Vincent had finally learned his place in our lives: he was an anonymous shadow, providing brick and mortar from the dark, while I provided the soul.
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“Then you make sure you honor that laboratory, Noah,” I said gently, setting my cup down with a peaceful smile.
“Work until your fingers ache, and build something that helps the world understand its own patterns,” I encouraged him.
“I will, Mom,” he promised, reaching across the small wooden table to cover my hand with his strong, steady palm.
“And what about you? Are you going to return to that tiny apartment in Springfield?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
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“I received an official letter from the state health board this morning, Noah,” I shared, pulling an envelope from my handbag.
“They’ve offered me the administrative directorship of the new pediatric outpatient clinic in Worcester,” I revealed.
Noah’s eyes widened with pure delight, jumping up from his chair to pull me into an enthusiastic embrace right on the patio.
