It took a few seconds for Oskar to connect the dots. “Oh, Bennett, there are two things my daughter inherited from her mother. One is her eye for art, and the second is her stubbornness. Once Lisa makes up her mind about something, that’s it, and trying to convince her otherwise would be like me trying to stop the tide from rolling in…not that I would, mind you.”

“What?”

“Bennett, this is Lisa’s decision. Hanna and I didn’t stand in Gunnar’s way when he made his choice, and we won’t stand in Finn’s way whenever he decides what he wants to do. If this is what Lisa wants, then so be it.”

“How can you say that? Do you really want her to be—”

“It’s not up to me. Don’t you get that?” Oskar said, raising his voice just a bit. “And it’s not up to her mother either. It doesn’t work like that. You, of all people, should know that. Choices are given, and decisions are made. Period.”

“But you’re her parents. You could change her mind,” Bennett said, keeping one eye on the man as she picked up her coffee. “Oskar, Lisa is an intelligent, wonderful woman. She’s kind, and she’s…goddammit, she’s perfect. Please, I beg you. Please, don’t let her do this.”

Oskar leaned back in his chair, studying Bennett while he thought back to twelve years earlier. In the dark of night, Bennett had stepped off the plane, walking across the damp tarmac toward the awaiting car. She hadn’t seen Oskar and his children for almost twenty years, and that night, as he had re-introduced his children to their future employer, he saw something in Bennett’s eyes, and he was seeing it again.

It pained Oskar that Bennett was still in anguish over things long since gone, yet it wasn’t up to Oskar to ease her concerns. They were valid based on Bennett’s history, but based on what Oskar knew about his daughter, they were not.

Oskar fixed Bennett with a calculating stare. “When was the last time you fed?”

Bennett’s eyes met Oskar’s. “And that’s your business why?”

“Because some things never change. Retired or not, I’m still a guardian,” Oskar said, getting to his feet. “And in this light, I can see you’re a little pale, which tells me that you’re continuing to push the envelope and depend on that bagged crap, which we both know isn’t what you need.”

“It carries me through.”

Oskar stopped next to Bennett, and rolling up his sleeve, he held out his wrist. “Yes, it does, but this is better. Now, take it.”

“I’ll do no such—”

“Goddammit, Bennett. If Hanna finds out you were here and I didn’t do this, she’ll have my head.”

“Then don’t tell her.”