“To truth,” she said, lifting her glass.
“To consequences,” I answered.
She smiled. “Your father would be insufferably pleased.”
I looked out at the harbor where masts swayed against the blue. “I know.”
“What will you do with the house money?”
The question would once have made me flinch. Now it felt practical, almost hopeful.
“I’m setting up a scholarship in Dad’s name,” I said. “For young women going into law.”
Helen’s smile changed. Softer. Real.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “That’s exactly right.”
The breeze smelled like lemon and salt and grilled fish. Down at the marina, the rigging on a dozen sailboats chimed together in the wind.
And for the first time since the funeral, when I pictured the future, I didn’t see wreckage first.
I saw open water.
Then my phone lit up with a message from Daniel at the harbor.
Wind looks perfect at sunset. If you’re taking Integrity out, I’ll be on the next dock if you want company.I stared at the screen for a second, surprised by the small lift in my chest.
Not rescue. Not fate. Just the quiet possibility of being seen without being used.
I slipped my phone back into my bag and smiled into my martini.
Because my life was no longer about what had been taken.