Chapter 9: Auditing the Past
While federal prosecutors dismantled Eleanor’s life piece by piece, the forty-second-floor penthouse of the Halcyon Hotel played host to a far more intimate and healing reclamation of time.
Leah stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the sparkling lights of Seattle while holding a warm cup of herbal tea.
Julian walked over, placing a velvet jewelry box on the coffee table beside her.
“What’s this?” Leah asked, turning around.
“Open it,” Julian smiled gently.
Leah lifted the hinged lid. Inside rested a delicate, platinum-and-emerald necklace featuring the exact same three-leaf motif as the pale-green brooch her mother had worn, alongside a signed legal deed transferring ownership of the historic downtown building where Leah’s flower shop was originally housed—lock, stock, and barrel, free and clear of all encumbrances.
“I don't need a flower shop anymore, Dad,” Leah murmured, using the word for only the second time in her life. It felt surprisingly natural on her tongue.
“You keep the flower shop because you love it,” Julian insisted softly. “You just won't ever have to worry about the rent again. And as for the necklace... your mother wore that the night we first met in San Francisco. I kept it in my safety deposit box for twenty-six years, waiting for someone worthy to wear it.”
Leah reached down, picked up the delicate platinum chain, and clasped it around her neck. The cool metal settled against her collarbone right above her vintage silver locket.
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“Mom would have loved this,” Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “She never stopped missing you, you know. Even when she was angry, even when she told me men were made of glass... she never threw your letters away. I found them in a hidden floorboard compartment yesterday morning.”
Julian closed his eyes, a profound peace washing over his features. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, sweetheart. But we have the rest of our lives to do it.”
