The panting Bartholomew slowed when he saw the faded smiley welcome mat. He hoped Alex was okay. His phone message hadn’t revealed much. Purposefully. They had agreed to be careful in case snooping ears were listening in. All he said was that he was home, and B-3 should come by.
Mopping his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief, Bartholomew wiped his feet before ringing the bell. In just a few moments he’d get to see something his father created.
For the first time ever.
All his life he’d wondered about Bartholomew Borax II. What kind of a man was he? Where did he travel to with Mother? Did he have any dreams for his soon-to-be-born son? But no matter how many times he asked, Mother refused to share. “The past is filth and nonsense,” she’d reply again and again.
The door opened and ther
