Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Horizon
One year later, the spring sun broke over Long Island Sound in a magnificent, blinding wash of liquid gold.
The lawn behind the Greenwich estate was no longer just a backdrop for polite society parties. It was a playground. A bright pink plastic slide sat near the hydrangeas, and a sandbox occupied the space where Grant’s manicured boxwood hedges used to be.
I sat on a wooden Adirondack chair, wearing a simple linen sundress, watching one-year-old Thomasin chase a golden retriever across the grass on unsteady, triumphant legs.
My phone sat on the small table beside my iced coffee. It didn't buzz. It didn't flash with frantic texts or emergency corporate updates. The screen was completely dark, save for the digital clock displaying 3:14 PM.
Aunt Helen walked out the French doors carrying a tray of lemonade. She handed me a glass and sat down on the matching chair beside me.
"Did you hear about Grant?" she asked quietly, her eyes following Thomasin as the toddler fell gently onto the grass and burst into giggles instead of tears.
I took a slow sip of the lemonade, letting the cold citrus settle on my tongue. "What about him?"
"He’s moved to Florida," Aunt Helen said. "Working as a mid-level consultant for some regional shipping firm down in Tampa. Lost the Greenwich house entirely. Apparently, he's engaged to a woman who works in real estate."
I looked out across the lawn, watching the wind rustle the leaves of the ancient maples my father had planted decades ago.
"I hope she likes midnight-blue dresses," I said.
Aunt Helen choked out a sudden, delighted laugh, spraying a little lemonade onto her blouse. She reached across the small table and squeezed my hand.
I looked down at my left hand. The skin was bare. The diamond wedding ring was long gone, melted down and recast into a small, delicate pendant that I now wore around my neck—a tiny golden key resting right over my heart.
May you like
Thomasin squeaked, holding up a dandelion she had plucked from the lawn, running toward me with all the speed her little legs could muster.
I scooped her up into my arms, burying my face in her curls, breathing in the scent of sunshine and baby shampoo. The perimeter was safe. The house was mine. And the horizon stretching out across the sparkling water was entirely, beautifully unwritten.
