Chapter 18 - The Morning AfterChristmas morning arrived quietly.
For the first time in several days, nobody shouted.
Nobody disappeared.
Nobody sent threatening messages.
Oliver woke at five thirty.
Lucy woke at five thirty-two.
By five thirty-five, both children were jumping on Elena’s bed.
“Santa came!”
Oliver shouted.
Elena opened one eye.
“How do you know?”
“We heard bells.”
Lucy nodded.
“Maybe.”
Elena looked toward the doorway.
Adrian stood there holding two mugs of coffee.
A small silver bell disappeared suspiciously into his coat pocket.
Elena stared.
“You.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
Oliver ran toward him.
“Dad, come on!”
Adrian looked at Elena.
“Permission?”
The fact that he still asked mattered.
She smiled.
“Go.”
The children dragged him toward the Christmas tree.
Elena followed more slowly.
Presents had appeared overnight.
Not hundreds.
Adrian had listened when Elena told him not to overwhelm them.
Oliver received a wooden train set.
Lucy received art supplies and a tiny bed for Benny.
Both received books.
Adrian had also placed two wrapped packages beneath the tree labeled FROM AUNT AVA.
Elena saw them.
Her chest tightened.
“What are those?”
Adrian spoke quietly.
“I found some of Ava’s things in storage.”
“I thought they should have something from her.”
Oliver opened his box.
Inside was a small snow globe Ava had owned as a child.
Lucy’s contained a music box.
Elena looked at Adrian.
“That was thoughtful.”
“I had help.”
Vivian stood in the doorway.
Elena stiffened slightly.
Vivian carried no gifts.
She seemed to understand that presents would look like an attempt to buy affection.
“Merry Christmas.”
Oliver waved.
“Hi, Vivian.”
Lucy pointed toward the music box.
“Look.”
Vivian came closer.
“I remember that.”
“Was it Ava’s?”
“Yes.”
“Did she like music?”
“She loved loud music.”
Adrian laughed.
“Especially when everyone else wanted quiet.”
Vivian smiled.
For several minutes, grief existed without conflict.
Julian did not join them.
He had left before sunrise to meet federal investigators and independent trust counsel.
Mara believed he would face civil consequences.
Possibly criminal ones.
Daniel would too.
Neither expected immunity from everything.
Adrian had not asked for it.
Truth did not erase accountability.
At nine, Mara arrived.
She looked exhausted.
“Victoria’s counsel formally withdrew the restoration petition.”
Vivian exhaled.
“Where is she?”
“Unknown.”
Adrian frowned.
“Still?”
“She left the state overnight.”
Elena’s anxiety returned.
Mara raised a hand.
“Federal authorities are involved now.”
“She can’t move money easily.”
“Her passport has been flagged.”
“Let law enforcement do their job.”
Adrian nodded.
For once, he accepted that he could not personally control everything.
Mara continued.
“The board wants you back immediately.”
“No.”
Vivian looked surprised.
Adrian poured coffee.
“I said temporary leave.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m still on leave.”
Mara smiled.
“I told them you’d say that.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked toward the twins.
“At least until I learn whether four-year-olds always wake up before sunrise.”
Elena laughed.
“They do.”
“Then possibly retirement.”
Oliver shouted from the floor.
“Dad!”
“Yes?”
“What’s retirement?”
Adrian considered.
“Sleeping later.”
Oliver looked horrified.
“No.”
Elena laughed harder.
Later that afternoon, snow began falling.
The children built a crooked snowman with Adrian.
Lucy insisted Benny needed to supervise from the porch.
Oliver threw a snowball directly into Adrian’s chest.
Adrian retaliated gently.
Within minutes, Elena was pulled into the battle.
Vivian watched from a window.
She did not join.
Not yet.
Elena noticed.
She approached her later.
“You can go outside.”
Vivian looked surprised.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“You are intruding by standing here looking tragic.”
Vivian almost smiled.
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s permission to stop staring through windows.”
Vivian put on a coat.
She stepped outside.
Lucy immediately handed her a carrot.
“Hold this.”
Vivian obeyed.
It was not forgiveness.
It was not reconciliation.
But it was a beginning.
That evening, Adrian found Elena in the library.
She was examining an old photograph of him and Ava.
“You look seventeen.”
“I was eighteen.”
“You had terrible hair.”
“It was fashionable.”
“No.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“What happens now?”
Elena replaced the photograph.
“We go home.”
Adrian’s expression shifted.
“To Chicago?”
“Yes.”
The twins had lived there for three years.
Their preschool was there.
Their friends were there.
Elena expected him to argue.
He did not.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
She looked at him.
“That’s it?”
“What did you expect?”
“You telling me Chicago is impractical.”
“It is.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Adrian smiled.
“But it’s your home.”
“Their home.”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“I’d like to be part of it.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I can get an apartment nearby.”
“Fly in.”
“Move part of my work.”
“Whatever makes sense.”
“You’d move?”
“For them.”
Elena looked away.
“And us?”
Adrian was quiet.
“I want there to be an us.”
Her heart beat faster.
“But I’m not asking you for that now.”
She looked back.
“Why not?”
“Because you spent four years believing I rejected you.”
“That doesn’t disappear in four days.”
Elena felt tears sting unexpectedly.
Adrian continued.
“I want to know my kids.”
“I want them to know me.”
“And if you eventually trust me again…”
He paused.
“I’ll still be here.”
She smiled faintly.
“That sounds unusually patient for you.”
“I’m experimenting.”
“Dangerous.”
“Apparently fatherhood is changing me.”
A knock came from the library door.
Oliver stood there.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Lucy says Benny is missing.”
Elena frowned.
“He was on the couch.”
They searched.
No bear.
The children became increasingly worried.
Then Adrian noticed the front door was slightly open.
His smile vanished.
Security confirmed nobody had intentionally opened it.
Adrian stepped outside.
Benny lay in the snow.
Twenty feet from the house.
Elena rushed forward.
“Why is he out here?”
Adrian picked up the bear.
Something was pinned to its chest.
A white card.
May you like
Three words had been written on it.
THIS ISN’T OVER.
