Across the room, setting a massive, steaming porcelain bowl of cornbread dressing in the center of the table, was **Eleanor**.
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She wore an elegant emerald-green silk dress that brushed her calves, her grandmother’s silver locket resting warm against her collarbone, her hair swept up in an antique tortoiseshell comb.
Her walk was graceful, unhurried, carrying that profound, magnificent serenity of a woman who had walked through the valley of the shadow of death and claimed her throne in the light.
On her left hand, catching the warm firelight in a brilliant, unblemished flash of pure platinum, was a simple, unadorned band—the legal adoption seal that had officially registered Chloe as **Chloe Miller Vance** in the probate archives of Lancaster County three months ago, naming Arthur as her permanent, unchallengeable legal grandfather and co-trustee of the family estate.
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The grandfather clock in the corner chimed seven times, its bronze bells pealing with a deep, musical resonance through the house.
