Chapter 7 - THE VERMONT TRANSITION
Six months later.
Spring had come late to the Green Mountains of Vermont, melting the deep winter snow into crystal-clear streams that rushed down the granite valleys toward Lake Champlain.
Mara stood on the wide timber porch of a massive, stone-and-cedar home sitting on a high ridge overlooking four hundred acres of dense pine forest. She wore a comfortable, soft cream wool sweater, dark jeans, and leather boots. Her hair fell in natural, healthy waves across her shoulders, her skin glowing with health and sun.
On her left hand, the platinum signet ring with the black diamond gleamed brightly in the clear mountain light.
A silver Volvo station wagon pulled up the long gravel driveway, kicking up a light cloud of dust.
The door opened, and Toby Merritt stepped out.
He was twenty-eight, lean, with Mara’s bright brown eyes and a healthy color in his cheeks that hadn't been there in five years. His chronic kidney condition—once a fatal financial death sentence for their family—had been completely stabilized following a successful transplant organized by the top specialists in Boston, paid for in full by the Vance Medical Trust.
“Mara!” Toby yelled, running up the wide wooden steps and throwing his arms around her in a hard, ribs-cracking hug.
Mara held her brother tight, tears of pure relief pricking her eyes as she smelled the fresh mountain air on his coat. “Look at you,” she whispered, pulling back to look at his face. “You have color. You look healthy.”
“I feel like a human being again,” Toby said, smiling broadly. He looked around at the breathtaking mountain view, the vast timber house, and the two discreet security sentries standing near the tree line in dark jackets. “This place is unbelievable, Mara. I still think I’m going to wake up in my shitty basement apartment in Denver.”
“You’re not dreaming, kiddo,” Mara said, hooking her arm through his. “Come inside. Blythe has been waiting for you all morning.”
Inside, the house was a masterclass in modern architectural warmth. Soaring cathedral ceilings with exposed timber beams, massive stone fireplaces, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls that brought the green forest right into the living room.
Blythe came running down the wide oak staircase, wearing a bright yellow sundress and canvas sneakers.
“Toby!” the girl squealed.
She didn't look like the terrified, silent child who had stood barefoot in the Lakeview Mercy ER six months ago. Her cheeks were round, her dark eyes filled with bright, childhood energy, her hair tied in two messy braids.
She threw herself at Toby, who caught her effortlessly, spinning her around in a circle while she laughed—a loud, clear, beautiful sound that echoed through the high ceilings.
Julian stepped out of his ground-floor office at the end of the hallway.
He wore a dark blue linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark trousers, and leather boots. The cold, lethal edge that had defined him in Chicago was still there—a permanent part of his posture—but it was softened now, tempered by a quiet, profound contentment.
He walked down the hall, extending a hand to Toby. “Welcome to Vermont, Toby.”
Toby shook Julian’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Vance. For everything. For my life.”
“Call me Julian,” the older man said smoothly. “We are family now. And family does not thank each other for basic necessities.”
He looked at Mara, his dark eyes softening instantly into that warm, possessive gaze reserved only for her. He walked to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. Mara leaned her head back against his shoulder, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her back.
“Dr. Evans called from Boston,” Julian murmured in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. “The pediatric metabolic research unit you funded has officially opened its trial phase today.”
Mara smiled, turning her head to look at him. “And the clinic down in the valley?”
“Fully staffed, fully stocked, and open to the public on Monday,” Julian said. “You are officially the Chief Medical Administrator of the highest-funded rural health clinic in the state of New England.”
Mara reached up, touching his jaw. “No night shifts?”
“No night shifts,” Julian promised, kissing her lips softly. “Unless I am involved.”
Toby cleared his throat loudly, making Blythe giggle. “Okay, okay, I’m standing right here, guys!”
Julian smiled—a real, open smile—without releasing Mara from his arm. “Come out to the terrace. Mrs. Vance has prepared lunch, and the weather is too fair to waste inside.”
They walked out onto the stone patio overlooking the private lake.
The water was crystal clear, reflecting the bright blue sky and the surrounding green ridges like a giant, liquid mirror. A small wooden dock extended thirty feet into the water, where a brand-new canoe sat tied to a cedar post.
Blythe ran down the lawn toward the dock, with Toby close behind her, pointing out a family of ducks swimming along the reedy shoreline.
Mara stood by the stone railing, holding her glass of iced tea, feeling the warm spring wind blow through her hair.
Julian came up behind her, wrapping his long arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her shoulder as they watched the children play by the water.
“Are you happy, Miss Merritt?” Julian asked quietly.
Mara looked at the green mountains, the clear blue lake, her healthy brother laughing in the sun, and the child who had saved her life as much as Mara had saved hers. She looked down at her finger, where the black diamond ring caught the gold light of the Vermont sun.
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“I'm not Miss Merritt anymore, Mr. Vance,” Mara whispered, turning in his arms to wrap her hands around his neck.
“No,” Julian murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed hers. “You are Mrs. Vance. And you are precisely where you belong.”
