Chapter 10 – The Home He Wanted Back

Adrian looked around his son’s bedroom.

For several seconds, he didn’t speak.

Then he asked, “Where would you like to live?”

Benjamin seemed surprised by the question.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.”

“Would you be mad if I wanted somewhere smaller?”

Adrian shook his head.

“No.”

Ben picked up a small metal gear.

“I like the house at the country property.”

“The farmhouse?”

“Yeah.”

Adrian smiled faintly.

“You used to complain about the stairs.”

“They creak.”

“They do.”

“And the kitchen is really small.”

“Also true.”

Benjamin turned the gear between his fingers.

“But when we’re there, you make breakfast. And we fix stuff. And nobody makes me wear a jacket to dinner.”

Adrian looked down.

The farmhouse was a simple two-story building on the country property where he’d taught Benjamin to drive the little tractor.

It wasn’t particularly impressive.

The kitchen cabinets were old, the heating system was temperamental, and the back porch needed repairs.

But Elena had loved it.

After her death, Adrian had gradually stopped visiting.

There were too many memories.

Benjamin had never understood why.

“Do you want to move there?” Adrian asked.

“Maybe.”

“That’s a long drive to your school.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want to make another big change to your life without thinking it through.”

Ben nodded.

“Okay.”

Adrian studied him.

“What is it about this house that makes you unhappy?”

Benjamin looked toward the hallway.

“Everybody knows everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I get a bad grade, somebody knows. If I have trouble reading, somebody knows. If I don’t want to go to a party, somebody asks why.”

Adrian listened.

“And when people come for dinner, I have to act different.”

“Different how?”

“Like I’m supposed to be older.”

The answer struck Adrian harder than he expected.

He had spent years trying to prepare Benjamin for the family name, the business, and the responsibilities that came with being his son.

He hadn’t realized how often preparation had become performance.

“I thought you’d enjoy meeting people,” he said.

“Sometimes I do.”

“Then what bothers you?”

Ben hesitated.

“They always ask what I’m going to do when I grow up.”

“That’s a pretty ordinary question.”

“I know. But then they say I’m going to run everything like you.”

Adrian watched him.

“And you don’t want that?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

He looked embarrassed.

“I’m thirteen.”

Adrian laughed softly.

“You certainly are.”

Benjamin smiled.

Then his expression grew serious again.

“Can I just be thirteen for a while?”

His father reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, buddy. You can.”

The next morning, Adrian did something that surprised the entire household.

He stopped using the mansion for business entertaining.

Not permanently.

But until Benjamin felt comfortable at home again, large dinners and formal receptions would happen elsewhere.

The house would no longer be a place where the boy had to perform for guests.

Adrian also rearranged his work schedule.

He had spent years believing that every difficult decision required his personal attention.

Now he began assigning more responsibility to the managers he’d already hired.

Some protested.

A few were genuinely surprised.

But nobody resigned, and none of the businesses collapsed.

On Saturday morning, Adrian knocked on Benjamin’s bedroom door at eight.

The boy opened it wearing an old sweatshirt.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes.”

Benjamin’s face fell.

“Oh.”

Adrian held up two travel mugs.

“We are.”

Ben stared at him.

“Where?”

“The farmhouse.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What about your meetings?”

“Handled.”

Benjamin grinned.

Then he hesitated.

“Can Claire come?”

Adrian smiled.

“If she’d like to.”

I did.

Not because I was responsible for entertaining Benjamin, but because he’d asked me to see the old clock he was certain he could repair.

The farmhouse smelled faintly of cedar and the lemon soap Elena used to buy.

Benjamin rushed into the kitchen, opened an old cabinet, and found the chipped blue mug he’d used since he was little.

Adrian watched him.

“You remembered where that was?”

“Of course.”

They spent the morning in the workshop.

I watched from the doorway as Benjamin explained how the balance wheel worked in his father’s broken watch.

Adrian listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t pretend to understand everything.

When Benjamin showed him how to adjust a tiny spring, Adrian asked him to demonstrate it again.

The boy’s face lit up.

By lunchtime, the watch was ticking.

It didn’t keep perfect time yet.

But it worked.

Adrian turned it over.

There was a small engraving on the back.

For Adrian. Every minute matters. Love, Elena.

He stared at it.

Benjamin looked worried.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Adrian shook his head.

“No.”

“Are you sad?”

“A little.”

Ben studied him.

“Because of Mom?”

“Yeah.”

The boy considered that.

“I’m sad about her sometimes too.”

Adrian put down the watch.

“I know.”

“No, I mean when I can’t remember what her voice sounded like.”

Adrian’s expression changed.

Benjamin looked away.

“I don’t like telling people that.”

His father reached for him.

“Come here.”

Ben leaned against him.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Adrian said, “Your mother had this ridiculous laugh when something surprised her. She’d try to stop, and that made her laugh harder.”

Benjamin smiled.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Did she laugh at your jokes?”

“Rarely. She said I was less funny than I thought.”

Ben laughed.

Adrian laughed too.

It was the first time I had heard them talk about Elena without one of them trying to end the conversation quickly.

Later, they sat at the kitchen table and discussed the future.

Not a permanent move that afternoon.

Not another decision disguised as a surprise.

They agreed to spend weekends at the farmhouse and begin looking together for a smaller home near Benjamin’s current school.

In the meantime, Adrian would make the mansion a place where his son could be comfortable.

Benjamin would help choose his reading tutor, with Mrs. Palmer’s guidance.

His bedroom would remain his space.

And he wouldn’t be required to participate in business events.

“Can I still come if I want to?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Even if I use my cards?”

“Especially if you use your cards.”

Benjamin smiled.

A few weeks later, their new routine had begun to feel ordinary.

Adrian attended a parent-teacher meeting.

Benjamin started working with a reading specialist twice a week.

I occasionally helped him practice, but I no longer had to stand between him and an adult who was making him feel ashamed.

One evening, I found him at the dining table.

He had his original speech cards spread in front of him.

The blue letters were still large.

Some words still had pencil marks between the syllables.

But several sentences had been crossed out and rewritten.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Fixing my speech.”

I sat beside him.

“Are you sure you want to give it?”

He nodded.

“But not to thirty people.”

“Who do you want there?”

He thought about it.

“You. Dad. Nobody else.”

I smiled.

“That sounds perfect.”

Then he picked up a fresh card.

On it, he had written a new sentence in careful blue lettering.

He covered it before I could read it.

“Don’t look yet.”

I laughed.

“Okay.”

That evening, Benjamin approached his father.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Remember the speech I was supposed to give?”

Adrian nodded.

“Of course.”

“I think I’m ready now.”

His father smiled.

“Whenever you want.”

Benjamin handed him the first card.

Adrian looked at it.

Then he looked back at his son.

The card contained only seven words.

“Dad, this time, you have to start.”

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