Nice place. Very sterile. Uh, Catherine decorated it. I haven’t changed anything since he stopped. Coffee, please. They ended up in the kitchen, which was all marble and stainless steel and looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. Ethan made coffee with the kind of precision he probably brought to everything.

measuring, timing, focusing like it was a board presentation instead of breakfast. Where’s Lily? Clara asked. Still asleep. She doesn’t have to be at school until 8:30. Good. This first session is just you and me. I want to assess where you’re at, what you remember, what we need to work on. Ethan handed her a mug, perfect temperature, perfect strength, and sat across from her at the kitchen island.

I should warn you, I’m not good at this. I tried before and failed. You’re good at learning. You built a tech company. You can learn a language. Coding is logical, predictable. This is He gestured vaguely. Human. Yeah. Clara sipped her coffee. Let’s start simple. Show me what you remember. Sign. Good morning. Ethan’s hands came up hesitant and clumsy.

He managed something that was almost right, but his hand shape was wrong. his movement too stiff. Close, Clara said. But you’re signing good basketball. Here, watch. She demonstrated her hands fluid and natural. The movement comes from the elbow, not the wrist. And you need to relax. You look like you’re trying to strangle the air. I feel ridiculous.

You look ridiculous, too, but that’s part of learning. Try again. They worked for an hour drilling basic signs, correcting hand shapes, building muscle memory. Ethan was smart. He picked things up quickly once he understood the logic. But he was also tense, self-conscious, clearly uncomfortable with looking foolish.

“You’re thinking too much,” Clara said finally. “This isn’t a business negotiation. It’s a conversation. Stop trying to be perfect and just communicate.” “I don’t know how to not be perfect.” “Yeah, I noticed. That’s a U problem, not a sign language problem. Ethan looked up, startled. Then incredibly, he laughed.

You really don’t pull punches, do you? You’re not paying me to blow smoke. You’re paying me to teach you how to talk to Lily. That means honesty. Fair enough. He attempted the sign for thank you. Got it mostly right. How am I doing? Honestly. Honestly, you’re about where I’d expect someone who studied for 6 months 3 years ago and hasn’t practiced since.

You’ve got the basics, but no fluency. It’s going to take work. I can work. I know you can. The question is whether you’ll work at this specifically or whether you’ll let it slide when things get busy at the office. Ethan’s jaw tightened. I said I’d commit. Saying and doing are different things. We’ll see.

They worked until 7:30 when Clara heard footsteps on the stairs. Lily appeared in the doorway, still in pajamas, her hair a mess, looking younger than 16 and completely shocked to find her father sitting at the kitchen island practicing sign language. She stopped, stared, then signed to Clara. Is this real? He’s trying, Clara signed back.

Give him credit for showing up. Lily’s expression was complicated. Hope and skepticism and something that might have been anger all tangled together. She turned to her father and signed slowly and deliberately, “Good morning.” Ethan’s hands came up. He hesitated, then signed back, “Good morning.” Wrong hand shape, stiff movement, but he tried.

Lily’s eyes filled with tears. She turned and fled back upstairs. Ethan started to go after her, then stopped, looking helpless. “Should I?” “No,” Clara said. “Let her process. This is a lot for her. She’s crying. She’s been waiting 3 years for you to try. Of course, she’s crying. Ethan sank back onto his stool, looking gutted. I’ve screwed this up so badly.

Yes, but you’re here now. That’s something. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Clara started packing up her materials. Same time Friday. And I want you to practice every day. 20 minutes minimum. I’ll send you videos. Wait, you’re not coming back until Friday? I have other clients, other bills.

Your daughter isn’t the only one who needs to eat. Clara softened slightly at his expression, but I’ll text you. Check your progress. And I’m taking Lily for coffee after school today, getting her perspective on all this. She agreed to that. She suggested it, actually. Turns out she likes having someone to talk to. Ethan looked like he wanted to say something else, but Clara was already heading for the door.

She’d given him 2 hours. That was enough for now. On her way out, she passed Lily’s room. The door was cracked open. Inside, Clara could see the teenager sitting on her bed, hugging her knees, staring at nothing. Clara knocked softly. Lily looked up, her face blotchy from crying. “Coffee later?” Clara signed through the doorway.

“3:00? There’s a place near your school.” Lily nodded, then signed. Did he really practice, or was he just doing it because you were watching? I don’t know yet, but he showed up. That’s more than nothing. It’s not enough. No, Clara agreed. It’s not, but maybe it’s a start. That afternoon, Clara met Lily at a coffee shop in Capitol Hill, far enough from Medina that they wouldn’t run into anyone from the billionaire’s world.

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