Part 5: The Richest Man at the Table
Two hours after Chloe signed the final papers, I returned home beneath a deep blue evening sky. The porch light glowed over the driveway, and before I even opened the door, I could hear the familiar noise of the life I had spent fifteen years building.
Music played from the kitchen, roasted chicken and garlic bread filled the house with their smell, and six voices competed over who deserved the best seat at the dinner table.
I stepped into the kitchen carrying a platter of warm bread and stopped in the doorway.
Jessi stood at the stove stirring pasta sauce while laughing with her husband. Fiona was setting out plates with the younger girls, while Clara and Lily sat nearby comparing photographs from their weekend soccer tournament.
Fiona noticed me first.
“Dad! Why are you just standing there? The food’s getting cold!”
