We stood up from the chairs, holding Eleanor, Garrett, Thomas, and Uncle David’s hands toward the limitless blue sky as the distant chimes of the valley chapel began to strike twelve times across the peaceful water:
“…nobody ever, ever… audits an auditor again.”
Barnaby let out a soft, contented sigh on the porch rug, his tail thumping once against the cedar boards: *thump.*
Garrett laughed into the warm sunlight.
Little Eleanor clapped her hands, giggling at the soaring eagles.
The white passenger ferries glided across the blue water.
The eagles climbed into the limitless blue sky.
The water ran deep and clear.
The ledger was closed forever.
And the wife whose husband had bought her a trip to Paris twenty minutes before toasting with his family as they divided her house and savings had turned back in the morning mist, recorded their treason from the cold marble floor, answered their deceit with the full sovereign authority of the United States Armed Forces, shattered the shadow conspiracy, sent the dynasty to Leavenworth in chains, and reclaimed her rightful husband along with the defense bedrock of the Republic—finally, beautifully, and eternally free.
