Dr. Vance didn’t seem to hear me. He stepped back, shaking his head in a mix of awe and utter disbelief. “Twenty-five years…” Vance breathed, his eyes tracing the heavy calluses on my dad’s hands. “We thought you were dead. The department, the board, the international committee… everyone thought you perished in the accident. But you’ve been here? Working in construction?”
“It’s a honest living, Arthur,” my dad replied coldly, his eyes narrowing. “More honest than the lives some people build on stolen foundations.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and venomous.
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