Summary: Grace never was one for doing what she was supposed to, but she doesn't have time to think about that tonight. Or, the one wherein Grace thinks about things
Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: JoA and all characters therein belong to Barbara Hall and CBS. But since they decided they didn't want to use them anymore, they certainly won't mind me borrowing them.
A/N: Thanks to VanillaBeta. And Benadryl. Lots and lots of thanks to Benadryl.

Grace was three years old when she managed to maintain her first real memory. She could remember a few vague events before that, but only when someone told her about them. This memory, she remembered in vivid detail. Each event could replay itself over in her mind precisely how it played out in actuality.

It was a chilly, overcast day when her father decided she needed to get out of the house and get some fresh air. He took her to the park, where no normal parents had their children on a day when the weather scheduled for a torrential downpour. Grace sat alone in a corner of the large sandbox that sat to the right of the swings. She was bored and there were no other kids to play with. She hated playing with the other kids anyway; they were too boring.

Once her boredom hit an insurmountable level, she waddled over to the bench where her father sat and began to whine for him to take her home so she could slide around the kitchen floor in her socks. He glanced down at the little girl tugging impatiently on his pants leg just in time to see a fast moving boy collide with her. Her father's eyes widened with worry as he threw down his paper and bent over to check on his daughter.

"Hey!" she shouted as she jumped up without a moment's hesitation.

"Uh…" the dark haired little boy hesitated as he lifted himself up. He stared at her for several seconds before tapping her on the arm. "You're it." He grinned and took off toward the swings. Grace cocked her head slightly before taking off like a rocket and chasing after the boy.

"Adam!" a worried woman's voice called out as the kids ran toward the swings. "Adam!" She stopped once she reached the bench where Grace's father sat and looked over at the swings to see her son running away from a quick little blonde. "Ah," she sighed with relief, "there he is."

"Mommy!" the little boy ran toward his mother and hid behind her as Grace trudged across the grass after him. Grace's father stood and scooped her up with one arm to keep her from clobbering the woman and little boy both.

"I take it she's yours?" the woman asked, with a small laugh.

"Yes," Grace's father answered, slightly exasperated. "I'm sorry about that."

"Nonsense," the woman grinned. "They were just playing." The little boy slowly emerged from behind the woman's leg and glanced up at the older man standing in front of them. "I'm Elizabeth," the woman greeted. "And this," she mussed the boy's hair, "is my little Adam."

"Rabbi Polansky," Grace's father smiled as he shook the woman's hand. "And this little heathen would be-"

"Grace!" the hyper little blonde beamed, holding out her hand in a mimic of her father's gesture. The rabbi smiled as he watched the woman grin and shake Grace's hand like she did his own. "Hey!" the little girl began to fidget. "Lemme down!" Grace kicked at her father's stomach.

"Okay, okay," the rabbi relented with a chuckle as he bent over and placed her on the ground. Grace stepped closer to the little boy knows as Adam and cocked her head slightly, as if examining him.

"Do you have cooties?" he asked, doing the same.

"No," she answered, "but you do!"

"I do not!" Adam protested.

"Do to!"

The duo continued to argue back and forth over who the true possessor of cooties was as their parents shared a laugh, both taking note of the fast forming friendship. In less than five minutes, they'd come to an agreement for their little ones' next play date.

Grace was five years old when she learned her mother wasn't like other kids' moms. Most would say that's too young of an age to really get a grasp of something as powerful as addiction, but Grace was always an observant child, always in tune to the world around her. While she wasn't perfectly aware of what was going on, she was able to gather enough from a simple comparison to Adam's mother to know something was off with her own.

Mrs. Rove would always play with them. She'd help them build cardboard forts in their living room, or build Lego castles only to have a K'nex dinosaur knock it over. Sometimes, she'd even let them go play in the rain, even when the ground was nothing but an endless sheet of mud. She would run through it with them, even if it meant she'd get sick. She always played with them.

Grace's mother never played with them. She would always send them outside or down to the basement while she sat alone in the living room. Sometimes she would act funny. She would sing loud songs and most of the time she didn't remember all of the words, even if she'd sang them a hundred times before. Grace didn't understand what was wrong with her at that point, so she'd always laugh and sometimes try to learn the songs to sing along. Sometimes her mother let her. Sometimes she'd even pick her up and dance around with her until her father got home and took her upstairs.

