Chapter 12
I went to see Sloan one last time.
Frank came with me.
For moral support.
He waited in the car.
I went in alone.
Sloan was brought into the visiting room.
She looked even worse than before.
Older.
Tired.
Broken.
Her eyes were empty.
No fire.
No rage.
Nothing.
She sat down across from me.
"What do you want now?" she said. Her voice was flat. Dead.
"I just wanted to say goodbye," I said. "And to tell you something. My son got married last weekend. To a wonderful woman. Who loves him for who he is. Not for what he has. He's happy. Truly happy. And I'm happy too. I'm married to a wonderful man. I have a big, beautiful family. A foundation that helps people. A book that's touched thousands of lives. Everything you wanted to take from me? I have more of it now than ever before."
She stared at me.
No reaction.
"You didn't win, Sloan," I said. "You never could. Because you don't understand what's really valuable. You thought the house and the money were the prizes. But they weren't. The real prize was love. And family. And happiness. And you'll never have any of those things. You threw away your chance a long time ago. And now you're going to die alone. With nothing. And nobody will care."
I paused.
"But I want you to know something else," I said. "I don't hate you. I feel sorry for you. You could have had a good life. You could have been loved. You could have been happy. But you chose greed. You chose cruelty. And this is what you got. Nothing. I hope someday you understand what you threw away. I hope someday you feel regret. Real regret. Not just for getting caught. But for the people you hurt. For the lives you destroyed. For the person you could have been."
I stood up.
"Goodbye, Sloan. I'll never see you again. And I'll never think of you again. You're nothing to me now. Less than nothing."
I turned and walked away.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't call after me.
She just sat there.
Empty.
Alone.
Forever.
I walked out into the sunlight.
Frank was waiting for me.
He took my hand.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm perfect," I said.
And I meant it.
That chapter of my life was closed.
Forever.
And I was free.
Truly free.
We drove back to the cottage.
We spent the weekend there.
Just the two of us.
Walking on the beach.
Watching the sunset.
Making love.
Talking about the future.
It was perfect.
Peaceful.
Happy.
Whole.
When we got back to the main house, there was a letter waiting for me.
From a young woman.
Twenty-five years old.
She said she'd read my book.
And she'd recognized Sloan.
Or Melissa.
She said Sloan had been her best friend in high school.
And she'd been the one who'd introduced Sloan to her first husband.
An older man.
Rich.
Gullible.
Sloan had destroyed him.
Taken everything.
Left him broke and broken.
He'd killed himself a year later.
The young woman had carried guilt for years.
For introducing them.
For not seeing what Sloan was.
For not warning him.
My book had helped her.
Had given her the courage to come forward.
To tell her story.
To help other people avoid the same fate.
She wanted to get involved with the foundation.
To share her story.
To help others.
I called her immediately.
We talked for hours.
She became one of the foundation's most powerful speakers.
Her story touched thousands of people.
Good continued to come from bad.
Hope continued to grow from pain.
The years passed.
Happy years.
Full years.
I was seventy years old.
Frank and I had been married for five years.
Harrison and Emily had been married for four.
They had a baby boy.
Richard.
Named after his grandfather.
He was the light of our lives.
Chloe was eleven now.
Beautiful.
Smart.
Kind.
She loved to write.
She said she wanted to be an author like me.
The foundation was thriving.
It had offices in three cities.
It helped tens of thousands of people every year.
The book had been translated into fifteen languages.
It had sold millions of copies.
It had been made into a movie.
A good one.
Tasteful.
Honest.
True to the story.
The cottage was our favorite place in the world.
We spent every summer there.
All of us.
The whole family.
The kids ran on the beach.
They swam in the lake.
They built sandcastles.
They laughed.
They loved.
They made memories.
The house was always full.
Always busy.
Always happy.
One evening, as I was sitting on the porch of the cottage, watching the sunset, Frank sat down beside me.
He handed me a letter.
It was from the White House.
I was being awarded the Presidential Citizens Medal.
For my work with the foundation.
For my advocacy.
For my story.
Tears filled my eyes.
"Richard would be so proud," Frank said.
"I know he is," I said.
The ceremony was in Washington.
The whole family came.
The President put the medal around my neck.
He shook my hand.
"Thank you for your service," he said. "Thank you for standing up. For speaking out. For giving hope to so many people."
"Thank you," I said. "I'm just a woman who burned a purse and found her voice."
He smiled.
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
That night, we had a big celebration dinner.
The whole family.
Everyone was there.
Laughing.
Toasting.
Celebrating.
I looked around the table.
At Frank.
At Harrison.
At Emily.
At Chloe.
At baby Richard.
At Marge.
At Brenda.
At Margaret.
At all the people I loved.
All the people who loved me.
And I thought about that day.
Almost six years ago.
Standing in my backyard.
Watching my birthday cake hit the ground.
Watching Sloan smile.
Hearing her say "Oops."
And then walking across the lawn.
Picking up her purse.
Throwing it in the fire.
Saying "Oops."
That one moment.
That one choice.
Had changed everything.
Had led me here.
To this moment.
To this life.
To this love.
I raised my glass.
"To second chances," I said.
"To second chances," everyone echoed.
And we drank.
To love.
To family.
To hope.
To the future.
Which was brighter than ever.
But life had one more gift in store for me.
One that would bring everything full circle.
May you like
And it came in the form of a knock on the door.
On my seventieth birthday.
