The powerful old man.
The happy child.
For a moment, their eyes almost met.
Julian lowered his head and returned to sweeping the leaves.
Eleanor felt someone pass behind her but didn’t turn around.
Instead she hugged her son tightly.
“Fly high, Leo,” she whispered. “But always keep your feet on the ground.”
The setting sun bathed them in warm golden light.
Eleanor’s greatest inheritance was not steel or fortune.
