Chapter 7 - The Invitation to a Real Celebration
Later that afternoon, after Arthur and Sarah had departed, leaving behind the official documents that legally severed every remaining financial tie to Julian, Evelyn and Noah sat out on the back patio.
The autumn wind rustled the golden leaves of the oak trees. The backyard was quiet, save for the distant sound of birds and the soft clink of ice in lemonade glasses.
Noah was lying back on a lounge chair, staring up at the blue Texas sky, his hands folded behind his head.
"Mom?" Noah asked softly.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Are we ever going to look at another wedding invitation again?"
Evelyn laughed out loud, setting her glass down on the patio table. She walked over, sat on the edge of his lounge chair, and gently flicked his forehead.
"Only if the invitation is for a barbecue, and the only dress code is comfortable shoes," Evelyn smiled.
Noah grinned, sitting up and looking around their new backyard. "I like this house. It doesn't have any ghosts in it."
"No ghosts," Evelyn agreed, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. "Just us."
The mail carrier’s truck rattled down the suburban street outside, stopping briefly at their mailbox before moving on.
Noah hopped off the chair. "I'll get the mail."
He trotted down the front walkway and pulled open the metal mailbox. True to his word, there were no gold-embossed envelopes, no threatening legal notices, no bitter demands. Just a couple of utility bills, a flyer for a local bookstore, and a handwritten postcard from Aunt Clara up in Oregon, inviting them up for Thanksgiving.
Noah walked back up the path, holding the postcard out to Evelyn with a bright, untroubled smile.
"Aunt Clara says we can bring our own pie," Noah announced.
May you like
Evelyn took the postcard, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a decade. The nightmare of the country club ballroom, the blood on the menu board from an entirely different lifetime of echoes, the slick lies of a man who thought he was a king—all of it was gone, blown away by the wind like dust.
"Tell her," Evelyn said, taking her son’s hand as they walked back inside together, "we're bringing two pies, and we're staying as long as we want."
