Chapter 18 - A Different FamilyA year after the night everything exploded, Mom hosted Thanksgiving.
There were no expensive decorations.
No perfect table.
No attempt to recreate the past.
Just food.
Laughter.
Too many people.
Michael brought Grace.
Grace brought a terrible pumpkin pie.
Mom pretended to hate it.
Then ate half of it.
I looked around the table.
My mother.
My brother.
My niece.
Aunt Ruth.
Employees who had become friends.
People who had survived the storm.
There was an empty chair.
Nobody mentioned it.
It belonged to the past.
After dinner, Mom walked onto the porch.
I followed.
She looked at the Dallas skyline.
“You know,” she said, “your father would hate that you sold part of the company.”
I laughed.
“He'd probably haunt me.”
She smiled.
“Maybe.”
Then she looked at me.
“But I think he'd be proud of you.”
I didn't answer.
May you like
Because that was the one thing I had wanted to hear for most of my life.
And somehow, I didn't need Dad to say it anymore.
