Chapter 8 - The Departure from the Cliff
By January, the packing was finished.
The heavy, gothic furniture of the Harbor Mansion had been covered in white canvas sheets, looking like a gathering of silent, dusty ghosts in the grand parlor. The portraits of the Moore ancestors had been taken down and packed into wooden crates, bound for the museum in Savannah that Rebecca’s father had funded.
Mara Bennett stood on the deep, wraparound porch, her green trench coat pulled tight against the cold river wind. She was holding Baby C, now almost two months old, her tiny head tucked into a soft knitted cap.
Arthur stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, his grey eyes looking down at the river where the morning tugs were pulling a large container ship toward the ocean.
"The movers are taking the last of the library books today," Mara said, her voice quiet in the winter air. "Mrs. Gable says she’s going to stay in the city. She’s bought a small cottage near the park."
"She’s earned her peace, Mara," Arthur said. "She spent thirty years cleaning up after this family’s mess. It’s time she had a garden of her own."
"And us?"
"The house on Sullivan's Island is ready," Arthur said, a small, genuine smile softening his scarred temple. "The cribs are set up. The nursery has a view of the lighthouse. And the wind doesn't smell of old money there. It just smells of salt."
He turned back to look at the massive, dark structure of the Harbor Mansion. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy brass key to the front door. He didn't put it in the lock. He set it on the stone banister of the porch, letting the cold wind sweep across its polished surface.
"Let the trust deal with it," Arthur said. "It's just brick and mortar now. The real Moore empire is in that bassinet."
May you like
Mara looked down at the baby’s face, then back to Arthur, her eyes bright with a deep, quiet hope. "Let's go home, Arthur."
They walked down the stone steps together, their boots clicking a steady, peaceful rhythm on the limestone driveway as they left the mansion behind them, its dark windows staring out over the river like the eyes of a giant that had finally gone to sleep.
