He could still taste Mrs. Finch's mouth-watering chicken.
The professor's face surfaced in his memory—that warm, weathered smile.
Wilfred's head dropped.
"I'm sorry. I can't. I... don't have the face to see him."
Years ago, when he'd chosen to marry into the Pruitt family and abandon his studies, he'd told the professor himself. He could still remember the look in those eyes.
Utter devastation.
Margery stood outside the car, watching Wilfred's bowed head, the shame written across his features. Something tightened in her chest.
"I know some of what happened with your marriage back then. I know it wasn't entirely your choice."
"What I want to say is this: Wilfred, you're free now. If you still have dreams, chase them."
"No one's going to hold you back anymore."
"We're all waiting to see you rise again."
"Thank you, Miss Finch."
Wilfred let out a long breath, a confident smile returning to his face. "I promise, if I have time, I'll go visit Professor Finch."
"Alright. I'll let my grandmother know so she can make your favorite—sweet and sour ribs."
Margery smiled.
For a moment, Wilfred found himself staring, caught off guard by that smile. When he snapped out of it, he quickly looked away.