All familiar characters are Janet's. Mistakes are mine alone.

The troubled expression Stephanie was wearing disappeared literally in the hands of our daughter.

"Are you patting out Mama's frown lines?" She asked Olivia, who had been tapping Steph's face in her unique way of soothing or cheering up someone.

Olive may not know why her Mama's concerned, but she for sure was going to do her damnedest to fix it.

My wife says she gets that from me. I believe the urge to help everyone is an ingrained trait Olivia inherited from her mother. We're both not wrong.

She pressed a kiss to one baby hand and then directed our daughter's attention back to her breakfast. Assured that she's the reason her Mama is back to smiling again, Olivia picked up her toddler fork and tried her hand at spearing another bite of her cheesy scrambled eggs.

This time she managed to get a whole piece of the scramble into her mouth on the first try. Her smile of accomplishment was wide as she carefully chewed her food, and her actions had both of her parents grinning now, not just Stephanie.

"Proud of you, Mini-Babe," I told my baby with a kiss to her temple to reinforce it.

Mo and Gunny aren't so happy that she's getting better at manning her own utensils, since they've been more than happy to help clean up whatever falls off the edge of Olivia's high chair table or from her hands directly.

"They whine about food more than I do," my wife said to me, before getting up from our table and spoiling the two beggars by giving them another helping of the homemade dog food from the recipe Ella had created which required only dumping ingredients into a crockpot.

Our mutts don't care how easy it was to make, they just continue to wolf it down whenever they get another bowl, but the pride Steph still feels in providing a meal without needing to call my mother, Edna, or Ella, for help ... matched Olive's at eating her breakfast all by herself.

"How are you planning to handle your mother's call?" I asked Steph, when she'd returned to the table.

Three babies are all happily eating now. I was hoping that when Gunner and Ammo reached their adult height and weight, they'd act less like puppies. But while they are extremely protective of my ladies, and will immediately respond to commands, when they're 'off-duty' they remind me of a couple of new recruits that just passed Basic ... thinking only about eating, sleeping, and goofing off, until their next order is given.

"I was thinking we can pay Grandma a visit first and see if she knows anything about why the Wicked Witch of Chambersburg is calling me after months of us living a peaceful existence without her. I don't want to make contact until I have a bead on what she wants."

"You don't have to make contact at all. This ceased to be your fight when you cut her off," I reminded her.

"It did, but I'm strong enough to take her on without suffering any damage. My Dad isn't there yet. He's in a tricky place right now. He's opened all his old wounds, and if my mother gets her buffed claws in him ... she'll dump her special brand of poison in every one of them just so he'll never be able to heal."

A too-descriptive but apt analogy.

"I could have a word with her instead," I offered, pushing Olivia's sippy cup closer to her when her reaching for it had the opposite effect than what she'd intended. "That would spare the two of you."

My wife leaned across the kitchen table to kiss me. "You're just as effective as our daughter at making me smile and feel better about everything. But, no. While I appreciate you always wanting to take the hit, you're too good to be around her."

"And you believe I would have no problem making her disappear if she annoys me further than she already has."

She nodded. "That reason's a close second to mine."

"The offer stands ... just talking or taking her out."

"You're sweet," was her response.

"You're the only one who thinks so."

She shook her head. "Not true. Olive thinks you're the sweetest thing on two legs. Right, Olive? Daddy's the best, isn't he?"

She pointed the handle of her fork into her bib. "Olib wubs Daddy."

She sealed that vow with an offering of her own, one of her cut-up toast squares.

"He loves you back," I promised her, letting her share her breakfast with me.

I cleaned up the kitchen while Steph got herself and Olivia out of pj's and into their 'have to face the world now' clothes. They reemerged both wearing jeans. Steph's are dark and lovingly fitted to her legs, Olivia's looser and lighter version have decorative but also reinforced tears in the knees. My wife's sporting a Rangeman t-shirt, while our baby had a busy flower print going on with a ruffle that skimmed the top of her jeans. Sneakers were the choice of the day. Steph had gone with her favorite Chucks and Olivia had on a pair of pastel yellow running shoes, I'd guess to match her floral top.

People may bitch about having to wear uniforms, but it makes life easier and morning's faster when you wear the same thing everyday.

"Your daughter wasn't in the mood to sit still," Steph was saying, "so we just went with two bow clips to keep her hair out of her eyes. I think I gave her the wrong idea with the running shoes. That seems to be her speed for today."

I figured that out when Olivia spotted me in the hall and made a beeline straight for me and the front door.

"Good. She'll keep Edna busy and out of trouble," I told my wife, as I got the door for the two of them.

I didn't ask if she needed me to come with her to Edna's, I just invited myself.

"Come on in," Grandma Mazur said five minutes later. "I just put on a fresh pot of coffee."

"We just had breakfast, but I could use another cup already," Steph told her.

