Mara nodded.
"I know."
He was quiet.
Then he said, "I wish I'd listened to you earlier."
Mara looked toward him.
He continued.
"About the relocation. The financial assumptions. The community organizations."
She took a breath.
"Daniel."
He shook his head.
"Let me finish."
She waited.
He looked toward the building.
"I kept treating your concerns like they were part of an argument with my mother. I didn't give the actual work the attention it deserved."
Mara was silent.
He turned toward her.
"You were right to demand more information."
She felt tears gather.
For a moment, she could not speak.
Then she nodded.
"Thank you."
Daniel looked down.
"And I'm sorry it took this long."
Mara swallowed.
A breeze moved through the courtyard.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she said quietly, "I didn't need you to agree with me about every decision."
He looked up.
"I know."
"I needed you to take me seriously."
His eyes filled.
"I know that now."
She nodded.
Then looked toward the drawings.
"Well."
He smiled faintly.
"Well?"
"There's a lot of work to do."
Daniel laughed softly.
"Yes."
Mara returned the smile.
Then they went back inside.
For once, neither needed to win an argument.
They simply needed to contribute to something worthwhile.
Evelyn's first letter to Daniel arrived in November.
He recognized her handwriting immediately.
For several minutes, he sat looking at the envelope.
Then he opened it.
The letter was four pages long.
It began with explanations.
How frightened she had been after Samuel died.
How much responsibility she believed she carried.
How the Sterling Grove investment had seemed like an opportunity to protect the family's future.
How the financial setbacks made her desperate.
Daniel read carefully.
For the first two pages, Evelyn described circumstances.
Not choices.
Then the tone changed.
I believed I could solve the financial problem before anyone learned how serious it had become.
I convinced myself that withholding information was not dishonesty if I intended to fix the situation.