Chapter 10 - The Quiet House in Greenwich
It was nearly seven o'clock by the time my Uber dropped me off at the wrought-iron gates of my home in Greenwich, Connecticut.
The house stood tall and proud against the twilight sky, its warm amber porch lights glowing softly through the manicured hedges. There were no gray SUVs parked down the street. No co-conspirators lurking in the driveway. Just the quiet, dignified silence of a home that had belonged to my grandmother, and now belonged entirely to me once more.
I walked up the stone pathway, my footsteps light and unburdened. As I reached the front porch, I noticed Evelyn sitting on her familiar wicker rocking chair across the street, watching me with a knowing, approving smile. She raised a steaming mug of tea in silent salute.
May you like
I smiled back, raised my hand in acknowledgment, and slid my spare key into the front door lock.
The heavy oak door swung open smoothly, revealing the grand foyer where my life had been upended just twelve hours earlier. The air inside smelled of beeswax and old wood—clean, untainted, and entirely mine. I stepped across the threshold, kicked off my heels, and locked the door behind me with a firm, satisfying click.