She'd hear her parents arguing on occasion. Her father would tell her mother it wasn't safe for her to act like that around Grace, and sometime she might end up hurting her. Her mother would always laugh it off, like nothing was wrong. Her father was too passive to force his wife to listen to him, so her mother would just go back down to the living room and sit alone with her coffee cup while her father sat alone in their bedroom. Sometimes Grace would walk by and hear her father crying a little. She wasn't sure daddies were supposed to cry, but she was glad hers did. It made her feel less bad when she'd cry after skinning her knee or falling off a swing.

Grace was seven when she learned what a best friend was. Prior to that, she only really knew what a good acquaintance was. She and Adam had played together since they were three, but they'd never really done anything. They'd offered each other a youthful companionship through their crazy games and makeshift forts, but they'd never really had to be there for one another. There had been one time in kindergarten when some bigger kids tried to take Adam's milk money and Grace had to kick sand in their faces, but she didn't really count that. Maybe it was because Grace didn't think of it as that big of deal, or maybe it was because it was her being there for Adam and not the other way around. She wasn't sure, but that moment never stood out to her as anything extraordinary.

What did stand out to her was one moment from second grade. It was cold, near freezing, even though it was only October. Grace sat alone on the steps out in front of the school, waiting for her mother to come pick her up. She'd been sitting there for almost half an hour and there was still no sign of her mother's car anywhere in viewing distance. She didn't know that morning that it would be so cold, so her only source of warmth was nothing more than a thin, red raincoat. She pulled the raincoat tighter as she kept looking down both sides of the street, squinting her eyes as if that allowed her to see even farther.

"Grace?" a voice came from behind her. Grace turned around to see Adam standing a couple steps above her.

"Adam? Why are you still here?"

He shrugged. "Car broke down. Mom's on her way now." Grace nodded and looked back toward the road. "Why are you here?"

Grace answered with a shrug before looking back to him. He nodded and stepped down to her level. "Don't worry," he said as he sat down next to her, "Mom'll give you a ride." He looked over at her and gave her a small smile, which immediately made her feel a little bit better, because he didn't feel the need to ask anymore questions.

"Yeah, okay," Grace returned the smile before turning her eyes back toward the road. The two of them continued to sit there in a perfect, comfortable silence until Adam's mom showed up. That was when Grace learned that sometimes, even silent companionship could be better than being alone.

Grace was nine when she first started asking about G-d. She knew what she'd heard in the synagogue from time to time, but her attention span would never let her listen very long. So she remained constantly on her father's heels, asking him any question she could possibly come up with. What's G-d's real name? Can he really talk to people? and her personal favorite, I think G-d's a girl, which wasn't really a question so much as a blatant statement of her own belief to which her father would always reply, "G-d is whatever you want her to be, sweetie."

Her father always seemed incredibly proud that Grace had taken on such a strong interest in her faith at such a young age, but really, she just wanted to know who to ask for a skateboard. Adam had told her to ask Santa for it once, but Grace explained to him that Santa didn't come to her house since they never had a tree. When Adam suggested she talk her parents into getting a tree so she could get more presents, Grace simply told him she didn't want a tree. "The candles smell better, and fire is fun," she'd always say. Of course, this was also at the time when Grace still thought Santa was the guy who died on the T and Jesus was the one who drove around on the snowmobile wearing a red jumpsuit.

Grace always asked her father why they bowed their heads to pray. He told her it was out of respect, humbling themselves before their creator. "That's stupid," Grace would always reply. The way she figured it, if G-d was everything her father told her he was, he'd want to be treated just like anyone else. When asked for her reasoning behind this, Grace would say it was because that's how she'd want to be treated, and since G-d is everything she is, according to her father, that's how he'd want to be treated. Her father would just smile and laugh at the uncanny logic and innocence of his daughter. Grace told her father it wasn't funny, and always prayed with her eyes open and her head tilted toward the ceiling.

Grace always liked to think that G-d was actually on Earth, watching out for everyone, sometimes giving you a little nudge in the right direction if you got really confused. She believed this, even though her father always told her that G-d trusts man enough to make his own decisions, and plays the part of life coach only as a source of wisdom from which you can interpret your own answers. Grace never wanted to tell her father he was wrong. He was, after all, the rabbi of the house. But even at nine years old, Grace believed that faith was something every person has to come up with on their own. Faith, beliefs, ideas. All things that every individual has to find for themselves. She always felt that if someone believed hard enough in something, then that made it true. Of course, her logic didn't extend to the fact that a lot of people believe very different things, and not all of them could be true, since most of the time they tended to contradict each other. She wouldn't have cared about that if she did realize it.

