Chapter 7 - The New Foundation
By New Year’s Eve, the shockwaves through the extended family had settled into an uneasy, grudging acceptance.
Howard, the estate attorney, had formally verified the transfer of the Briarwood estate to Travis as the legal guardian of the trustee. True to his character, Travis didn't throw Lorraine out onto the snow-covered streets without a lifeline. Through Howard, he arranged for a comfortable, fully-furnished three-bedroom townhouse downtown to be leased in Lorraine’s name for a full year, along with a modest monthly living allowance to ensure she wouldn't have to downgrade her lifestyle overnight.
It wasn't the sprawling mansion with pine garlands and crystal chandeliers, but it was more than generous considering how she had treated Zia for seven solid years.
Naturally, Lorraine refused to speak to Travis, viewing his mercy as the ultimate insult. Marcus and his family kept their distance too, embarrassed by their sudden descent from high society into ordinary middle-class comfort.
On the evening of December 31st, our house was filled with a very different kind of celebration.
There were no formal silver napkin rings or printed place cards dictating who was worthy of sitting at the table. Instead, we had ordered three large pepperoni pizzas, spread a thick woolen blanket across the living room floor, and invited Uncle Richard over to join us for board games and countdowns.
Zia was wearing a soft, comfortable blue sweater instead of an uncomfortable, scratchy gold dress. She was sitting between Travis and me, aggressively defending her hotel empire in a game of Monopoly against her great-uncle, who was laughing harder than I had ever heard him laugh in my life.
"If you buy another boardwalk, Richard, I’m going to declare bankruptcy just to spite you," Travis joked, tossing a handful of play money into the center of the board.
"That’s the spirit of free enterprise, nephew!" Richard chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he ruffled Zia’s hair.
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Zia beamed, her laughter ringing out clear and bright, completely unburdened by the nervous hesitation she used to carry like a heavy shield. She reached down beside her, where the small red velvet box rested on the coffee table next to her stuffed rabbit. The brass key was still inside it, secure and untouched.
Travis caught me looking at it, and he reached across the game board to squeeze my hand. His fingers were warm, steady, and completely sure of the path we had chosen.
