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Chapter 9 - Arthur Finally Sold the Mansion

Arthur and Maya married when she was thirty-four.

Small ceremony.

Mrs. Gordon attended.

So did several nurses from Maya's hospital.

Arthur placed photographs of Eleanor and Isabelle privately in the family room before the ceremony.

Not as spectacle.

As history.

Maya wore Catherine's earrings.

Years passed.

Maya became a pediatric oncology nurse.

Then nurse practitioner.

Arthur stepped back from Penhaligon Industries.

They never had biological children.

That hurt Maya for a while.

Arthur understood grief without trying to solve it.

Then, when Maya was thirty-nine, they became foster parents.

The first child stayed six weeks.

The second four months.

The third, a nine-year-old girl named Sophie, stayed forever.

They adopted her two years later.

Arthur was terrified of fatherhood.

The first night Sophie had a fever, he checked her temperature nine times.

Maya took the thermometer away.

“Arthur.”

“What?”

“You're becoming Victor Penhaligon.”

“That isn't a person.”

“Exactly. You're inventing controlling relatives now.”

He laughed.

Then stopped checking.

When Sophie turned thirteen, she slammed a door during an argument.

Arthur froze.

Old Arthur would have seen disrespect.

New Arthur knocked.

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

He stood outside.

“All right.”

Twenty minutes later:

“Now?”

Silence.

Then:

“Fine.”

He entered.

That was fatherhood.

Not opening every door because you owned the house.

Waiting until invited.

Eventually, the Penhaligon mansion became too large.

Arthur sold it.

People were shocked.

The room that had once belonged to Isabelle had remained open for decades.

Before leaving, Arthur stood inside one last time.

Sophie joined him.

“Was this her room?”

“Yes.”

“You miss her?”

“Every day.”

“Even though you have me?”

Arthur turned.

“Those aren't opposites.”

Sophie nodded.

Maya heard from the doorway.

She smiled.

The man who once believed loving again betrayed the dead had finally learned the heart wasn't a room with one occupant.

May you like

It was a house.

Doors could remain open.

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