“Mom, how come the other kids at preschool have dads and we don’t?” Ethan asked one day, looking straight at her.
Kate crouched down, brushed his hair off his forehead, and answered calmly.
“You have me, you have Miss Annie, and you have a home full of people who love you,” she said. “Your father was too weak to do the job. Being a father to boys like you is an honor, and not every man is up to it.”
Meanwhile, back in the city, Richard’s business affairs were no longer going as smoothly as before.
A major development project had started swallowing money. Competition was fierce, and the market had turned rough.
But his biggest disappointment was his son.
Mike, once full of promise, had become a pale version of himself. His marriage to the mayor’s daughter turned out to be a polished cage. She cared about shopping, parties, and appearances. Nothing more.
There were no children. After expensive consultations with specialists, the couple had been told they were unlikely to have any.
Mike began drinking more than he should, trying to dull the memory of his own cowardice.
One evening at dinner, irritated by another set of ugly quarterly reports, Richard tossed a newspaper onto the table.
“Look at this,” he said, jabbing a finger at a small article about a regional food expo. “Some farm woman from out in the hills just won a major grant from a European foundation for her creamery.”
“Does that brand name mean anything to you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Mike glanced at the photo.
And froze.
The woman in the picture was unmistakably Kate. But she was no longer the frightened country girl he had abandoned. She looked composed, successful, and entirely self-possessed.
“That’s her,” he said hoarsely.
Richard snatched the paper back, his face tightening with anger.
“So she makes a few decent wheels of cheese and now thinks she’s somebody?” he said with a short, bitter laugh. “Fine. I’ve got land to inspect near that area anyway. We’ll go tomorrow.”
