Chapter 7 - The New Chapter
Six months after the federal convictions of Julian Vance, David Mercer, and Sarah Jenkins, the financial dust settled into a permanent, secure peace.
The primary estate trust had been fully restructured under the direct oversight of a new, highly ethical fiduciary firm recommended by the federal court. The commercial real estate holdings were yielding steady dividends that were funneled directly into Leo’s college fund, ensuring his future was bulletproof.
I had also returned to work part-time as a senior structural engineer for a municipal infrastructure firm in downtown Portland, balancing my projects with my primary responsibility as a single father.
On a bright, clear Saturday in July, Leo and I decided to take a road trip out to the coast. It was a tradition Clara and I had started before Leo was born—driving out to Cannon Beach, walking along the wet sand, and watching the jagged sea stacks rise like ancient stone giants out of the crashing Pacific surf.
We parked the car, kicked off our shoes, and ran barefoot across the cool, damp sand as the afternoon tide rolled in.
Buster bounded ahead of us, splashing through the foamy salt water, barking happily at the circling gulls.
Leo stopped, bending down to pick up a smooth, polished piece of sea glass that gleamed a brilliant emerald green in the sunlight. He held it up to his eye, looking out toward the horizon where the blue sky met the ocean in an endless, seamless line.
"Dad!" he shouted over the roar of the surf.
"Yeah, buddy?" I called back, jogging up beside him.
"Do you think Mom can see us from up there?"
I stopped, looking out at the vast, beautiful expanse of the ocean. The wind whipped my hair across my forehead, and the salty air filled my lungs with a deep, cleansing vitality.
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"I know she can, Leo," I said softly, resting my hand on his small shoulder. "I think she’s looking down right now, smiling because she knows we're finally going to be okay."
Leo smiled, pocketed the green sea glass, and grabbed my hand tightly. Without another word, we turned and ran back toward the crashing waves, leaving our footprints deep in the wet sand behind us—footprints that were steady, clear, and pointing straight into the light.
