Lily came downstairs as Monica was leaving. Catherine considered sending her away until the paperwork was out of sight, then remembered the conversation they had had beside the bedroom window. She invited Lily to sit and explained that the company faced a difficult vote. She described the dispute in words her daughter could understand without asking her to solve it.
"Are they trying to fire you?" Lily asked. Catherine answered yes, then added that the decision was not final and that she was working with people who knew the rules. Lily asked whether it would mean selling the house.
"Not automatically," Catherine said. "Your father has proposed something involving the house, but I haven't agreed. I won't keep you surprised about decisions that affect where you live."
Lily watched her for a moment. "You could have told me this before I figured it out," she said. Catherine agreed. The admission felt difficult and strangely freeing, as though being wrong had not destroyed her authority after all. Lily asked if there was anything she could do, and Catherine told her she could keep being a child with a history project and a life that was not organized around executive meetings.
"I can do that," Lily said, "but you have to keep checking on me even when I'm old enough to stay alone." Catherine promised to make it a real habit instead of another item she would cancel when an urgent email arrived. They wrote no contract, set no timer, and did not pretend the change would happen perfectly. That evening Catherine joined Lily at the kitchen table for an hour and asked questions about the Underground Railroad until her daughter finally smiled at something other than a screen.
Monday brought Daniel two new repair inquiries and one problem. The four-hundred-dollar contractor sent another message saying the bank transfer had been delayed, and Daniel finally decided he had spent enough time accepting explanations that did not produce money. He emailed the formal demand, attached the signed invoice, documented the earlier promises, and copied the contractor's business office. The message was polite, specific, and written with the care of someone who knew that accuracy could be an ordinary person's best protection against a larger institution.
He started the new day repairing a wooden gate near a school, where he spent fifteen minutes explaining to the owner why replacing one damaged hinge would be cheaper than installing a completely new gate. The owner wanted to know why Daniel did not recommend the expensive option, and he gave the same answer Catherine had heard. "I'm not here to sell you a problem you don't have." The owner shook his hand and recommended Mercer Repairs to her sister in Whitfield Hollow.
By the time Daniel reached home, his phone held a voicemail from Catherine. She asked if he could review a draft letter meant for her early investors, then immediately corrected herself. "You don't need to do that," she said in the message. "I realized halfway through leaving this that it's not your responsibility. I just wanted to tell you the first meeting is tomorrow, and I'm finally doing something instead of sitting with the fear."