His expression changed.
“What did she write?”
“Exceptional eye. Brave work. Follow up.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he smiled.
It was small and almost sad.
“That sounds like her.”
“She wanted to offer me a fellowship.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Your father found the photograph recently.”
Adrian leaned against the counter.
“I wish she had gotten the chance.”
“So do I.”
And that was all.
No dramatic lament.
No imagining a completely different life.
At twenty-two, I had missed an opportunity I never knew existed.
At thirty-three, I had built a career anyway.
The discovery mattered.
But it did not erase what came after.
Then I asked the real question.
“Why did you buy Blackwell & Reed?”
His eyes lifted.
There it was.
A flicker.
Not guilt.
Something more complicated.
“You spoke to my father too long.”
“Probably.”
He looked toward the living room.
Then back at me.