I let Steph go ahead of us and then I let our daughter loose. Edna's apartment was baby-proofed on day one, knowing that it would be a place Olivia visits frequently. It's almost as safe as our own apartment, except that our place has Mo and Gunny protecting her while here she has Edna's influence which is sometimes on the shadier side.

Once we all had coffee in front of us, and Olivia was having fun turning her giraffe four-wheeler into a bumper car using all the furniture in Edna's living room, we got down to business.

"Do you know why Mom called me yesterday?" Steph asked.

"Prolly cause she wanted me to get Frank on the line, since he hasn't been talking to her, and I told her that he had a date with you and can't be bothered."

I wanted to voice a complaint about that answer, but it already happened and can't be taken back now.

"Did she say what she wanted Dad for?" Steph asked her.

She shrugged her bony shoulders. "Knowin' my daughter, she wanted him just because he's ignorin' her."

My wife sighed. "This isn't as helpful as I'd hoped."

I covered her hands with mine. "I can make the problem go away for you. Just say the word."

"Not yet," were the two I got back. "Guess I go the old-fashioned route and call her and ask. I should've done it last night and got this over with."

"You were in no mood or shape to deal with that woman yesterday, Babe. Today, however, I feel sorry for her."

"No, you don't," she replied, as she dialed back the number that tried to ruin what was left of our evening.

My wife isn't going to let her mother ruin anything anymore. She's back in fighting mode today. If Atlas is smart, he'll lay low so as not to attract her attention.

I gave her a wolf grin in acknowledgement of the truth in her answer. The day I feel sorry for Helen Plum will be the day hell freezes over and Olivia's giraffe takes over the world.

She peeked around the table to see what our daughter had bumped its head into as Helen's voice unfortunately filled Edna's possibly-permanent kitchen.

My wife being ... well my wife, went on the attack. "What do you want with Dad?"

"Good morning to you too, Stephanie," said a voice that could shred bark right off a healthy tree.

"It is a pretty flower. Grandma Mazur has good taste," Steph said to Olivia, who had parked her animal when a hot pink silk Dahlia caught her eye and she needed to show it off before getting back to her game.

"Flower?" Helen asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I wasn't talking to you, I was discussing something with Olive. Anyway, I think we're well beyond small talk and polite pleasantries. So, getting back to my question ... what do you want with Dad?"

"I'd like to speak to my husband. That isn't such an unusual request. I'm sure you do the same with yours."

We all heard her thought bubble on that one ... why Stephanie would want to talk to me is beyond Helen's comprehension.

"I do talk to Ranger all day long because I love him, respect his opinion, and the sound of his voice makes me relaxed and happy. You can't claim any of those are true for you and Dad. You have an agenda and I want to know what it is."

You could feel Helen's mouth tighten and lips straighten through the line. "That's between your father and I."

"I'd agree except you calling me involved me in whatever it is you want now."

"This is exactly why I didn't want to call you, but your father and grandmother left me no choice."

"I wish the church ladies could hear that lie," Steph said, her smile showing she was picturing just that. "They'd be crossing themselves right and left and stepping to the side to avoid lightning. You have plenty of choices. You could give Dad the space he needs right now. You could agree to get counseling with him - and also without him - so you're both starting on equal ground. Or the very least you could do is just be nice to everybody and start asking instead of demanding everything and then maybe people will actually want to talk to you."

"If you'd tell your father to call me, I would appreciate it."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, but it doesn't matter because I'm not your or his secretary. If you want to speak to your husband, you're going to have to wait for him to contact you or you agree to come talk to him with one of his people running interference."

"You can't keep me away from him forever," she warned. "The state is already opening back up."

"I'm not trying to keep you two apart, he's staying away from you all on his own. I'm extraordinarily happy in my own marriage, I'm not looking to meddle in anyone else's."

"Then what were you and your father discussing yesterday?" My manipulator-in-law asked.

"That's between Dad and I," Steph said, using her mother's own words against her.

"Neither you nor this virus will destroy my marriage."

"That's true. It's just like you want ... only you can destroy it. Keep this up, and I guarantee you will."

"This is what you wanted all along," Helen accused.

"I admit, on some level I've always wondered what it'd be like to be a Daddy's girl, so I have been enjoying getting to know mine, but what you're seeing now is Dad making his own decisions based on what's right for him. Thank you for believing I have enough power to control everyone's thoughts and actions, though. I'm surprised you'd ever say I can do what you've spent your entire life working to achieve."

"Where is your grandmother?"

"Right here, Helen. Where you'd be if you had a bit a sense left at all. I ain't tellin' Frank nothin' either. You want your husband, come and get him."

At that moment I got a sense of how Steph was feeling as a girl every time she ran away from home and hid out with her grandmother. On the surface, Edna sounds mostly polite and somewhat reasonable, but the three of us heard the steel in her voice. If Helen wants to barge in here to 'free' Frank - as if she could - she'll have to survive her mother's 'leave no harpy standing' defense of him in order to accomplish it.