There was a pause on the other end. “Understood, Sir.”
I hung up.
Outside, Mara had gone quiet. Mark didn’t say anything else.
I started the engine and drove away.
When I got home, the girls were at the table with my mother, their heads bent close together as they colored, crayons scattered across the surface and laughter slipping out in small bursts.
Outside, Mara had gone quiet.
I stood in the doorway for a second, just watching.
My mother looked up. “How was your day, Arnie?”
I smiled.
“Never better, Mom.
That was a month ago.
The mansion that had once belonged to Mara and Mark was repurposed into a residential retreat center for injured veterans, complete with therapy rooms, a garden, and a workshop space where people with adaptive limb needs could work through problems the same way I once did.
The mansion was repurposed into a residential retreat center for injured veterans.
I named it after nothing in particular. I didn’t want a monument to myself.
I wanted a place where people who had lost something could learn they weren’t finished.
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