Chapter 10 - The Horizon of the Bread
The afternoon sun was warm as Ethan stepped out of the private elevator onto the penthouse terrace.
Rachel was there, her drawing pad resting on the iron table, a loaf of fresh, dark rye bread sitting on a wooden board between two cups of hot tea. The smell of the bread filled the terrace, thick, yeasty, and aggressively real against the cold air of the river.
Ruby was sitting on the edge of the brick wall, her legs swinging over the side, her white linen ribbon catching the wind from the lake. She was holding a small piece of the crust, breaking it into tiny crumbs and tossing them down toward the gulls that circled above the water.
"Don't throw it all away, Ruby," Rachel laughed, reaching out to catch her daughter’s sweater. "We need some for dinner."
"There’s plenty, Mom," Ruby said, turning with that wide, serious grin that Ethan loved more than his own life. "Ethan bought four loaves from the bakery down the street. He said we have enough to feed the whole block."
Ethan walked over to the table, picking up a piece of the bread and tasting the salt and the wheat on his tongue. He sat down in the linen chair beside Rachel, his hand finding hers beneath the edge of the drawing pad. Her fingers were warm, stained with charcoal and the sweet oil of the rye.
"The horizon looks right today," Ethan said, looking out at the lake where the water was no longer glass, but a great, blue muscle moving under the light.
"That’s because you’re looking at it from the right height, Ethan," Rachel whispered, her thumb rubbing the side of his hand.
Ruby climbed down from the wall, her small boots clicking against the terrace stone. She walked over between them, her arms coming around Ethan’s neck with that soft, unthinking weight that he had once believed was gone from the world forever. She smelled of wind, clean soap, and fresh bread.
"Are we going to stay here tomorrow?" she asked, her gray-green eyes looking into his.
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"We’re going to stay here every tomorrow, Ruby," Ethan said, his arms closing around her thin frame, holding her tight against his chest while the gulls called out above the river.
The ledger of his life was finally balanced. The walls were down; the daughters were one; and the millionaire who had once cried at a grave had finally found his way back to the kitchen.
