Mostly, I didn’t care. I realized early on that not having my mother’s beauty was an advantage. I had good skin and bone structure, thank God, enough to achieve a passable pretty. Since I was average height and weight, not too curvy or too skinny, I was able to dress in a wide variety of ways depending on the person I chose to reflect. I wasn’t beautiful enough to cause men concern or women jealousy, and not unattractive enough to feel awkward. I built on my advantages young, learning what to accent and what to tone down, from my wardrobe to my speech, until I’d perfected the look of a female executive going places. Marriage had never been on my radar, not when meaningful, exciting work, money, and travel were at stake.

Dad would have understood. Would have cheered from the sidelines to see his only daughter reach the pinnacle of success in this cutthroat business. He’d always been driven to succeed like me and spent most of his hours building his own business. Dad moved from general construction to building homes, until he’d created a small team and cultivated a stellar reputation. He used to tell me to stay on budget and stay on time and clients would pour in.

Mom consistently complained about Dad’s absence and long work hours, but she was the only one who didn’t understand. I knew he wanted to give me better opportunities. He introduced me to a glimpse of a world with no borders if I was smart enough and driven enough to leap for it. He used to tell me I was just like him—born with stars in my eyes and wandering feet, always looking for more. He never tried to curb my dreams or make me feel like I wanted too much. He understood.

God, I missed him. His death was a bitter loss I still lingered on, especially late at night when there was no one there to soothe the doubts. The heart attack had taken him hard and fast, but the worst of the grief was the knowledge that he’d never been able to hold his granddaughter. He would’ve doted on Allegra.

The thought made me reach for my phone to call my daughter.

When she didn’t answer, I knew she was mad at me.

I’d broken another promise.