Rowan visited Willowbrook for the first time in six years.
He had sold part of his food logistics company and looked older, richer and less certain.
"Claire said I should see what you've done."
"Claire gives orders now?"
"She always did. We were just slow learners."
They walked through the workshop.
Rowan paused beside a wall displaying the history of Sunward: Daniel's first rough basket, Stanley's last piece, George's early designs, Callum's pumpkin lantern, photographs of Edith teaching students.
"You could scale this nationally," Rowan said.
Martin felt the old reflex.
"I know."
"But you won't?"
"Not in the way you mean."
Rowan nodded.
"I lent you money because I thought you'd learned not to be reckless. I didn't realise you'd learn not to be hungry."
"I'm still hungry."
"For what?"
Martin looked through the glass wall toward the village green where Leo, now a teenager, was helping Daniel unload boxes.
"Continuity."
It was not a word his younger self would have understood.