"You could still keep the workshop."
"Maybe. But a job like this would keep following me home. I'd think about the next quarterly review while Alice was telling me about her garden. I'd measure the day by how much I got done for Sterling Living, not by whether I did good work for the person standing in front of me. I know myself well enough to know that could happen."
Victoria looked down at the agreement. He continued, "I don't resent what this company became. I don't want to pretend I was never part of it, either. If you want to credit the work accurately, that matters. If you want me to answer technical questions occasionally, I can do that at a fair consulting rate, with limits we both understand. But I don't want to become someone else to prove that the person I am now is valuable."
She let out a slow breath. "All right. No formal position."
His shoulders loosened. "Thank you."
"And I'm not going to spend the next hour trying to persuade you."
"That may be the most generous thing you've offered me yet."
She laughed, and the two of them stood beside the cabinet for a while without discussing contracts. The company would later correct its archival records and acknowledge Daniel and the other designers in materials that described the collection's origins. He approved the factual wording but declined a publicity campaign. The recognition mattered, and so did the fact that he was allowed to decide how much of his private life belonged to the story.
Victoria found herself unexpectedly proud that he had refused the job. Not because she wanted him to remain poor or distant from her world, but because his decision was rooted in a clearer understanding of himself than many people with far greater authority possessed. She was learning that admiration did not require ownership, and affection did not give her a right to rearrange another person's future. She had spent a career acquiring things; learning to leave something precious where it belonged was a new discipline.
Before he left, she asked whether he had any plans for the weekend. He said he was helping Alice clear leaves from the garden and taking the truck out to collect some reclaimed lumber from an old barn. Victoria looked down at her immaculate shoes, then back at him. "Could I come?"
"You know there'll be dirt and splinters."
"I'm beginning to suspect those won't kill me."
"Then bring gloves. And don't wear shoes you like."
She smiled. "I'll find some I don't."