"I work on the 42nd floor, and I think space is fascinating." Lily shook her hand solemnly, then lit up. "Want to come get ice cream with us? Daddy promised after my dental appointment. I didn't cry at all when they cleaned my teeth.
Lily. Daniel said gently. Miss Hale is probably I'd love to. Victoria heard herself say. 20 minutes later they sat in a small ice cream shop in Chelsea where Lily demolished a cone of cookies and cream while explaining the habitability requirements of Europa's subsurface ocean.
Victoria held a scoop of vanilla, her first ice cream in 4 years, and found herself genuinely captivated. The hard part isn't the radiation, Lily explained seriously. It's the ice crust. It's like 60 miles thick. How do you get a submarine through 60 miles of ice?
Heated drill? Victoria suggested. That's what I said. But it would take forever and you need a power source that lasts decades. Nuclear thermal generators.
Lily's eyes went wide. You know about RTGs? I used to read a lot about space when I was your age. Used to? Lily looked genuinely confused by the concept of stopping.
Victoria met Daniel's eyes across the small table. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read, surprise mixed with something warmer. I got busy, Victoria said. Building a company takes a lot of time. But what's the point of building stuff if you forget why you wanted to build it, Lily asked.
In the way children do, cutting straight to questions adults spend decades avoiding. Later, walking back toward the building, Lily skipped ahead to examine a construction crane. Daniel walked beside Victoria in comfortable silence until he said quietly I see you. Victoria stopped walking. What?
That's something Sarah used to say. I see you. Not the version of you that you show the world, the actual person underneath, the one who read about space missions and somehow forgot that part of herself. He paused. Kids are good at that.
Victoria felt something crack in her chest, like ice breaking up after a long freeze. I don't know how to live normally, she whispered. I don't know how to be the person who gets ice cream on a Tuesday afternoon or remembers what she wanted to be before or she became what everyone else needed. Then maybe, Daniel said gently. You start small.
One ice cream cone at a time. Victoria's driver looked confused when she gave him a Brooklyn address instead of her usual Park Avenue destination. The brownstone neighborhood felt entirely foreign trees in full October color, children playing on stoops, the smell of someone grilling in a backyard. Daniel's house was narrow and warm with warm hardwood floors and photographs everywhere. Sarah's face smiled from frames in every room holding newborn Lily, laughing at a beach, dancing at what must have been their wedding.
Victoria felt like an intruder in this shrine to a love story she'd never have. Don't look so worried, Daniel said, noticing her expression. We're just making spaghetti carbonara. It's actually hard to mess up if you follow the ratio. I don't cook.