Grace was always stubborn in her way of thinking, completely unwilling to compromise what she thought was true. Which could very easily explain why she insisted that the mover versions of the Ninja Turtles were real until she was old enough to realize you can sort of see the zippers on the costumes sometimes.

Grace was eleven years old when she realized that friendship was superficial. Grace had never had anyone stay over at her house for a prolonged period of time. The longest Adam had ever been over was four or five hours one afternoon when his mother had a doctor's appointment. When Grace asked Becky Coogan to stay over one night, her mother promised everything would be alright. Her father had made sure of it before going out of town for some weekend conference. While Grace liked Adam enough, she liked having another girl to hang around with. Especially since Becky was the only other girl at school who could beat the boys at kickball or four square, and she didn't make fun of Grace's GI Joes. She had her own set.

The night Becky came over, they played GI Joes and Super Mario Brothers in Grace's room until almost eleven, which was the latest Grace had ever been allowed to stay up. Her mom promised them if they went to bed and stayed there until morning, that she would make them some made from scratch pancakes. Grace loved it when her mom made pancakes, because it happened so rarely, that they were always made extra special and served with the extra sweet blueberry syrup Grace loved. So the girls went to bed around eleven and woke up around eight so they could have their extra special pancakes with extra sweet syrup.

As the two girls bounded down the stairs, Grace thought something didn't feel right. She quickly shook off the feeling, but once they reached the bottom, the feeling returned when they ran into the kitchen and spotted Grace's mother lying on the floor. Grace took a quick glance at Becky before running over to her mother to see if everything was okay. She shook her mother and tried to wake her up, receiving only unintelligible grunts as an answer. When she headed back to the edge of the room, she saw Becky inching toward the phone.

"I needa call my mom," she said.

Grace tried to argue with her, but she knew nothing would convince her to stay after being greeted by the aroma of bourbon and whiskey at eight on a Saturday morning. She went upstairs and gathered Becky's things and the two of them waited out on the front porch for her mother to come. As she watched her friend drive away, she took note of the fact that Becky didn't even look back at her, and that was when Grace learned people always walk away.

Grace was twelve when she learned life's most important lesson. It was the year when everything she thought she knew would change. The year her world was pulled from underneath her and she knew nothing would ever be simple and clear and perfect the way she wanted it to be. For the rest of her life, she would carry the cold, gray imprint of the dreary hospital waiting room in picture perfect clarity. The sterile, haunting sent of rubbing alcohol and latex, the ambiance consisting of heart monitors and wheels rolling across the cold tile floor, the doctors shouting back and forth to each other about blood counts and rib spreaders and last night's football scores. The gentle, yet uncontrollable sobs of Adam Rove, sitting next to her in another stiff plastic chair as the doctors made their futile attempts at saving his already long gone mother. That was the night Grace learned about mortality.

Grace was stone-faced at the funeral. She refused to allow herself to be sad, because she refused to let Adam know she was sad. She had to be strong for him; she was always the strong one. If he saw her fall apart, it would remove any hope he may have had remaining, buried somewhere deep below the pain. That night, Grace sat outside under the familiar old oak tree at the top of the hill near the edge of the park and stared up at the sky. There were stars. No moon. The only light around her was the flickering bulb of a streetlight on the sidewalk several yards away.

She picked up a few of the small stones that were carefully laid out under the tree and threw them over the hill, listening to their crash landings echoing across the hillside as they hit the sidewalk. She examined the area around her. Her surroundings were as desolate as the late night sky above her. She tilted her head toward the sky, her burning eyes wide open. "Where are you?"

Grace leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes, waiting for her answer. She heard nothing but the wind whipping through the falling leaves and a few dogs barking on the horizon. She opened her eyes and turned her gaze back up to the empty heavens just as the flickering streetlight finally went dark.

That was when Grace learned G-d didn't exist.

