“And you drew all these mechanical schematics yourself, Henry?” Margaret asked, her voice full of grandmotherly pride.

“He checked three aviation manuals out of the public library last month,” Sam cut in from the next chair, adjusting his wire-rim glasses with his middle finger.

“And Sam calculated the fuel load needed for a high-altitude climb,” Lucas added, scuffing the toe of his right dress shoe against the mahogany table leg.

Margaret reached out and pulled Henry into a long, warm hug, resting her chin against his dark navy collar.

“I missed eight years of watching you four boys grow up,” Margaret whispered, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.