Chapter 22 - The Toast He Didn't Give
Carol left the reception early.
Nobody stopped her.
That became one of my favorite details about the wedding.
For years, departure had been used as a weapon in our family.
If you leave, you are cruel.
If I leave, you caused it.
If someone storms out, everyone must chase them.
That night, Carol put on her coat and walked away.
The cake remained delicious.
The marriage remained legal.
The earth continued rotating.
Talia danced with Marcus beneath strings of greenhouse lights.
Mom danced badly with Finn.
Addie allowed Sophie to drag her into a group of teenagers doing something that seemed to involve pointing at the floor.
Wes stayed.
Quietly.
At one point, Mason sat beside him.
They spoke for almost twenty minutes.
I could not hear them.
I did not try.
On Monday, Brooke called.
“Something happened at the wedding.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Mason asked Wes whether the house story was true.”
I sat down.
“What did Wes say?”
“He told him no.”
I waited.
Brooke continued.
“He said you inherited half, he tried to move it without your permission, and what happened afterward was his responsibility.”
My eyes burned.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because Mason wanted you to know.”
I looked through my office window.
Nia was arguing with a supplier in the parking lot.
Franklin’s limestone samples covered half my desk.
Ordinary life again.
“What did Mason say?”
“He asked why his dad had lied.”
“And?”
“Wes said because telling the truth made him ashamed.”
I closed my eyes.
That was the closest thing to accountability I had ever heard from my brother.
It did not change the past.
It changed the next minute.
Sometimes that was enough.
At Franklin, work accelerated.
The west wall was stable.
Original windows were being restored instead of replaced.
The city approved our revised drainage system.
Daniel spent enough time on-site that Finn began calling him “Wall Guy.”
The nickname stuck.
One Friday, Daniel and I stood on the roof inspecting flashing.
“You know your son thinks I only understand walls.”
“He has a limited view of structural engineering.”
“I’ve prepared a presentation.”
“He won’t watch it.”
“It has diagrams.”
“He definitely won’t watch it.”
Daniel smiled.
Below us, downtown traffic moved through wet streets.
He leaned against the parapet.
“Can I ask you something not about buildings?”
“Dangerous.”
“Would you have dinner with me?”
I stared at him.
He immediately added, “Not a project dinner.”
“I understood.”
“Good.”
“Are you always this nervous?”
“No.”
“You’re visibly nervous.”
“I regret the question.”
I laughed.
It had been years since I dated seriously.
Owen had built a life with Celia.
They were engaged now.
Our divorce no longer felt like an open wound.
It felt like a road that had led both of us somewhere better.
Still, saying yes to Daniel felt strange.
Not frightening.
Strange.
“I’d like dinner.”
He exhaled.
“Good.”
“But you’re not meeting my children.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I asked for pasta, Maren. Not joint custody.”
I laughed so hard I had to hold the parapet.
Dinner was simple.
Italian restaurant.
Two hours.
No declarations.
No trauma inventory.
We talked about why he became an engineer.
Why I loved damaged buildings.
His mother’s habit of mailing him newspaper clippings.
My father teaching me to test floorboards before trusting paint.
At the end of the evening, Daniel walked me to my car.
“I had a good time.”
“So did I.”
“Can I call you?”
“Yes.”
“Look at us. Communicating like adults.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He smiled.
Then he kissed my cheek.
Nothing more.
I drove home feeling sixteen and forty-two at the same time.
Addie was waiting in the kitchen.
“You went on a date.”
“How do you know?”
“Your lipstick.”
“I wear lipstick.”
“Not voluntarily.”
Finn appeared behind her.
“Was it Wall Guy?”
I stared at both children.
“You have homework.”
“It was Wall Guy,” Addie said.
I pointed upstairs.
They left laughing.
My phone buzzed.
For one second, I expected Daniel.
It was Mom.
Can I ask your opinion before I do something?
I called her.
“What?”
“I want to change my will.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because I don’t want to repeat old patterns.”
“What change?”
She took a breath.
“I want everything divided equally among you, Wes, and Talia.”
I frowned.
“That seems normal.”
“There’s one problem.”
Of course.
“What?”
“Wes owes you restitution.”
I closed my eyes.
May you like
Mom continued.
“I need to know whether leaving him a share feels like I’m making you pay for him again.”
