Chapter 9 - THE MAN WHO DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO STAY
Sebastian's board of directors noticed the changes before anyone else.
He began leaving meetings on time.
He stopped answering calls during dinner.
He declined an invitation to spend two weeks negotiating a resort acquisition in California.
His chief financial officer, Martin Kessler, looked genuinely alarmed.
“Sebastian, we're talking about a ninety-million-dollar opportunity.”
“I know.”
“You've spent six months pursuing it.”
“I know.”
“And now you're postponing?”
Sebastian closed the file.
“Yes.”
Martin stared.
“Why?”
Sebastian considered the question.
“Because my father asked me to help him plant tomatoes.”
For several seconds, Martin said nothing.
Then he removed his glasses.
“Are you feeling all right?”
Sebastian laughed.
“Better than I have in years.”
At home, however, Nora wasn't entirely convinced.
She had seen people make dramatic promises during moments of emotional crisis.
Then return to their old habits when life became inconvenient.
Sebastian seemed different.
But she wasn't prepared to trust the change completely.
One afternoon, while she was preparing lunch, he entered the kitchen carrying an expensive leather folder.
“Nora, I'd like to discuss something.”
She glanced up.
“If it's another painting, I'm busy.”
He smiled.
“No.”
He placed the folder on the counter.
Inside was an employment contract.
Nora skimmed the first page.
Then stopped.
“Sebastian.”
“Yes?”
“This salary is ridiculous.”
He looked confused.
“I thought you'd appreciate a raise.”
“I would.”
“Then what's wrong?”
“This is nearly four times what we agreed.”
“You've transformed my father's health.”
“No,” Nora answered firmly. “Your father is receiving medical care, companionship, and food he enjoys. He's working hard too.”
Sebastian nodded.
“Of course.”
She continued reading.
Then her expression changed.
The contract required her to live at the mansion.
Be available outside ordinary working hours.
And avoid outside employment without Sebastian's approval.
She closed the folder.
“No.”
He stared.
“You haven't finished reading.”
“I read enough.”
“Nora, the arrangement would give you financial security.”
“It would also take away my independence.”
He frowned.
“That isn't the intention.”
“Then why does it say I need your permission to work anywhere else?”
Sebastian glanced at the page.
He had let his attorneys draft the contract using the same terms applied to executive household staff.
He hadn't questioned it.
“I can have that changed.”
“You should.”
“Nora—”
“And I won't move Ruby out of her school just because living here would be more convenient for you.”
His expression tightened.
“That's not fair.”
She looked at him.
“Neither is asking a mother to rearrange her child's entire life without discussing it.”
He was silent.
Then he looked at the contract again.
For the first time, he saw what Nora saw.
An impressive offer that assumed money gave him the authority to decide how another person's life should work.
He closed the folder.
“You're right.”
Nora blinked.
“That's a new one.”
He laughed.
“I deserved that.”
That evening, Sebastian returned with a revised proposal.
No residential requirement.
No restrictions on outside work beyond reasonable conflict-of-interest terms.
Defined working hours.
Paid leave.
Benefits.
A salary appropriate for her responsibilities, negotiated rather than imposed.
Nora read it carefully.
Then she nodded.
“This is better.”
Sebastian smiled.
“Will you accept?”
“I'll discuss it with Ruby.”
He looked surprised.
“You need her permission?”
Nora smiled.
“I need to know what works for our family.”
He nodded.
For once, he understood.
Over the following weeks, Nora began noticing something else.
Sebastian was becoming more comfortable in the kitchen.
He learned to chop onions without nearly losing a finger.
He learned that salt wasn't something you added only after dinner was cooked.
He learned to wash dishes without treating the task as an emergency requiring outside assistance.
And slowly, Nora learned things about him.
He had started his first software company from a rented office above a mechanic's shop.
He hated crowded elevators.
He had once wanted to become a carpenter, like his father.
He had stopped playing piano after his mother's death.
One evening, she found him standing beside the old upright piano in the family room.
He touched the keys.
“Mom taught me this.”
Nora leaned against the doorway.
“What?”
He played a few uncertain notes.
A simple melody.
Then stopped.
“I've forgotten most of it.”
“Then learn it again.”
He shook his head.
“I'm not much good anymore.”
She smiled.
“Neither was I the first time I made bread.”
He looked at her.
“And now?”
“Now I make bread badly with great confidence.”
He laughed.
Then began playing again.
Ruby noticed the growing warmth between them.
One afternoon, while helping Nora make biscuits, she asked, “Do you like Mr. Brooks?”
Nora almost dropped the rolling pin.
“Of course. He's our employer.”
Ruby gave her a skeptical look.
“That's not what I meant.”
Nora felt heat rise in her cheeks.
“Ruby.”
“He looks at you funny.”
“Funny how?”
“Like Dad used to look at you when you made pancakes.”
Nora stopped moving.
For a moment, the kitchen seemed very quiet.
Ruby's face changed.
“Sorry, Mom.”
Nora knelt beside her.
“You don't have to apologize for remembering Dad.”
Ruby looked down.
“Would it be bad if you liked somebody else?”
Nora felt tears rise.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Would it mean you forgot him?”
She pulled Ruby close.
“Never.”
Ruby hugged her.
Then whispered, “I think Dad would want you to laugh again.”
Nora closed her eyes.
She had spent three years believing that happiness might somehow betray Daniel's memory.
Now her daughter was reminding her that love wasn't something that disappeared when life changed.
That evening, Nora found Sebastian waiting on the porch.
The lake reflected the sunset.
He held two cups of tea.
“One's for you,” he said.
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
They stood quietly.
Then Sebastian asked, “Do you ever feel guilty when you're happy?”
Nora looked at him.
“All the time.”
He nodded.
“Me too.”
She studied his face.
“Because of your mother?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“And because I spent so many years believing my business mattered more than being present.”
Nora sipped her tea.
“Guilt can tell us we've done something wrong. But it can't tell us how to live the rest of our lives.”
Sebastian looked toward the lake.
“Then what does?”
She considered the question.
“Maybe the people we're willing to show up for.”
He turned toward her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Sebastian smiled.
“Ruby says I'm getting better at macaroni and cheese.”
Nora laughed.
“She says you're barely passing.”
“Progress.”
She nodded.
“Progress.”
And as the sun disappeared over the mountains, Sebastian realized he wanted to keep standing there.
May you like
Not because the conversation was important.
But because Nora was.
