magically.
They still worried about money.
Derek still worked too much.
Veronica occasionally slipped into trying to organize everyone.
But now someone could say, “Veronica, enough,” and she could hear it without treating disagreement as rejection.
That was growth.
Small enough to miss if you were searching only for grand gestures.
After the opening, I found Dad alone in the original workshop behind the house.
The rusty key rested on his palm.
“You still carrying that?”
“No.”
He walked toward the workbench.
The hidden compartment remained open.
Inside were Granddad’s
