He didn’t fully understand the shares or the estate or the significance of whatever Margaret had quietly been building all those years while he was busy with the soil and the seasons. He’d need someone to explain all of it slowly. What he understood was simpler. His wife had taken care of him even after she was gone.
He put his hat on, straightened the brim, and followed them toward the corridor — the same corridor Gerald Fitch had spent two hours making sure he never reached. As he passed Cindy’s desk he slowed for just a moment. She was sitting very still, eyes not quite meeting his. “Thank you for your help this morning,” he said. Because it wasn’t in him to do otherwise.