That caught me.
“You wanted a bookstore?”
She looked surprised.
“Daniel never told you?”
“No.”
“He probably doesn’t know.”
“Michael?”
“He knew.”
Past tense.
I noticed that.
“What happened?”
“Life.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s accurate.”
She stirred her coffee.
“When Daniel was young, Michael’s career took off. We moved twice. Then Daniel needed stability. Then Michael traveled more. Then my father got sick.”
She shrugged.
“One year became five. Five became fifteen.”
“And the bookstore?”
“Became a story I told myself about another person.”
I watched her.
“Open it.”
She laughed.
“You say that as though retail real estate and retirement accounts don’t exist.”
“They exist.”
“Thank you for confirming.”
“But you could still do it.”
She studied me.
“You really think people get second lives?”
“I think most people get as many lives as they’re brave enough to start.”
“That sounds suspiciously wise.”
“I read it on a cereal box.”
