"To Nadine, you'll always be her baby," Seamus says with surprising gentleness."Just as my Emily will always be mine, even though she's a surgeon with three children and a mortgage."
Mom bustles around the kitchen, pulling ingredients from cupboards."I make dolma.You need comfort food."
"Mom, it's six-thirty in the morning.No one needs grape leaves before sunrise."
"Nonsense.Crisis demands proper food."She points a wooden spoon at me."Now, tell us what happened.Not the internet version.Your version."
The simple request breaks something in me.
I find myself pouring out the whole story.
The fabricated credentials.The growing feelings for Callum.
Then, the attempted confession, Duncan's ambush, and finally, the devastating conversation in Callum's office.
By the time I finish, Mom has assembled the ingredients for dolma on the counter and is methodically washing grape leaves, her arthritic hands moving swiftly in spite of the inflamed joints.
"So," she says when I fall silent, "you lied about paper, not about skills."
"That's...an oversimplification, but essentially, yes."
"And this Scottish man, he cannot forgive this?"
I stare into my now-empty coffee mug."It’s…not that easy.His brother betrayed him, embezzled from the company.Now I've lied to him.It confirms his worst fears about trusting people."
"Sounds like he's the one with the problem, not you," Seamus comments out of nowhere.
"Excuse me?"I blink at him.
"Well, consider the data."He ticks off points on his fingers."You have demonstrable skills that have saved his company's reputation multiple times.You've worked successfully in your position for months.You attempted to confess before being exposed.And your motivations were familial obligation, not malice."
"I committed fraud," I remind him.
"Aye, you did.But fraud is a spectrum, not a binary.There's a difference between lying to steal money and lying to get past arbitrary gatekeepers."
Mom nods vigorously."This man, he has never had to fight like you fight.For him, rules are protection.For you, rules are barrier."
"That's...surprisingly insightful, Mom."
"I am old, not stupid," she retorts."Come.Help with dolma.Cooking heals what talking cannot."
Somehow, I find myself at the counter, rolling grape leaves around spiced rice mixture in the rhythm we've followed since I was tall enough to reach the stove.
The motion is meditative, allowing my thoughts to settle like sediment in still water.
"Did I ever tell you about my credentials scandal?"Seamus asks suddenly.
I look up."You had a credentials scandal?"
"Indeed I did.When I came to America, the medical board wouldn't recognize my Irish qualifications.Said my schooling was 'insufficient' despite my having performed more surgeries than most of their graduates combined."He chuckles ruefully."I might have exaggerated certain aspects of my continuing education to get hospital privileges."
"Seamus!"I'm genuinely shocked."That's serious."
"So was watching patients suffer because of bureaucratic nonsense," he replies calmly."Eventually, I took the proper exams, got the proper stamps of approval.But in the meantime, I did what was necessary to practice medicine."
"What happened when people found out?"
"Some colleagues never forgave me," he admits."Others understood.The ones worth keeping in my life fell into the second category."
