Chapter 5 - Where the Fortune Goes
One year later.
The summer sun was high over Sullivan’s Island, casting a brilliant, blinding glare across the white sand and the gentle, rolling surf of the Atlantic Ocean.
A mile down the beach, where the dunes gave way to a quiet tidal creek bordered by sea oats and palmetto trees, a small wood-frame cottage sat tucked behind the sea wall. It was painted a soft slate blue with white trim, its porch wrapped in brass screening to catch the evening sea breeze.
On the front steps sat Lily Bennett.
She was five now, taller, her pigtails replaced by a neat shoulder-length bob tied with a yellow ribbon. She wore dark blue shorts, a white t-shirt, and shiny red sandals that she tapped rhythmically against the wooden steps.
In her lap sat a wooden box with a brass latch.
Inside the cottage, the soft hum of an air conditioner mixed with the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen.
Claire Bennett stood at the island counter, reviewing a stack of green folders. She wore linen trousers and a simple white silk blouse, her dark hair cut in a stylish, professional style. On the counter lay twelve check vouchers, each stamped with the seal of the Abigail Reed Community Support Fund.
One was for a widow in West Ashley whose roof had been damaged in a spring storm. Another was for a young father in Mount Pleasant who needed specialized leg braces for his twin daughters. A third was for a daycare center in East Cooper that had been facing foreclosure.
There were no press releases attached to the folders. No news crews were scheduled to arrive. The money was delivered quietly, directly into bank accounts, accompanied only by a short, handwritten note: From the estate of Abigail Reed. May this bring you peace.
The back screen door opened, and Nathan Reed walked out onto the porch.
He looked ten years younger than he had on that dark afternoon in the sunroom. His white hair was neatly trimmed, his skin tanned by long afternoons spent working in the gardens, and he wore a comfortable linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He carried two glasses of iced tea, handing one to Claire as he leaned against the counter.
“How do the quarterly distributions look?” he asked.
“We’ve assisted forty-two families this month, Nathan,” Claire said, looking at him with a warm, steady smile. “And the new after-school literacy center in North Charleston opens its doors on Monday.”
Nathan smiled, taking a sip of his tea. “Good. That’s very good.”
He set his glass down and walked through the screen door onto the front steps, taking a seat beside Lily on the warm wood.
“What are you sorting today, Miss Bennett?” he asked gently.
Lily opened the brass latch of the wooden box and lifted the lid.
Inside lay dozens of pieces of sea glass—green, brown, white, amber, and three rare pieces of pale pink—all polished smooth by the ocean.
“I’m putting them in order,” Lily explained, pointing to a row she had arranged along the step. “From the darkest ones to the brightest ones.”
Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box. He opened it and held it out to her.
Inside sat a small silver wind chime he had built himself in his workshop behind the estate. Hanging from the delicate silver chains were seven pieces of sea glass, catching the bright sea light and throwing soft blue, green, and amber reflections across the porch floor.
At the very center, hanging lowest from the main thread, was the button-sized piece of cobalt-blue glass Lily had pulled from the baseboard in the sunroom a year ago.
Lily gasped softly, her hazel eyes lighting up with delight.
“You put it on a new thing,” she whispered.
“I did,” Nathan said, holding the chime up so the sea breeze caught the small glass panels. They struck each other with a soft, clear, musical chime that sounded like clear water falling over smooth stones. “The mobile in the sunroom was for Abigail’s memory. But this one... this one is for the future.”
Lily reached out her small hand and touched the blue glass gently, watching it swing in the light.
“Does it sound like love?” she asked, looking up into his face.
Nathan looked down at the child who had found him crying behind a half-open door—the child whose simple, unvarnished truth had saved him from his own darkness, and whose mother was now using his fortune to heal hundreds of forgotten lives across the city.
May you like
He listened to the soft, ringing notes of the sea glass singing in the wind, felt the warm sun on his face, and for the first time in many years, his heart felt completely full.
“Yes, Lily,” Nathan whispered, kissing the top of her head as the wind carried the music out toward the ocean. “That is exactly what it sounds like.”
