“Why are you here?”
Adrian looked at me.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“I came for leftover pasta.”
Mia nodded.
“Okay.”
Apparently that was sufficient.
Then she disappeared toward the kitchen.
Adrian whispered, “That went better than my board meetings.”
—
His father recovered steadily.
The London decision remained unresolved.
For another month, Adrian divided his time between work, family, and us.
Then, one Sunday afternoon, we visited William Kane at his home in Connecticut.
I had expected a difficult man.
Instead, I found an older version of Adrian sitting beside a fireplace with a cane resting against his chair, looking deeply annoyed by the fact that everyone kept asking whether he needed anything.
Mia liked him immediately.
“You’re bossier than Mr. Kane,” she informed him.
William looked at his son.
“I like her.”
“I suspected you might.”
While Mia explored the conservatory with Adrian’s sister, Caroline, William asked me to stay behind.
