“I read about your hotel in Asheville. It’s getting incredible reviews.”
“Thank you.”
“And the property in Savannah, the one you’re renovating. It looks beautiful.”
I looked at her.
“You’ve been researching my company.”
“I wanted to understand what you’ve built. And Emma, it’s impressive. Really impressive.”
“I’ve been telling my colleagues about it,” Dad added. “Your business model, the way you identify underperforming properties and turn them around, it’s smart.”
Mom reached across the table and touched my hand.
“I read your apology,” I said. “All three of them.”
“I meant every word.”
“I know this doesn’t fix everything,” Dad said. “But we want to try to actually know you, not the version we assumed you were.”
I looked at my family: flawed, complicated, capable of cruelty, but also apparently capable of growth.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try.”
It was not a fairy-tale ending. We did not hug and cry and instantly become a perfect family. But it was honest, and that mattered more.
