"She used to tell me everything," Richard said eventually. "When she was little, she'd call me to explain what she drew in school. She'd call before bedtime because she wanted me to settle an argument with her mother. Somewhere that stopped."
"Maybe she got tired of leaving messages."
"That's a hell of a thing to say to somebody."
"It's a hard thing to hear. There's a difference."
Richard gave a humorless breath. "You talk like you know how to be a perfect father."
"I don't. I'm scared every day that I'm getting something wrong. My son tells me when I do, and I try to listen instead of telling him I must be right because I'm older."
Richard was silent again. When he finally spoke, his voice had softened. "What would you have me do?"
"Start with a phone call that isn't on the schedule. Ask her about the project she's presenting. Then listen to her answer. Don't make it about Catherine. Don't make it about me. Let it be about Lily."
"You make it sound simple."
Daniel almost smiled at the familiar phrase. "It isn't simple. But it's a start."
Richard drew a long breath. "I'll think about it."
"I hope you do."
"And the fence?" Richard asked abruptly, as if he needed to end with something less vulnerable. "I drove past again. It's good work."
"Thank you."
When the call ended, Daniel remained in the truck a few moments longer. He had not intended to become a bridge between Richard and Lily, and he did not want Richard to mistake a conversation for a permanent invitation into their private disagreements. Yet he also understood that helping Catherine did not have to mean treating Richard as an enemy whose every good impulse should be doubted. A child could benefit from the adults in her life becoming less interested in winning.
Catherine called that afternoon to ask whether Richard had contacted him. Daniel told her the truth, including the parts that might make her uncomfortable. He did not dramatize Richard's questions or take credit for the man's uncertain willingness to listen. Catherine was quiet for a while after he finished.
"He should have talked to me," she said.
"Yes. He should have."
"And you shouldn't have to mediate our family."
"I don't intend to. I answered a call. I told him what I could honestly say, and then I got back to work."
She sighed. "I'm angry that you had to have that conversation. I'm also relieved you did. Both feelings seem true."
"They can both be true."
"I know." She waited a beat. "I'm getting better at that."