Chapter 10 - The Master of Her Own House
Two years later.
The sun streamed through the wide bay windows of my new house—a mid-century modern home tucked into the wooded hills of West Des Moines that David and I had purchased together.
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, baked apples, and brown sugar.
I stood at the island, pulling a freshly baked Dutch apple pie out of the oven. The crust was golden brown, bubbling with sweet apple filling—a recipe I had modified and perfected over two years until it was entirely my own.
David walked into the kitchen, carrying our eight-month-old daughter, Maya, in his arms. Maya giggled, reaching her tiny hands toward the warm pie cooling on the trivet.
"Careful, sweetie," David laughed, kissing her cheek before setting her down in her high chair near the dining table.
David walked over behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Smells incredible, Chairman."
"Director," I corrected with a smile, leaning back against his chest. "Senior Audit Director."
"Right. My mistake." He kissed the side of my neck. "Are you ready for the team to arrive?"
"Everything's set," I said, gesturing toward the long walnut dining table set for eight.
Tonight, my audit team from the hospital was coming over to celebrate our department winning the regional excellence award. There were fresh flowers on the sideboard, bright linen napkins, and laughter already building in the air.
As I set the pie down in the center of the table, I pulled back the head chair—a beautiful, handcrafted walnut armchair with soft leather upholstery.
I sat down in it.
The leather was soft and warm. The light from the chandelier reflected off the polished wood. Outside the window, the sun was setting over the Iowa hills, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold and purple.
My name was on the deed. My name was on the mortgage. But more than that, my life was entirely, undeniably my own.
Nobody was going to pour iced tea in my lap. Nobody was going to kick my purse across the floor. Nobody was going to demand I sign away my future to protect a fragile ego.
May you like
I sat at the head of my table, smiled at my husband and daughter, and welcomed my guests through the front door.
I was finally home.
