My heart squeezed from the painful impact of her words. “I’m right here! But she doesn’t want to talk to me—not like she talks to you. Whether it’s school or boys or friends or college, she blocks me at every turn and shuts me out. Work is the only outlet where I don’t feel like a failure, okay?” I continued to pace and let the words bubble out of my mouth. “She’s going to leave and live her own life and shut me out. If I let my business fail, I’ll be left with nothing.”

“Your business will not fail if you take some time off or institute some balance and allow others to help you. I hate to break this to you, my love, but your father found this out too late. He kept pushing for one last deal, one more year before retirement. And then it was too late because time had gotten the last laugh.”

I shook my head hard. “Dad loved what he did. I never resented his work. Not like you did.”

Pain etched lines on her face. “You don’t remember? How angry you were when he couldn’t see your school play or your soccer tournament? How about the honor society induction or when you won the first-place ribbon in the science fair? Or the daddy-daughter weekend camping trip?”

The memories were foggy. I’d never questioned his responsibilities and limitations. My mother’s role had always been clear. “I didn’t blame him.”

“What about me, Frannie? Did you blame me?”

I jerked. “Of course not. That makes no sense.”

She turned around so I couldn’t see her reaction. “Sometimes, children can’t make sense of how they feel. You were always angry with me. Resentful that I was the one to show up at all your activities, or sit with you at dinner every night, or tuck you into bed. Your father was a great man, and you revered him. It was easier that way, I think. Easier to blame me for missing him.”