Grace was fifteen when she learned the rest of life's most important lessons. For years, she'd spent all of her time building up walls, a fortress of privacy and solitude, calculated down to the very last detail. Perfect for keeping everyone away. She passed through the world as if surrounded by a bastion of concrete and steel, everyone seeing her but no one knowing who she really was. Her eyes, once the most vibrant shade of blue anyone had seen, had grown into nothing more than cold, gray pools of anger and pain, so narrow and closed of that she didn't even recognize them anymore. She liked it that way. Hiding from the world had always been easier than living in it. But soon, the time would come for Grace to learn that she couldn't hide forever.

Her first clue arrived in the form of a flighty, self-absorbed, and slightly schizophrenic teenager named Joan Girardi. Joan entered her Advanced Placement Chemistry class a month into the school year with absolutely no explanation. She'd been paired with Grace and Adam, filling the empty void between the two of them at their lab table and, as Grace soon discovered, in their lives as well. Joan lectured her on her potential, on having pride in herself, on all the things her father tried to lecture her on that just went soaring through the space between her ears. When Joan said them, though, Grace believed them. She wasn't sure how or why; she only knew she did. She wasn't sure if it was through Joan's insistence that she turn in lab reports, or if it was when she stood up for her when others wanted to confirm certain rumors, or if was the fact that she managed to get Adam to start resembling himself again, but Grace saw a certain spark in Joan's eyes that told her she was someone worthwhile. Within a week, Grace learned that she didn't have to be completely alone.

The second clue she'd come to find was that of Joan's fourteen-year-old, science nerd of a brother, Luke. Grace didn't know him very well then, but she knew enough to see there was something odd about him. When she caught him looking at her, she'd give him the same scowling glare she welcomed everyone with, but unlike everyone else, he never looked away. He just grinned and waved shyly and Grace wondered why he didn't run. A couple months into the school year, he approached her as she sat with Adam on the steps outside of the school. In several broken sentences and stuttered words, he carefully asked her to work with him on the Science Fair. Grace didn't plan ahead, and she wanted to tell him to beat it, but something about him kept her from announcing a full on rejection. So, she told him to ask again later, though somehow knowing that she'd probably end up at the Geek Prom. When she gave him her answer, his nervous grin turned into a full on broad, lopsided smile accented by a small, excited laugh that Grace would've thought was cute if she was anyone but Grace. He gave her one last glance before bounding happily down the stairs and taking off to who knows where. Grace felt a small smirk appear on her face as she fidgeted absently with her headphones while watching him leave.

The months flew by and soon it was time to prepare for the Science Fair. When Luke approached Grace on the topic for the second time, she made the mistake of telling him she'd already agreed. She figured he'd gather from that statement what her plan had been all along, but if he did, he didn't call her on it. He just nervously asked again, fumbling through his second invitation. She agreed again, of course, though when he pulled out a massive stack of papers full of intrinsic scientific experiments, she started to wonder if maybe it hadn't been such a good idea. Not that Grace didn't understand science; she wasn't completely inept. She just had no passion or patience for dealing with endless formulas and calculations. As he prattled on about atoms and nuclei, Grace thought about retracting her commitment to the project. That's when her eyes landed on plans that involved rigging up a big magnet and shooting a slug. She immediately insisted they do that. Of course, true geek he was, they ended up starting off with something involving atoms and uncertainty and Grace really didn't pay a whole lot of attention since she didn't care about theories and tended to get bored about the third word in. It wasn't until after their project had been confiscated by the FBI (a fact which Grace secretly thought was completely awesome) that she was able to convince him that an electromagnetic current shooting a chunk of metal would be fun. When she showed up at his garage that night, she expected to find a couple small metal rods set to launch a car battery. What she found, though, was a huge motor that no doubt weighed more than she did. She made absolutely no effort to contain her excitement after that, as the image of launching a motor across the gym filled her mind, even though she knew it would only go a couple inches if it even moved at all.

They worked throughout the night, and by morning, they had a completed Rail Gun. The fact that they'd actually managed to complete the project surprised both of them, even if they wouldn't know until the actual demonstration if it would work or not. After skillfully (and quickly) attaching the leads to the main board, Grace looked up at the boy who nearly towered over her. He looked down at her with a small hint of a smile and met her eyes, which was something most people were afraid to do. They stood there, in silence,and that was when Grace learned that one look could make the world stop spinning for a second.

