The door to the bakery chimed at three o'clock on a gray October afternoon, and Vivian looked up to see Marcus standing in the doorway. He was tall for his age, with his father's dark hair and her own sharp cheekbones, but his eyes were cold and angry, shadowed with pain. He was wearing the uniform from his boarding school – crisp blazer, white shirt, tie – but it looked like he'd slept in it, and there was a tear in the sleeve.
"Marcus," Vivian said softly, wiping her hands on her apron. "Come in, honey. I've been waiting for you."
He didn't move, just stood there staring at her like she was a stranger. "Why am I here?" he said, his voice flat and empty. "Where's Father?"
"He's not coming," Vivian said, moving slowly toward him like she would with a wounded animal. "We're not going back to New York, Marcus. We're starting over here – just us, and the babies when they come."
"Starting over?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You left him. You left me at that school where everyone looked down on me because I'm his bastard son. Now you think we can just 'start over' in this… this hick town?"
Vivian's heart ached for him. She remembered what the novel had said about Marcus's childhood – sent away to boarding school at seven, only visited by Richard once or twice a year, told to be grateful for every crumb of attention he received. No wonder he'd grown up angry and bitter, easy prey for the mafia bosses who would later recruit him.
"I know you're angry," she said, stopping just a few feet away from him. "And you have every right to be. I should have left sooner. I should have taken you with me a long time ago."
"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It doesn't matter. I'm never going to be good enough for him – why should I be good enough for anyone else?"
"That's not true," Vivian said firmly. "You are good enough, Marcus. You're smart, and strong, and kind – even if you don't want anyone to see it. And you don't need anyone's approval to be worthy. Especially not his."
She led him up to the apartment, showing him to his room – she'd decorated it with things she thought he might like, based on what she'd remembered from the novel. There were books on computers and engineering, a chess set, even a guitar she'd found at a secondhand store. She'd also used the Spiritual Spring Space to grow a small garden of his favorite fruits – strawberries, blueberries, raspberries – which she'd arranged in a bowl on his desk.
Marcus looked around the room, his jaw tight. "You did this?"
"I wanted you to have a space that was just yours," she said. "Where you could be yourself, no expectations, no judgments."
He picked up one of the strawberries, turning it over in his fingers. "These aren't in season."
"I have my ways," Vivian said with a small smile. "Now, how about some dinner? I made your favorite – spaghetti and meatballs."
For a long moment, he just stood there, holding the strawberry. Then, without warning, he dropped it and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder and sobbing like he'd been holding it in for years. Vivian held him tight, running her hands through his hair and whispering words of comfort, tears streaming down her own face.
That night, as they ate dinner together and talked – really talked – Vivian learned things about Marcus that the novel had never mentioned. He loved math and science, dreamed of building computers that could change the world, but had never dared to tell Richard, who thought technology was a passing fad. He was lonely, scared, and desperate for someone to believe in him.
"I want to help you build that future you dream of," Vivian said, reaching across the table to take his hand. "I know things about technology that most people don't – things that haven't even been invented yet. Together, we can build something amazing."
Marcus looked at her, his eyes wide with hope. "Really?"
"Really," she said firmly. "But first, we're going to get you enrolled in the local high school. And you're going to make friends, and join clubs, and do all the things you should have been able to do back in New York."
Over the next few months, Vivian worked tirelessly to help Marcus heal and grow. She used the Spiritual Spring Space to create personalized study materials that matched his learning style, helping him catch up on the work he'd neglected at boarding school. She enrolled him in the school's computer club, where he quickly became the star student, building a website for the bakery that brought in customers from neighboring towns. She also introduced him to Tom, a local mechanic who was also a hobbyist programmer – the two hit it off immediately, and soon Marcus was spending his afternoons in Tom's garage, learning about both cars and code.
As Marcus began to thrive, Vivian's business plans started to take shape. She'd saved enough money from her investments to rent a small warehouse on the edge of town, where she set up a workshop to build her water purification systems. She hired Tom and two other local men to help her, paying them fair wages and offering training in modern manufacturing techniques. Within months, her company – Spring Tech Solutions – was receiving orders from towns all over the Pacific Northwest, and she'd hired a sales team to expand into other states.
But as her business grew, so did her pregnancy. The twins were due in January, and Vivian was finding it harder and harder to keep up with both work and caring for Marcus. Martha stepped in without being asked, helping with meals and cleaning, and even driving Marcus to school when Vivian was too tired. The people of Willowbrook had taken them in as their own, and Vivian knew she'd made the right choice in bringing her family her