I stepped forward and offered the gift I'd spent weeks preparing. It was a painting I'd paid a considerable price for, a piece by an artist Adrian Lennox had admired for years.
Adrian Lennox and Adrian Ashford finally spared me a glance. A flat acknowledgment, a wave of the hand. One of the compound staff took the box. It wasn't even opened. It was set directly onto the pile with everything else.
I watched the whole thing. My heart was perfectly still.
Then Adrian Winslow stepped up with the tin of tea she'd brought, her voice breezy and light. "Happy birthday, Daddy. I just grabbed this on a whim. It's probably nothing special, so don't hold it against me."
Adrian Lennox and Adrian Ashford took it immediately, unwrapping it on the spot, turning the tin over in their hands, their smiles deepening with every second.
"We love it. We love anything from our Winslow! Take it back inside, keep it safe. Don't let anything happen to it!"
Anyone watching could see it was ordinary tea, worth a fraction of what my painting had cost. But the difference in how they received it couldn't have been wider.