on her face that he was afraid she was about to be overwhelmed, Ash said, “Surely she’d want you to be happy.”
Macy frowned. “Actually, happiness wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Busyness. Usefulness. Those things ruled, and she had zero tolerance for anything that interfered.”
Ash considered that. It was so far outside of his own experience, he had a hard time imagining it. When he was growing up, his mother had taken him out of school so that he could experience perfect weather or she’d kept him up too late watching shooting stars to make his first period and she’d refused to let him take a required shop class because the main project was a gun rack.
For Donna Kingfisher, life was about loving each day. Work was a part of that, but not the biggest part. She’d been a successful lawyer, but she’d retired at sixty, determined not to miss out on all the things she’d been putting off. His father had put on a suit and tie and been an accountant at the electric company for forty years.
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