GS-The turkey was still warm when he said it. I had not returned home…

over Denver. Mom and Grace carried plates into the kitchen. Dad remained at the table, turning the ribbon box slowly beneath his hand.

“I meant what I said on the phone,” he told me.

“Which part?”

“That your work is real.”

I looked around the room—the blueprints, the pocket watch, Lily’s drawing, the table marked by its original scars.

“I know it is.”

He continue reading …