Chapter 7 - The Winter Retreat
The weeks that followed the arrest of Vivienne Mercer were the quietest of Mara's life.
The snow fell heavily over Cold Harbor, burying the rocky cliffs in a thick, white blanket that muffled the sound of the ocean. Inside the stone cottage, life slowed to the steady rhythm of preparation.
Naomi had returned to Boston to finish her semester, leaving behind a house stocked with firewood, groceries, and baby supplies. Thomas remained in the small apartment above the garage, his quiet, watchful presence a constant reassurance.
Every morning, Julian and Mara walked along the snowy cliff path, wrapped in heavy coats, their boots leaving twin sets of tracks in the pristine white drifts.
Julian’s face had lost its tight, defensive look. The shadows under his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a healthy, wind-burned color. He spent his afternoons working in the cottage’s small study, organizing the transition of the Carroway papers to the Boston Public Library.
"I want the public reading room to be named after your grandfather, Mara," Julian said one evening as they sat by the fire. "Arthur Sterling was a man who believed that history belonged to the people who lived it, not just the people who could afford to buy it."
Mara looked up from the small wool blanket she was knitting. "He would have liked that, Julian. He used to say that books were like bread—they didn't do any good if they were locked in a vault where no one could eat them."
The phone on the mantelpiece rang, its sharp chime cutting through the quiet room.
Julian walked over and answered it. He listened for a moment, his expression turning serious.
"I see," Julian said. "Thank you, Arthur. Keep me updated."
He hung up the phone and walked back to the fire, sitting on the sofa beside Mara.
"That was Vivienne's attorney," Julian said. "She’s pleading guilty to the federal charges. She’s trying to avoid a public trial."
"Will she go to prison?" Mara asked.
"Yes," Julian said, his voice flat. "The prosecutors are recommending five years at a minimum-security facility in Connecticut. She’s also forfeiting her personal estate in Newport and her jewelry to satisfy the restitution requirements."
He took Mara’s hand, his fingers running over the simple gold band she had worn hidden under her glove for seven months.
"She asked to see me, Mara. One last time before she’s transported."
Mara looked into the fire. The image of Vivienne raising her severed braid above the orchids felt like something from a lifetime ago. The anger was gone, replaced by a quiet, sterile pity.
"Do you want to go?" Mara asked.
"No," Julian said, his voice firm. "I have nothing left to say to her. My family is here, in this room."
May you like
He leaned down, pressing his ear against her belly. "And he’s getting very impatient to meet us."
Mara laughed, her heart filling with a sudden, warm light that made the winter night feel like the beginning of spring.
