43. Vanessa, Teresa, and Patrick joined the two cousins at the table

Vanessa, Teresa, and Patrick joined the two cousins at the table. Russell stood up, rearranging the chairs to make space for everyone, his movements quick and precise. The waiters, attentive as ever, swooped in to ensure everything was perfect, adjusting the table settings to accommodate the newcomers.

Ted, lost in thought, let a faint smile tug at his lips. Money, he mused to himself. What are you, really? You hold so much power, yet you trap your owners, making them immovable. Where were you when one of your current owners was breaking his back, moving bricks for other people’s dreams?

Vanessa broke his reverie. “Russell, what are you doing with my dearest brother?” she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes sharp.

Russell grinned. “I’m stealing him from you.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Sit down, take it easy,” Russell replied, pulling out chairs for Vanessa, Teresa, and Patrick.

As they settled in, Russell turned to Vanessa. “Nessa, you left your brother to fend for himself. He needed help, so I stepped in.”

Vanessa’s expression hardened. “Research? I’m done with it, Russell. Finished. I’m not a Martian. I live here, on Earth. I don’t care if Martians are blue, green, or polka-dotted—it doesn’t affect me.”

Patrick leaned in, his tone calm but firm. “Well, I’m in The Patrick Primary, Nessa.”

“Green giants from Mars,” Vanessa muttered under her breath.

Patrick didn’t let it slide. “Green giants or blue giants—it doesn’t concern you. But this is important work, and I’m proud to be part of it.”

Vanessa’s gaze sharpened. “It’s my brother’s work, Patrick. Don’t you dare mess with it. I’ve invested my whole life in this. When it’s harvest time, you don’t just stroll in and take the land without a fight.”

Patrick’s jaw tightened. “He’s my brother too, Vanessa. And, for the record, the project is fascinating—magnificently so. You should try supporting it instead of dismissing it.”

The tension between the siblings thickened as their words took on a sharp edge, the kind of friction born from love but clouded by years of misunderstandings.

Russell raised his hands, his voice cutting through the storm. “Enough. People never learn from history, do they? Look at Gramps. He spent decades without a loving family because of his arrogance, his unwillingness to bend. Do we really want to repeat his mistakes? Now look at us—squabbling over something so trivial, something that should be bringing us together, not tearing us apart.”

His words lingered in the air, silencing the table. For a moment, all that could be heard was the faint hum of the waiters moving in the background.

Ted finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Russell’s right. We’re family. Whatever differences we have, they pale in comparison to what we’ve been through together. This project—The Patrick Primary—isn’t about one of us. It’s about all of us. It’s about what we can build together, not apart.”

Vanessa looked down at her hands, her voice softer now. “I just don’t want to lose the heart of it, Ted. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ted reached across the table, placing a hand over hers. “You won’t, Nessa. You never could. This project is as much yours as it is mine, as it is Patrick’s, as it is Russell’s. We just have to work together.”

Patrick nodded, his earlier defensiveness melting away. “Let’s make it something worth all the sacrifices, all the struggles.”

The siblings exchanged glances, the tension easing into something warmer, more hopeful. Russell leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, looks like the Maglev’s back on track.”

The table erupted in laughter, the earlier friction dissipating like steam into the night air. For now, at least, the family was whole again, bound by love, ambition, and a shared dream.