We pressed Nora directly. “Bring him home,” Martin urged one evening. “If he’s so important, let us meet him.” She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, then set it down. “Not yet,” she said. Her tone was soft but unyielding. “It’s not the right time.”
Martin’s anger flared. “If he’s good enough for you, he should be good enough for us,” he snapped. Nora’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “It’s not about good enough,” she whispered. “It’s timing, dad, and—.” She never completed that sentence. She pushed her chair back, leaving her dinner untouched. Silence followed.