Chapter 1

1: 1

The day my grandson was born, my daughter-in-law, Katherine Manning, taped a booklet to the refrigerator door. Elderly Childcare Rules.

Fifty-two of them.

Disinfect three times before holding the baby. Report in advance before entering the nursery. Never taste the baby's food on your own.

Each violation carried a fine, anywhere from five hundred to a hundred thousand dollars.

I told myself she was just a nervous new mother, and for three years I gave way at every turn. Not only did I care for the child and keep house for free, I poured out my entire pension doing it.

That day my grandson had a fever, so I made cod porridge.

Afraid it was too hot for him, I lifted a small spoonful to test the temperature. The spoon never went back into the bowl.

Half an hour later, Katherine came rushing home with a screenshot from the nanny cam and called the whole family together for a "punishment meeting."

"Mom, you broke Rule Twenty-Seven, sneaking the baby's dedicated food. That's a fifty-thousand-dollar fine."

"And Rule Forty-One, mouth contact with the baby's food, endangering his health. Another fifty thousand."

Before I could say a word, my son had already weighed in.

"Mom, rules are rules."

"If we don't fine you hard today, who knows if you'll be mouth-feeding him tomorrow?"

At that, my son's mother-in-law let out a cold laugh.

"These rules are exactly for unsanitary country women like you."

I looked at them, and suddenly I smiled.

Since they loved rules so much.

Then from today on, the rent, the household expenses, and three years of nanny wages would all be settled by the rules too.

......

Katherine had deliberately zoomed in on the image, pointing at the spot on the spoon handle where I'd touched it.

"Mom, the evidence is right here. You're not going to try and deny it, are you?"

I looked at the photo and explained quietly.

"I only wanted to check if the porridge was too hot."

"I drank that spoonful myself and put the spoon in the sink. I never touched Job Delgado's bowl."

Katherine's face darkened.

"So you're saying the camera framed you?"

"I didn't say that."

"If it didn't frame you, then accept the fine."

She pushed her phone with the payment QR code across the table at me.

"A hundred thousand. Not a cent less."

I froze.

"You want to fine me a hundred thousand because I tasted one spoonful of porridge?"

Katherine frowned, her face full of impatience.

"This isn't about one spoonful. It's a matter of principle."

"If you'll touch the baby's porridge today, won't you use his bowl and spoon tomorrow?"

"Once the rules have a crack in them, how am I supposed to enforce anything after that?"

Job's little face was flushed with fever. He reached out and grabbed the hem of my shirt.

"Grandma, hold me."

I was just about to bend down when Katherine slapped my hand away.

"The punishment hasn't been decided yet. Don't touch the child."

Job burst into wailing sobs.

I instinctively moved to soothe him, but my son, Sebastian Delgado, stepped in front of me.

"Mom, Katherine's only doing this for the baby's sake."

"Don't go breaking the rules on purpose just because Job clings to you."

I stared at Sebastian, and all at once the man in front of me felt like a stranger.

Three years ago, Katherine had just given birth.

Sebastian couldn't even change a diaper.

The postpartum nurse suddenly raised her rate, and they couldn't bear to spend the money.

Sebastian knelt in front of me, begging me to stay and help.

He said just half a year.

Once they got back on their feet, they'd hire the best nanny and let me enjoy my retirement in peace.

That half year turned into three whole years.

When Job was newborn, he needed feeding every two hours.

Night after night, I never slept.

The baby had colic, and I'd walk him back and forth across the living room, half the night gone with each stretch.

By day there was laundry, groceries, mopping, and the postpartum meals to cook for Katherine.

The bottles, the sterilizer, the food processor, all of it bought with my pension.

Later, when Job started early classes, swim lessons, vaccinations, they got in the habit of holding out their hands to me for that too.

Every time, Sebastian would say,

"Mom, just cover it for us first."

"When the year-end bonus comes in, I'll pay you back all at once."

But three years passed, and I never saw a single cent.

Yet now, all I'd done was taste one spoonful of porridge, and they wanted to fine me a hundred thousand.

Katherine's mother, Leila Donaldson, sat dead center on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, cracking sunflower seeds.

"The child's running a fever and you're still craving a bite of that cod."

"That cod's over two hundred dollars a pound. You'd never buy it for yourself, so you can't go stealing the baby's, can you."

I turned my head and looked at her.

"I bought that cod."

Leila gave a cold laugh.

"Bought it for the baby, so it's the baby's."

Katherine picked Job up.

"Mom, old people carry a lot of germs, a lot of mouth problems too."

"I didn't make these rules to target you. I made them to protect Job."

"If you really loved your grandson, you'd own up to it yourself instead of piling up excuses."

What a fine thing, all for the child.

Every one of those fifty-two rules on the refrigerator began with "The elderly may not."

But Leila never disinfected when she walked in.

She kissed Job's cheek with her lipstick on, and Katherine laughed and took pictures, saying Grandma adored the boy.

She dug into a watermelon with Job's silver spoon, and no one made her pay a fine.

Last month she stuffed leftover health tonic into Job's mouth, and it gave the child diarrhea all night long.