Chapter 7 - The Master Suite Restored
By December, the first light snow of the winter began to fall over Park Avenue, dusting the high-rise terraces in a soft, quiet blanket of pure white.
Unit 18B did not look like the apartment I had walked into three months ago.
The heavy, dark velvet curtains and ostentatious decor that Olivia had insisted on buying with my money were completely gone. In their place were bright, warm Scandinavian hardwood floors, cream-colored wool rugs, high sunlit glass walls, and warm yellow reading lamps that filled every corner with a cozy, welcoming light.
In the dining room, where a mountain of cold seafood and expensive wine had once stood as a monument to greed, there sat a simple, beautiful oval table made of natural light oak.
On this Saturday afternoon, the dining table was covered in bright red construction paper, glitter, child-safe glue, and small wooden ornaments.
Emma was sitting on a high wooden chair, wearing a warm yellow fleece sweater, her cheeks rosy, her bright brown eyes focused intensely as she carefully glued a silver star onto a wooden Christmas tree ornament.
"Look, Mommy!" Emma squealed, holding up the wooden star with two sticky, proud little hands. "It’s for the big tree!"
I stepped out of the kitchen holding two mugs of hot cocoa topped with extra mini-marshmallows, setting one down on a cork coaster beside her work station.
"That is the most beautiful star I’ve ever seen, sweetie," I smiled, dropping to my knees beside her chair and pressing a warm kiss against her soft, warm cheek.
Emma giggled, rubbing her cheek against my shoulder. She was three pounds heavier than she had been in September. Her skin was glowing, her laugh was constant, and she no longer looked at doors with that quiet, watchful fear that had broken my heart on the balcony.
Her nanny, a wonderful retired pediatric nurse named Martha who lived two floors below us, was sitting in the living room armchairs, knitting a small woolen hat while watching the snow fall over the city skyline.
My phone rang from the kitchen counter.
I walked over and picked it up. It was Arthur Vance.
"Sarah," Arthur said warmly. "Happy Saturday."
"Happy Saturday, Arthur. Is everything clear?"
"Final decree paperwork was registered with the county clerk an hour ago," Arthur reported. "Daniel Miller signed the formal surrender of all parental rights without condition. Your sole legal, physical, and financial guardianship over Emma is absolute and unassailable. You are officially, completely free."
I stood near the large floor-to-ceiling glass window of my kitchen, looking out over the city as the snow floated down through the quiet afternoon air.
"Thank you, Arthur," I whispered, my voice thick with a quiet, profound emotion. "For everything."
"You did the work, Sarah," Arthur said gently. "You saved your daughter. Have a wonderful Christmas."
I hung up the phone and set it down on the counter.
I walked back into the bright, warm dining room, sitting down on the chair beside Emma, picking up a paintbrush, and dipping it into a small jar of gold glitter paint.
"Mommy?" Emma asked, looking up from her wooden star with wide, curious eyes.
"Yes, my love?"
"Can we make a star for Martha too?"
May you like
I smiled, pulling her small, warm body into my lap, holding her tight against my chest as the warmth of our home wrapped around us like a soft velvet blanket.
"We can make as many stars as you want, Emma," I whispered into her dark, silky hair. "We have all the time in the world."