Nothing came of it though; Grace wouldn't allow that. The protective layer she had built over the past few years couldn't be arsed to crumble so quickly. She'd have none of this "teenage love" thing she'd heard people talk about so much. Even if it meant sacrificing something she wasn't ready to admit that she wanted. She remembered standing in the hallway one afternoon, on her way to Joan's stupid debate, where she was determined to incite a riot, and turning around to see Luke standing there with a fellow rocket head. It was the first time she found herself completely unable to move despite really, really wanting to get the hell out of there. She watched as the two of them share an alarmingly awkward, yet clearly enjoyed, kiss, and that was when Grace learned about regret.

Adam and Joan hooked up not too long after, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Grace was glad to finally be rid of their drama (so she thought, anyway), but she also found herself becoming increasingly disgusted by their outward displays of affection and their hanging all over each other anytime they were in the same room. The two of them spent more and more time together, always hanging around each other at work or school or wherever they chose to be on weekends. Grace had always been familiar with alienation and loneliness, in a way, but not so much with the slight sense of desertion she'd been feeling lately. She wasn't sure what caused it or why it wouldn't go away, even when she was with Adam and Joan. But she knew it was there, and she figured that was what life had always meant for her, and any sense of completion she'd ever felt was just destiny's way of mocking her. That was when Grace realized maybe she did have to be alone, after all.

Grace was sixteen when Luke gave her a rock. A geode. Whatever it was. She examined it closely when she got home the night he'd given it to her. Outwardly, it was kind of rough and plain and nothing she'd ever think twice about if she passed it on the street. But the chunk of it that had been cut revealed the crystal like interior. The celestite in the rough. She didn't understand it, but somehow she didn't feel like she had to. She wasn't sure what to do about it, and she secretly hoped he'd forget all about giving it to her, but she was smart enough to realize that he wouldn't. After Joan got sick and Luke walked Grace home from the hospital (crazy Mr. Browning that he was), the subject came up. Much to her own surprise, Grace was the one who brought it up. That was when she felt every wall, every brick she'd worked so hard to lay just right start to crumble out from underneath her. Every argument, every line she tried to use to get away failed. And in one split second, Grace learned that kissing in the rain was actually kind of nice.

The months went by and Grace found herself in an actual relationship with another human being. A guy. A guy who looked at her as if she was the only creature left on the entire planet. And Grace wanted to kick her own ass for liking it so much when he looked at her that way. She'd tried to keep him at arm's length, because she'd learned before that people always run away. She even whipped up a notarized and legally binding secrecy contract. He didn't flinch. She limited their time together and threatened to cut off various extremities if he blabbed a word to anyone. He didn't turn away. He was always there, solid as the rock he'd given her that still sat on her shelf as a constant reminder that she did matter to someone. That rock that managed to convince her with one glance that it was okay to tell him about her mother, that it was alright to accept a shoulder when someone offered one.

The morning she told him about her mother via instant message, she went to school not sure what to expect. She'd hoped there was some sort of server error or code malfunction, or maybe his power went out as soon as she hit enter and maybe his computer blew up so he'd never be able see the message. She knew that wasn't the case the second she spotted him in the hallway, shoving past security and lunging toward her. She lead him to a vacant classroom and stood there, wanting to run away but once again finding herself completely unable to move. When she looked up at him, though, she didn't see someone ready to run. She saw a hand, reaching out to her to tell her everything was going to be okay, and for once, Grace believed everything would be okay and she didn't have a problem with that. As she felt him take her into his embrace, she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him as if he was the last remaining thing on Earth, and she was pretty sure he couldn't breathe there for a few seconds, but he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything at all. He was simply there. She felt herself relax as he rubbed her back a little, and that was when Grace learned that sometimes, it really was better when you weren't alone.

Grace is seventeen as she sits quietly, hidden in the back corner of the synagogue listening to her father speak. She feels a little closer to her heritage these days, after her Bat Mitzvah and spending the entire summer rebuilding the synagogue after the arson. She's not sure what made her really stop and think about things, but she's pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that she catches herself smiling more these days. As soon as her father utters his final words, she's up and gone before he realizes she's there. She isn't ready to have him know she's been showing up on a weekly basis for a couple of months now. She also isn't ready for him to know she's been slowly weaning herself off the salami and pepperoni, except for when she visits the Girardis'. After all, a Jew can't eat a meal in an Italian household without ingesting at least one item they really aren't supposed to. Then again, Grace never was one for doing what she was supposed to, but she doesn't have time to think about that tonight. She has places to be.

