"I can check when I get back if you like. Where would I find you?"

"In New York City, as Elizabeth Kirsch."

Pause. "Are you sure New York City - and for that matter how attached to this time are you - because my biological paternal grandmother..."

"I'm not at all sure about New York City. What was this woman like?"

"I don't know much. Human memories get faded like crazy after turning, so I don't have much from Dad. Grandpa saw her... she did look something like you, but older, old enough to have a seventeen-year-old son, and sicker, and not the beneficiary of modern medicine. I can't really compare voices because she was dying of the flu the entire time and didn't sound great. But her name was Elizabeth and her maiden name was Kirsch."

"Well," says Libby. "That's weirdly hilarious."

"Grandma," says Elspeth experimentally. It doesn't sound particularly true or particularly untrue. "I don't think I have enough to go on to do that. Oh well. The only thing I know she did was figure out that Grandpa Carlisle would be able to do something to save her son and tell him very fiercely to do so. He couldn't do anything for her even if he'd wanted to turn an extra person, because she died when people were looking, but Dad he was able to wheel out and save."

"Yeah, that sounds reasonably like me," says Libby. "If there was an unusually ethical vampire hanging around and I had a terminally ill son, you bet I'd figure it out and point the one at the other."

"Sending pictures to humans has been demonstrated safe. Do you want to see her?"

"Sure."

Elspeth picks out a series of images - one blurry, unclear one from Edward's childhood, where the ages would be more closely matched, and three from Carlisle's observation of her. And a picture of Edward, before he got so sick, when he was still human, for kicks.

"Cute kid," she remarks. "I could believe we're related. He looks a little like my mom, actually."

"So maybe you're going to help your counterfactual-daughter-in-law take over the world," giggles Elspeth. "Here's my dad's biological dad. It's not a great picture since he died of the flu the next day, but I dunno, do you think he looks like husband material?" A picture accompanies.

"First I have to imagine myself getting married," she says, "but turn of the twentieth century, I guess it's not impossible. Did he have any notable features other than looks, or do you not know?"

"He named my dad after himself?" Elspeth suggests. "...Dad's lingering impressions of him were that he was smart and authoritative and principled, the sort of person relative to whom Grandpa Carlisle's fathering would seem like an improvement but not a completely different sort of relationship?"

"Well, smart is always a plus. Authoritative not so much."

"This was how he came off to Edward, I have even less about how he was with his wife," Elspeth points out.

"True. Well, I'll buy it."

"All right. Hallo, Grandma," says Elspeth. It sounds a fair bit less true than most of what she says, but not overwhelmingly so.

"You are now officially my favourite grandchild."

Elspeth giggles. "Aww. You've got more competition for favorite grandma, I'm afraid."

"I can live with that," she says.

"Grandma Esme is the sweetest person. If she met you she would probably decide it was appropriate to ask you to accept on your counterpart's behalf her sincerest thanks for bringing up her adopted son."

"You know, Elspeth, you've got a pretty great family."

"There was a period where my dad was a total jerk, but that was pretty much due to circumstances beyond his control, even if he could have handled those circumstances better. And he fixed them as best he could and we're okay now."