Chapter 20 - The Resurrection of Evelyn Lane
It was March again.
One year since I had stepped out of the prison gates.
Two years since the night the world ended.
I stood on the balcony of my new office.
It wasn't in the tower.
I had sold the tower to a development group that focused on low-income housing.
My new office was in an old textile mill in the Seaport.
It was made of brick,
timber,
and history.
The sign on the door didn't say Lane Group.
It said LANE & VANCE ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN.
Julian walked out onto the balcony,
holding two cups of coffee.
“The first project is finished,”
he said,
handing me a cup.
“The community center in Roxbury.”
“The inspectors gave it a perfect score.”
I took a sip of the coffee,
the steam warming my face.
“It’s a good building,”
I said.
“It’ll stand for a hundred years.”
“What about the Davenport project?”
Julian asked.
“We break ground next week,”
I said.
“The right way this time.”
“No shortcuts.”
“No lies.”
Julian leaned against the railing,
looking out at the harbor.
“The trial ends tomorrow,”
he said quietly.
“The sentencing.”
“I’m not going,”
I said.
“I don't need to be there.”
“The story is over,
Julian.”
“I’m busy writing the sequel.”
He turned to me,
his eyes reflecting the gold of the setting sun.
“And how does the sequel start?”
I looked at him,
at the man who had been my rival,
my ally,
and my anchor.
I thought about the sunflowers he had held a year ago.
I thought about the way the wind had felt on my face when the gates opened.
I reached out and took his hand.
“It starts with a breath,”
I said.
“And a plan.”
“And a woman who finally knows the difference between a house and a home.”
The sun dipped below the horizon,
painting the sky in shades of violet and fire.
The city was quiet,
the noise of the traffic a distant hum.
I was Evelyn Lane.
I had been a CEO.
I had been a prisoner.
I had been a ghost.
But now,
as I stood in the heart of the city I had rebuilt,
I realized that I was finally something else.
I was free.
The bat was gone.
The fire was out.
And the future was wide open,
waiting to be designed.
Every line,
every curve,
every stone.
This time,
the foundation was mine.
And this time,
it would never break.
I turned back toward the office,
the light from the windows casting a long,
steady shadow.
“Let’s get back to work,”
I said.
“We have a city to build.”
And as the door closed behind us,
the silence was finally,
May you like
perfectly,
complete.
