“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the mom face.”
“I don’t have a mom face.”
“You absolutely have a mom face.”
I pointed at him.
“See? This is what I’ve been saying.”
Daniel groaned.
“Never agree with me about my mother.”
The room went silent.
Then Karen laughed.
Then I laughed.
Eventually, even Daniel did.
Not everything healed at once.
But things rarely do.
Two years later, Second Chapter expanded into the neighboring storefront.
Karen started hosting local authors.
The coffee improved.
Michael’s second marriage lasted eleven months.
Daniel changed jobs and moved across town.
And me?
I stopped caring whether people understood the arithmetic.
Twenty years.
That was the number everyone saw.
I saw other numbers.
The number of nights Karen stayed awake helping me prepare a presentation when I started my own consulting business.
The number of Saturday mornings I spent moving boxes at the bookstore.
