“Eventually.”
Daniel nodded.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
For the first time in his adult life, Daniel asked instead of demanded.
It was a small beginning.
But beginnings rarely announce how important they will become.
Three days later, I received another call.
This one was from Barbara.
“Claire.”
“What do you need?”
“To apologize.”
I almost ended the call.
Then she said, “Not for Daniel.”
I waited.
“For me.”
Barbara’s voice trembled.
“I spent years making you feel as though daughters were somehow less valuable.”
My jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“I told myself they were jokes.”
“They weren’t.”
“I know.”
I said nothing.
“I was repeating what Charles had repeated to me for decades. Sons. Names. Legacy.”
Her voice broke.
“And now I understand how much damage I helped create.”
I looked through the window at Emily and Grace walking home from their new school.
They were laughing beneath one umbrella.
