They ate the pie for supper, sitting cross-legged on one of the beds with the foam box between them and the TV showing *The Love Boat* in black-and-white through the snow. Josie got cherry on her chin. Walt ate his whole slice. She watched him do it.
"You're eating a lot today," she said, satisfied.
"Making up for lost time."
"Grandpa." She licked her fork. "Why did that lady know what Grandma used to say?"
He looked at her.
"Eat while it's hot," said Josie. "The world will wait. Grandma said that. Daddy says it too sometimes. He says it like Grandma. He says it like this." She put her fists on her hips and made her voice high and sharp and Iowan, and for a moment there she was, Marian, alive, on the porch: "*Walter! Eat while it's hot! The world will wait!*"
Walt laughed, and then he was not laughing, and he put his hand over his eyes.
Josie set the foam box carefully on the nightstand and crawled across the bed and sat next to him, not touching him, just near, the way you sit near a horse that has been spooked.
"It's okay," she said. "I miss her too."
He took his hand down. The TV boat was sailing toward Puerto Vallarta through a blizzard of static.
"Lots of people say it, I guess," he said.
"I guess."
They were quiet. The heater roared.
"Grandpa, who's Ellen?"
He went very still. "Where did you hear that name?"