“Then apply for a job.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“What if they don’t hire me?”
“Then improve.”
He groaned.
Emma grinned.
“I’m becoming an engineer.”
“Good.”
“Less onions.”
“Probably.”
They learned what I wanted Ethan to learn.
But this time, I told them why.
Clarity.
Another lesson.
At seventy, I still lived across the street.
Yes.
Same house.
The sycamore got larger.
My old truck finally died.
Emma cried.
Noah wanted it.
I gave it to him.
He spent a year restoring it.
That scratched old dinosaur became beautiful.
Mostly.
Still had the grocery-cart dent.
I told him to leave it.
History.
Walter’s Pies stopped being a business by then.
My hands hurt too much.
I baked for family.
Margaret died at eighty-four.
Her daughter asked me to bake one last apple pie for the memorial luncheon.
I did.
No charge.
Memory still worth more than money.
