“I wanted you to ask.”
“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”
“That was the problem with us.”
“What?”
“We kept respecting requests nobody actually made.”
Dad smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
They stood beside each other for a while.
Then Luis walked toward the unfinished community room.
“What are you doing with this wall?”
“Windows.”
“Too small.”
“You haven’t seen the plans.”
“I’ve photographed workshops for thirty years. They’re too small.”
Dad frowned.
“They are perfectly adequate.”
Luis called to Derek.
“Your father is already ruining the building.”
Derek looked delighted.
And just like that, the Ruiz brothers were arguing about windows after forty years apart.
Mom came beside me.
“Good.”
“You call that good?”
“They’re discussing windows.”
She smiled.
“Not the past.”
Luis stayed involved.
He did not move back to Carmona.
Nobody asked him to.
That was part of what Dad had learned.
Reconnection did not require possession.
Family did not need everyone under one roof.
Luis returned to Santa Fe and agreed to photograph our finished furniture for the business.
He also donated prints from his career to the community room.
Six months later, we opened.
The sign outside read:
RUIZ BROTHERS WORKSHOP
RESTORATION • FURNITURE • COMMUNITY CRAFT
Underneath, in smaller letters:
MAKE ROOM AT THE TABLE.
Dad pretended not to like the slogan.
Everyone knew he loved it.
The opening was small.
Neighbors came.
Old clients came.
The county clerk came because Inez had apparently told half the town.
Bellweather sent two representatives.
Mom brought enough food for twice the number of guests.
Luis flew in.
And for the first demonstration in the community room, Dad taught six adults how to make a simple wooden box.
He placed a block plane on the table.
