Just then.
The child walked over to Ian Quincy with her notebook. "Dad, I'm done."
Cecilia Adler was taken aback.
'Dad?'
'When did she start calling him that?'
"It's decent enough. That's all for today. Keep practicing tomorrow," Ian Quincy instructed.
"Okay."
Cecilia Adler said, "Claire, let me see."
Claire Jocelyn held the notebook up to Cecilia Adler's eyes.
Cecilia Adler gently pushed it back to a comfortable viewing distance. The handwriting was childish, but each stroke was deliberate, showing her earnest attitude. "It's better than my first attempts." When she learned to write her first character, her hand couldn't stop shaking. But the child's hand wasn't shaking at all. "Have you practiced before?"
The child's eyes widened. "Mom, how did you know?"
Hearing the new address, Cecilia Adler found it refreshingly sweet and smiled gently. "Your writing doesn't look like it's your first time."
