Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Sign
One year later.
The winter had returned to New York, laying a thick blanket of quiet white snow over the bluffs of Riverdale.
Inside the grand Victorian house, the fire crackled warmly in the brick fireplace of the living room. Deep leather sofas were arranged around a low mahogany coffee table covered with books, toy building blocks, and warm mugs of cocoa.
Chloe sat on the rug near the fire, wearing a soft gray sweater and thick wool socks.
Beside her sat a little six-year-old girl named Maya—a deaf foster child from Queens whose case the Vale-Costello Foundation had taken on three months earlier. Maya was building a tall wooden tower with the blocks, her tongue sticking out slightly in intense concentration.
The front door opened in the entryway hallway, bringing in a swirl of cold river air and the heavy sound of boots being kicked off on the mat.
Gabriel walked into the living room.
He looked broader, stronger, and more relaxed than he had two years ago. The dark, hyper-vigilant paranoia that used to sit on his shoulders like a heavy iron cape was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady confidence.
He dropped his heavy leather bag on the chair, unwrapped his dark scarf, and walked over to the fire.
He didn't speak. He crouched down on the rug beside Chloe, his knee brushing against hers.
Maya looked up from her wooden blocks, her big brown eyes widening as she saw him.
Gabriel lifted his broad hands toward the little girl.
Hello, little one, Gabriel signed with practiced, gentle skill. Did you build a mountain today?
Maya’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. Her tiny fingers moved rapidly: It’s not a mountain! It’s a castle for the dragon!
Gabriel let out a low, warm laugh, his fingers moving instantly to reply: Ah, my mistake. Does the dragon eat seafood risotto?
Maya giggled silently, shaking her head as she went back to her wooden blocks.
Chloe watched him, her heart so full it felt as though it might spill over onto the rug. She reached out and touched his forearm, her thumb pressing against his dark sweater.
“How was the city?” she asked softly.
“Quiet,” Gabriel said, turning his head to look at her. “The new dock managers signed their compliance contracts today without a single argument. Frankie’s board oversaw the entire process.”
“And Marco?”
Gabriel smiled—that clean, beautiful smile that still made her throat go warm. “Marco asked if you were ever coming back to cover a shift at Il Canto. He says the new servers don't know how to handle Table 7.”
“Tell Marco I’m very expensive now,” Chloe murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Gabriel wrapped his broad arm around her waist, pulling her tight against his side as they watched the flames dance in the hearth.
From the doorway of the dining room, Beatrice stepped into the light.
She was wearing her favorite blue wool cardigan, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of tea. She stopped in the doorway, watching her son, the young woman who had saved their family, and the little girl playing on the rug.
She didn't make a sound. She didn't call out.
May you like
She simply raised her small, frail hand into the warm firelight and made one small, silent gesture toward the three of them—a simple, ancient sign that meant blessed.
Then she walked into the room, her small shoes making no sound against the rug, stepping into the warm, unbroken noise of their quiet, beautiful life.
