— Do you want me not to go?
Claire thought about it.
— No.
— I want to know the flight details.
— And if anything changes, I want you to tell me.
— Yes.
— Not your mother.
— Definitely.
They laughed.
Margaret was rebuilding her relationship with her son separately.
Not through Claire.
David saw her once a month.
The first meetings were uncomfortable.
Margaret:
— How is Claire?
David:
— Ask her yourself if she wants to talk.
— Okay.
— And you?
— Fine.
Silence.
Later, they spoke about Henry.
Not money.
Their marriage.
Margaret:
— Your father made decisions without me.
— And I hated it.
— Then I did the exact same thing.
David:
— Yes.
— I thought that if I made better decisions, it was justified.
— Yes.
— Do you think I was a bad wife?
David:
— I'm not going to judge forty years based on this.
— A bad mother?
— You did something terrible to me.
— That, you did.
Margaret:
— You're not answering.
— Because you want a label that tells you who you are.
— I can't give you that.
— You have to live with the facts.
She nodded.
Harsh.
But more useful.
THE PROJECT THAT WASN'T WORTH A MARRIAGE
Three years later, Riverside Quay was completed.
Another investor bought it.
The buildings were sold.
Ironically, the project proved profitable for the new owner.
Margaret saw the news.
Sent a message to David: In the end, it worked.
He didn't reply immediately.
Later: Yes.
She wrote: Sometimes I think that if we had just held out for six months…
David closed his phone.
An old pattern.
He called her.
— Mom.
— I know.
— No, listen to me.
— That the project worked out later doesn't turn what you did into the right decision.
— I know.
— You just wrote «if we had held out».
— You're right.
— There was no «holding out».
— It was money.
— Yes.
— Claire had cancer.
— I was deployed.
— You forged communications.