Chapter 18 - The Empty Halls and the Open Door
Three days had passed since the arrests. The national legal blogs were having a field day with the downfall of Sterling & Vance, and the local newspapers ran front-page spreads detailing the unredacted ledgers recovered from the subterranean vault of Willow Creek.
The estate felt entirely different now. The heavy velvet drapes in the formal dining room, which Cheryl had kept drawn for decades to block out the sun, were pulled back wide, letting torrents of golden morning light flood the polished mahogany table.
I stood in the grand foyer, holding a box of Cheryl’s personal belongings—her leather-bound appointment books, her monogrammed stationery, and her framed photographs of empty European hotels. A black town car waited outside in the driveway to transport her from the county holding facility to a private assisted-living residence in upstate New York, funded by what remained of her untainted personal accounts.
Sarah walked down the grand staircase, carrying a stack of fresh white linens for the guest rooms.
"The north suite is cleared out," Sarah said, pausing on the landing. "It feels... lighter up there. Like the walls aren't holding their breath anymore."
"Good," I said, setting Cheryl’s box by the front door. "Let’s keep all the doors open today. Let the breeze move through every corner of this place."
Greg walked in through the front entrance, carrying a stack of architectural blueprints under his arm and a mug of steaming black coffee. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright, filled with the boundless energy of a man who was finally building something that would last.
"The county zoning board approved the renovation plans for the carriage house and the main kitchen," Greg announced, kissing my cheek as he passed. "We can finally knock out that back wall and expand the bakery workspace like you wanted."
"Really?" I smiled, a warm excitement bubbling up in my chest. "No more legal hurdles? No more sudden injunctions?"
"None," Greg laughed, setting his coffee down on the entry table. "The lawyers in New York called this morning. The estate is officially, unequivocally, one hundred percent ours. No trusts, no hidden clauses, no ghosts."
Just then, the front screen door pushed open, and Madison bounced inside, holding a fresh bouquet of wild sunflowers she had picked down by the creek. Her hands were smudged with yellow pollen, and her smile was radiant.
"Mom! Uncle Greg! You have to come see the garden!" Madison shouted. "The new butterfly bushes are blooming, and the bees are everywhere!"
May you like
We followed her outside into the bright, sparkling summer morning.
***
