Chapter 9 - The Coast Road
The white convertible moved smoothly along the curves of the Pacific Coast Highway, the morning sun turning the cliffs of Big Sur into rows of gold and emerald spires above the crashing surf. The wind was sharp, smelling of pine needle resin and salt water, but the heat from the car’s vents kept the cabin warm and comfortable.
Grant sat behind the wheel, his dark hair tossed by the wind, his long arms relaxed as he steered the car through the long sweeps of the coastal asphalt.
Nora sat beside him, wearing a comfortable cashmere sweater and a pair of large dark sunglasses, her hand resting on the center console. On her ring finger, the deep blue sapphire caught the sunlight like an open eye.
"Arthur said the escrow closed on the Monterey estate this morning, Grant," Nora said, turning her head to look at him.
"Good," Grant smiled, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. "The house in La Jolla is too full of old board meetings, Nora. My father built it to impress bankers. I want a place where Lily can run through the trees without hitting a marble staircase."
"Your mother loves the new blueprints," Nora said, her fingers sliding under his hand on the console. "She said the single-story layout means she can wheel herself out to the rose garden without waiting for a nurse."
"She won't be waiting for anyone anymore, Nora," Grant said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against the sapphire. "We’re out of the shipping lanes for the summer. Arthur has the proxy rights for the daily operations. The board knows that if they call my phone before September, they’re dealing with your compliance team first."
"They’re terrified of me, Grant," Nora laughed, her voice light and musical against the hum of the tires. "The director of the Tacoma hub told my assistant that I’m more rigid about the safety ledgers than your father ever was."
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"That’s because my father didn't have a three-year-old child checking the calculations, Nora," Grant said, slowing the car as they reached the long wooden gates of their new northern property—a beautiful, low-slung cedar house that sat on a green ridge above the white caps of the Monterey bay.
As the gates opened automatically to welcome them, Grant looked at the horizon line where the blue water met the blue sky, his heart completely still, completely at peace, knowing that the empire he had built was finally being held up by the people who loved him for the man he was, rather than the throne he sat on.
