Chapter 17 - A Quiet Friday Evening
Friday evening arrived with a peaceful, silent snowfall that blanketed Rapid City in a thick, insulating layer of white. The temperature had plummeted below freezing, but inside our house, the fireplace crackled with bright, warm orange flames, casting a cozy glow across the living room rug.
Maisie sat cross-legged on the floor with a brand-new box of colored pencils, sketching another strawberry cake—this time with the 'S' drawn perfectly forward, though she still added an extra, oversized strawberry right on top just to be safe.
I stood by the kitchen counter, whisking together the batter for a batch of homemade strawberry cupcakes using my grandmother's exact recipe. The sweet, fruity aroma of fresh strawberries and vanilla filled the air, replacing the burnt, acrid memory of synthetic leather and ash that had lingered in my mind for months.
The doorbell chimed softly.
Maisie looked up from her drawing, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity. "Are we expecting company, Daddy?"
"Just a delivery, sweetie," I smiled, walking over to the front door and turning the deadbolt.
Standing on the porch was Marcus Vance, holding a manila envelope under one arm and a large box of gourmet pizza in his other hand. A light dusting of snow sat on the shoulders of his wool overcoat.
"Evening, Heath," Marcus said, flashing a warm, professional smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting family baking hour."
"Not at all, Marcus. Come on in before you freeze," I said, stepping aside to let him enter.
Marcus unbuttoned his coat, set the pizza box on the kitchen island, and pulled the manila envelope from under his arm, sliding it across the counter. "Just wrapped up the initial arraignment paperwork downtown. Bail was denied for both of them due to flight risk and federal distribution charges. Courtney's boutique assets have been fully seized by the state, and her Facebook group has been permanently deleted by Meta for commercial fraud."
"And my parents?" I asked quietly, pouring Marcus a mug of hot coffee.
"Your father called me this afternoon," Marcus said, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. "He asked for advice on setting up a separate living trust, entirely independent of Kevin. They're keeping their heads down, but they're finally accepting reality. It'll take time, but healing usually does."
"Thanks for everything, Marcus," I said sincerely. "You didn't just win a civil suit; you helped clean up a lot of garbage."
"That wasn't me, Heath. That was you," Marcus replied, raising his coffee mug in a silent toast. "All I did was provide the courtroom."
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After Marcus left to head back home to his own family, I walked back over to the kitchen island where Maisie was eagerly inspecting the pizza box. We sat together at the kitchen table, eating pepperoni pizza and laughing over silly jokes, completely at peace with the world.
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