Chapter 9 - The Promise KeptBy late afternoon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the Long Island estate.
The girls had finally worn themselves out running through the gardens and were now sitting quietly in the kitchen with Grace, helping her prep dinner while old jazz records played softly on the vintage stereo in the corner.
I stood on the back patio, leaning against the stone balustrade, looking out over the manicured lawns and the distant shoreline where the Atlantic waves crashed rhythmically against the shore.
Isabelle’s portrait still hung in the grand hallway, but the house no longer felt like a museum of ghosts and silence. It felt alive. It felt like a home again.
The back glass door slid open softly, and footsteps approached behind me.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace’s voice carried gently over the evening breeze.
I turned around. She was holding a small glass of bourbon in her hand—knowing just how I liked it after a long week—and holding it out toward me with a quiet, knowing smile.
“Thank you, Grace,” I said, taking the glass from her fingers.
“The girls asked if we could all go to the beach tomorrow,” she said, leaning against the balustrade beside me. “Just a family outing. No guards trailing behind us, no business calls, no meetings.”
May you like
I looked at her, noticing the way the evening light caught the brown strands of her hair, and felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over me.
“Tell them,” I smiled, raising my glass in a quiet toast, “that Daddy’s schedule is completely clear.”
