He had not expected that.
“How’s Lily?”
“Talking.”
Margaret’s eyes filled immediately.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She pressed one hand against her chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to—”
“It’s okay.”
“She’s really talking?”
“Sometimes more than I’m prepared for.”
Margaret laughed.
“Good.”
Daniel looked at Gerald, the succulent.
“Still alive?”
“Barely.”
“Some things never change.”
Margaret looked toward the badge scanner clipped to his belt.
“Temporary credential.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because the last time you handed me a permanent one, you ruined my week.”
They both smiled.
Daniel walked past his former desk later that morning.
Someone else occupied it.
Different photographs.
Different mug.
Different life.
For a brief moment he felt something like grief.
Then not.
Twelve years had not disappeared because he left.
They had simply become completed years.
Brendan found him near the stairwell.
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
Brendan hugged him hard.
Then stepped back.
“So you quit, move to the country, make the CEO drive after you, come back running a company-wide program.”
“That is not exactly what happened.”
“That’s how I’m telling it.”
“Please don’t.”
“Too late.”
Daniel glanced toward the stairwell.
“You still take the elevator?”
“Obviously.”
Daniel opened the door.
“Come on.”
They walked down half a flight.
The old window between floors nine and ten was exactly the same.
Portland spread beyond it.
Morning light.