“I never saw this.”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“No. You don’t.”
“You’re going to tell me your assistant handled your mail. Or somebody made a mistake. Or you were traveling.”
“Because I didn’t get these.”
Her voice stayed quiet.
“Then explain the phone call.”
I stopped.
“What phone call?”
Cassandra looked over at the children.
Luke was coloring four figures now. Violet was drawing red circles on another page.
“About six weeks after they were born, someone called me.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t give me a last name. She said she worked around you.”
“What did she say?”
Cassandra hesitated.
Then she met my eyes.
“She said you knew.”
My fingers tightened around the letter.
“Knew what?”
“That Luke and Violet had been born.”
I stared at her.
“And?”
“She said you’d decided it would be better if there wasn’t contact.”
“That’s a lie.”
Violet glanced up at the sharpness in my voice.
I softened it at once.
“Cassandra, that’s a lie.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know that now.”
That hurt in a way anger never could.
“What else did she tell you?”
“That Prescott Technologies was going through an important period. That questions about children from a former relationship could become public. That you had worked too hard to let a personal situation damage the company.”
I could barely force out the next words.
“And you believed her?”
Cassandra’s face tensed.
“You canceled our wedding because of work.”
I said nothing.
“You missed my father’s memorial because you were closing a deal.”
I looked down.
“You once left Thanksgiving dinner twenty minutes after arriving because somebody in Chicago needed you.”
She wasn’t exaggerating.
That was the problem.
“So yes, Damon. I believed her.”
The Photograph in the Envelope
The envelope held another photograph.
Two newborns lay side by side beneath white hospital blankets.
Luke’s mouth hung open.
Violet’s fist rested against his cheek.
I flipped it over.
Cassandra’s handwriting was on the back.
They both have your eyes.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“How old were they here?”
“Two days.”
I ran my thumb along the photo’s edge.
“Were they okay?”
Cassandra’s face softened a little.
“Luke was small. Violet was smaller. We stayed in the hospital longer than expected, but they were okay.”
“Were you alone?”
She didn’t reply.
That was answer enough.
I looked over at Luke.
He was still drawing.
Four people.
Three were filled in with color.
The fourth was only an outline.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Luke put his arm over the drawing.
“Not done.”
Cassandra nearly smiled.
My phone buzzed again.
11 unread messages.
Then one more.
I turned it face down.
Cassandra noticed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend your life stopped because you found us.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You have a company waiting for you in Denver.”
“I have two children sitting six feet away from me.”
She looked down at her hands.
I wanted to tell her I’d fix it.
The words nearly slipped out.
But I was good at fixing companies. Contracts. Numbers. Problems with deadlines and measurable results.
No contract could give me back Luke’s first word.
No amount of money could tell me what Violet had been like as a baby.
So I asked something else.
“What do you want me to do?”
Cassandra seemed surprised.
“Right now?”
“From now on.”
She studied me for several seconds.
“Show up.”
“That’s it?”
“No expensive gifts. No lawyers arriving tomorrow. No deciding that because you’re Damon Prescott, you suddenly get to rearrange everybody’s life.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
“They don’t know you.”
That sentence hit harder than anything else she’d said.
“I know.”
“You don’t get to walk in and ask them to call you Dad.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t promise them things unless you’re going to do them.”
I looked at Luke.
“When can I see them again?”
Cassandra paused.
“We’re staying with Daniel tomorrow.”
Her brother.
I remembered his house.
“Christmas morning?”
“Around nine.”
“I’ll be there.”
Her gaze held mine.
“Don’t say it unless you mean it.”
“Nine o’clock.”
11:44 P.M.
We landed in Denver a little after nine.
Luke fell asleep before we got to the gate.
I watched Cassandra wrestle with Violet, the stuffed elephant, two backpacks, and a folded stroller.
I stood up.
“Can I carry him?”
She looked unsure.
“He’s heavy.”
“I can manage.”
She touched Luke’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart, Damon is going to carry you for a minute, okay?”
Luke barely opened his eyes.
Then he stretched both arms up toward me.For illustration purposes only
I had negotiated acquisitions worth hundreds of millions of dollars with steady hands.
They trembled when I lifted my son.
His cheek came to rest on my shoulder.
A red crayon was still gripped in his fist.
I carried him down the jet bridge.
Cassandra and I didn’t speak.
At baggage claim, Daniel was there to meet them.
He saw me holding Luke and stopped in his tracks.
His face showed exactly how much Cassandra had told him over the years.
I carefully handed Luke over to him.
“Tomorrow at nine,” I told Cassandra.
She nodded.
“Nine.”
Then I headed downtown.
My team was waiting in a conference room.
Twenty minutes into the meeting, I found that the employment protection clause had been cut from the final acquisition agreement.
“Who authorized this?”
My CFO shifted uncomfortably.
“It improved the numbers.”
“It affects four hundred employees.”
“Potentially. Over thirty months.”
Six months earlier, I probably would have signed.
Instead, I slid the agreement back across the table.
“Put it back.”
“Damon, we’re against the clock.”
“Then work faster.”
We wrapped up at 11:44 p.m.
People popped champagne.
Someone shook my hand and called it the biggest deal in company history.
I stepped into the hallway and looked at my phone.
There was one message from Cassandra.
No words.
Just a photograph.
Luke and Violet were asleep together on Daniel’s couch.
Between them lay Luke’s drawing from the airplane.
Four people.
The fourth figure was still blank.
Christmas Morning
I arrived at Daniel’s house at 8:52.
I’d brought pancake mix, strawberries, two small wrapped presents Cassandra had approved, and a box of crayons.
Daniel opened the door.
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