He Gave Her My Home So I Took Back My Life Chapter 28
A year later, Legacy Weekend was held at Hale Manor again.
The name remained.
But it no longer belonged to the Ashford family.
The estate was opened to the public to display the restoration archives of Savannah’s historic homes. In the ballroom once filled with champagne glasses and white roses, students’ measured drawings were displayed instead. The chair where Vivian had once played hostess was gone, replaced by a project information panel.
No one was pretending to be the lady of the house.
Because the owner of the house stood on the front steps herself, introducing the next year’s restoration plans to everyone present.
When I finished speaking, applause carried from the garden all the way into the hall.
Alma came over and hugged me.
“No one got sent off to a hotel this year, I hope?”
I laughed.
“There are plenty of guest rooms. And everyone has their own key.”
She laughed, too.
After the crowd dispersed, I went into the study alone.
The safe had been reset with a new code.
My mother’s jewelry box sat inside, quiet and undisturbed. I took out the pearl necklace and fastened it before the mirror. The crack in the camellia clasp was still there. The two paler pearls had not been dyed to match.
It was no longer proof of a marriage.
It was simply something my mother had left me.
There was a light knock at the door.
“May I come in?” Mateo asked.
“Yes.”
He opened the door and came in. He held no ring, no flowers.
Only two documents.
“The public education program for Hale Manor was approved,” he said. “And this is the investor exit arrangement you asked for. When the five-year term is up, the Ruiz Foundation will step down from the management committee, as agreed.”
I took the papers.
It meant that no matter what happened between us, the Hale Foundation would remain fully mine.
“You’re not afraid I might not want you anymore someday?”
Mateo looked at me.
“I am.”
“And you signed anyway?”
“Because keeping you with me and trapping you are not the same thing.”
Outside the window, the last visitors were crossing the garden. The late sun lay warm over the blooming camellias.
I set the papers down and held out my hand to him.
Years ago, outside a dormitory, I had held out my hand to a boy standing alone in his embarrassment.
Now, he didn’t take it immediately.
“Nora, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
At last, his hand settled into mine.
“Going home?” he asked.
I glanced back at the grand estate behind me.
This was the place where someone had once ordered me to leave, again and again.
Where someone else had worn my mother’s heirloom, stood in my place, and told me I ought to be understanding.
Now the locks, the collection, and every document were back in my hands.
But I knew he wasn’t asking about the house.
I tightened my hand around his.
“Let’s go home.”
This time, home wasn’t a place someone else had granted me.
The key was in my hand. My name was over the door.
And the life ahead of me belonged to no one but myself.
The End