As she makes her way to Euclid Avenue, she stops for a minute and leans back against the large oak tree that stands solitary at the corner. She feels her lips start to slowly perk at the corners as she sees a couple dogs chasing around the pumpkin and crimson colored leaves that are floating along just above the sidewalk. She breaks into a full on grin when she looks up and sees the familiar old man with his bucket hat and 'I Love Everyone' pin. She recognizes him; he's a staple in the Girardis' neighborhood. He's always struggling with the leashes, trying to keep an infinite number of mongrels under control. He's weird in a way. Everyone sees him all the time, but no one really knows who he is, and Grace can relate to that. She remembers seeing Joan talking to the man sometimes, but she's not sure what they talk about. She just knows that Joan yells at him whenever something's wrong and it makes her feel better.

The man gives Grace a broad smile as the dogs drag him past her, and she can't help but return it. "Keep smilin', Grace. It's a good one," he says, tipping his hat before the dogs drag him further down the sidewalk. Grace freezes, and then she blinks a couple times. She doesn't remember ever talking to him, let alone telling him her name. After a second or two, she shakes her head, realizing he probably got it from Joan.

She shoves herself off the tree and makes her way around the corner, where she can already smell the garlic permeates from the large brick house just a few yards away. As she approaches the doorstep, the tangy aroma of Mr. Girardi's made from scratch marinara joins the garlic in flooding her senses, and she's pretty sure she smells a little cinnamon in there, too. As she reaches up and rings the doorbell, Grace hopes there's actually lasagna this year. After no more than half a second, the door flies open with excitement and loud laughter resonates from inside. "Grace!" Atom Boy cries as his arms swallow her in a huge hug. "You made it!"

Grace is slightly taken aback for a second, before she gives in and returns the gesture. She wonders if there was ever actually any doubt in his mind that she would make it, or if he was just so happy to see her that he couldn't find anything better to greet her with. But whatever his reason, Grace smiles, because he's happy. He pulls back after a minute and places his hand lightly on her cheek and her smile grows, as it's wont to do when he touches her like that, even though she knows it makes them look like a pair from a cheesy 1940s romance. He brings his lips to hers and holds them there a little longer than Grace is comfortable with in front of his family. A loud 'woo!'ing can be heard from his older brother as he breaks away, and Grace suddenly wishes it would have lasted a little longer.

She finally manages to step inside, and Luke closes the door behind her before leading her into the kitchen. Joan tosses her a wave as she grabs a couple pitchers of tea and heads into the dining room. His parents are there, placing the biggest pan of lasagna Grace has ever seen right in the middle of the table. When they see her standing in the doorframe, his father waves and his mother gives her that motherly grin that always makes her feel a little warmer. She smiles again, and Joan makes a crack about how she's in such a good mood. Grace simply rolls her eyes and heads to the coat rack standing by the back door. As she takes off her jacket, she watches Luke take a seat at the table and proceed to shoo Joan over to the other side when she tries to sit next to him. Grace grins, because she knows he's saving that seat for her. When she hangs her jacket on the coat rack, she unzips one of the side pockets and pulls out a small bag of DAVID Sunflower Seeds. She heads back into the dining room and wonders if he'll catch the reference.

"Hey, Geek!" she calls when she reaches the doorway. "Heads up!" She tosses the bag over the table when he looks up, and he catches them right before they collide with his face. He brings the bag down and examines it for a moment, before looking up and giving Grace a wide-eyed, lopsided grin. Grace smiles and takes her seat next to him as everyone else wonders what on Earth that was all about. He brings his hand to her face again and softly brushes a few wayward strands of hair out of her eyes, and Grace feels a little light headed for a second.

Luke leans forward and kisses her again, in that sweet, loving way that Grace tries to deny she enjoys so much. As they separate, Joan "ew"s and proceeds to crack a couple jokes at their expense. Luke laughs as their mother tells her to cool it. The family engages in more good-natured banter and as Grace watches them, she subtly lifts her eyes toward the ceiling and whispers a small "Thank you." For a moment, Grace thinks she hears a couple dogs barking outside, but the sound is soon covered up by the explosion of laughter at the Girardis' table, and Grace looks across from her to see a glaring Joan with a large smear of marinara streaking across her face. Despite herself, Joan soon erupts into a fit of laughter as well. Grace smiles and takes in her surroundings, hoping she'll be in this same place in another seventeen years.