of Jesse.

Eleanor just straightened the quilt on her lap and waited for one of us to challenge her. Finally, Jesse spoke.

"I need your prints, Nell," he said quietly, with a hint of apology in his voice.

I rolled up my sleeves, pressed my fingers one by one into the black ink and with Jesse guiding my hand, rolled each finger onto a blank piece of paper.

"I guess that's it, then," Jesse said. "I appreciate your cooperation."

"There was a quilt next to Marc's body," Eleanor said. "When can I get it back?"

"I don't know," Jesse said. "It had some blood on it. We'll need to keep it as evidence. Is it valuable?"

Eleanor shrugged. I knew that she was speaking of Grace's quilt, and I knew to my grandmother it was priceless. "Bring it back when you can," she said.

Ryan shifted his feet and looked up.

"I'll walk you out," he said to Jesse.

Jesse took the cue, nodding good-bye and walking toward the front door with Ryan.

Now that we were alone, I unclenched my jaw. As I opened my mouth to yell something clever about meddling grandmothers, Eleanor moved her broken leg and made an exaggerated groan.

"I didn't have a choice," she said as she adjusted in the chair and winced from pain. It was amazing how, now that I was angry, she was suddenly in more pain than she had been since the accident.

"You didn't have a choice," I repeated. "Do you think I believe that?"

"If you trust me, you do."

"If I trust you? To do what? Decide my life for me?" I was overreacting, and I knew it. But I couldn't stop myself.

Ryan stood in the doorway. "Nell," he started.

"No," my voice cracked. "I don't want to be manipulated by either of you anymore." I pushed Ryan out of the way and ran upstairs.

I slammed the door to the bedroom not once, but twice. I wanted to make sure that my grandmother got the point. I was well aware I was acting like a child, but Eleanor had to be equally aware she was treating me as one. It wasn't just that Ryan's presence was confusing, it was that my grandmother had decided for me that he should stay. I wanted her advice, not her interference.

I flopped on the bed, wrapping my quilt tightly around me. Eleanor always behaved as if she knew what was best for me. I suddenly realized Ryan had done the same thing. He'd introduced me to restaurants and people and a life that would be better for me than the life I'd been creating. I went along with him. Wasn't it time I decided what was best for me? I was willing to admit, but only to myself, that slamming doors wasn't exactly the best way to announce I could handle things from now on. But after everything that had happened, I was in no mood for rational discourse.

I could hear noises from downstairs, but I didn't know what was going on, and I wasn't about to venture out of the room to find out. I just lay on the bed with my quilt watching the sun outside.

I wasn't going to stay in the house, I decided. I needed space, and if Eleanor didn't understand that, then she could have Ryan as a houseguest, but she would have to live without me. I grabbed my cell and dialed my last loyal friend.

"Hey there, stranger," Amanda answered in her usual bouncy way.

"Can I sleep on your couch?"

"Anytime," she said immediately. "I thought you were staying at your grandmother's."

"I was. But I can't anymore."

I launched into a long and overly dramatic retelling of the events of the last twenty-four hours. How I kissed Marc. How Ryan showed up, fists flying. How Marc was found dead and I wasn't sure if Ryan had something to do with it. How I needed time and space and support, and was getting none of it from my grandmother, who had become Ryan's ally in the fight to win me back. If that was what Ryan was trying to do. I didn't really know what Ryan was trying to do.

"Do you want to get back together with Ryan?" Amanda interrupted.

Good question. Until yesterday, I had assumed the answer was yes. But I had also assumed it wasn't an option. But now with Ryan here, I wasn't sure.

"Do you think I should take him back?"

Amanda was silent.

"Are you still there?" I asked.

"I'm thinking," she finally said.

"Should I play some Jeopardy! music while you come up with your answer?"

"I think that Ryan hasn't been fair to you, and you should think about what you really want. If what you want is Ryan, you know I'll be behind you one hundred percent."

There it was, the coded warning of girlfriends everywhere: "If it's what you want (translated: it's a huge mistake) I'll be there for you (translated: I'll still listen to you whine about his faults, even though-to be clear-you are making a huge mistake).

"I need time," I said.

"Then take it." Amanda breathed heavily on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry."

"You're the one person who doesn't owe me an apology."

She didn't respond.