A judge’s signature on a few pages had now ended it.
“How do you feel?” Evelyn asked.
I considered my answer.
“Like I can finally breathe.”
She smiled.
“Then I think we should celebrate.”
We dined at a modest downtown Charlotte restaurant.
There were no champagne towers.
No photographers.
No enormous diamond rings.
Just us, enjoying dinner and discussing what came next.
The future no longer frightened me.
I had bought a smaller mountain home near Blowing Rock, North Carolina.
It was no mansion.
It had three bedrooms, a covered
