“Of course not. Sometimes it means taxes.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then her expression crumpled.
Louis's face softened.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Maggie covered her eyes.
“I made such a mess of everything.”
He moved to the chair beside her.
She told him about Nicholas.
The elevator.
The dinner invitations.
The theater.
The kisses.
And the demolition authorization.
Louis listened quietly.
When she finished, he looked down at his hands.
Then said, “Do you love him?”
Maggie swallowed.
“I think so.”
“Does he love you?”
“I don't know.”
Her father considered.
“Did he lie?”
“He kept something important from me.”
“That's not quite what I asked.”
Maggie looked up.
Louis continued.
“Sometimes people keep quiet because they're trying to deceive us. Sometimes they're trying to spare us. And sometimes they're just cowards when it comes to having a difficult conversation.”
She gave a miserable laugh.
“Which one do you think Nick is?”
“I haven't met him.”
“That's not helpful.”
“It's honest.”
Maggie looked down.
Louis reached across the table.
“Your mother and I were married thirty-one years. Do you know how many arguments we had?”
She smiled faintly.
“Millions?”
“At least.”
“About what?”
“Money. Work. Your uncle Frank. The way I left my shoes in the hallway.”
“That last one sounds reasonable.”
“It was.”
He smiled.
“But the worst arguments weren't about what we'd done. They were about what we'd failed to say.”
Maggie listened.
“Your mother used to get angry when I kept problems to myself. I thought I was protecting her. She thought I didn't trust her.”
“And?”
“She was right.”
Maggie looked up.
Louis shrugged.
“Marriage didn't make me clever, sweetheart. It just gave me enough years to become a little less foolish.”
She smiled through her tears.
He continued.
“Now, I don't know Nicholas Sterling. Maybe he's a good man who made a bad decision. Maybe he's a man who'll keep making the same bad decision. That's for him to show you.”
Maggie stared at the table.
“But don't confuse forgiveness with pretending nothing happened.”
She nodded slowly.
“And don't confuse loving someone with surrendering the things that matter to you.”
Maggie reached for his hand.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He squeezed her fingers.
Then smiled.
“Now.”
“What?”
“Are you going to show me those new drawings, or did you come all the way to Queens just to make me worry?”
She laughed.
“I brought them.”
“Good.”
He rose.
“Let's see what those fools have done to my theater.”
The discovery came almost by accident.
Maggie spread the structural drawings across her father's kitchen table.