Chapter 24 - Susan’s Choice
Susan received no immunity.
That mattered to me.
She had helped Richard humiliate Grandma.
She had entered Maple Street measuring rooms before the funeral soil was dry.
She had repeated his lies.
Fear explained some things.
It did not erase them.
Prosecutors charged her with lesser financial offenses connected to false property filings.
She pleaded guilty.
No excuses.
At sentencing, she stood before the judge.
“I participated because I liked the life Richard gave me.”
Her voice was steady.
“I told myself I believed him because that made it easier than admitting I benefited from not asking questions.”
I looked at her.
That was the first fully honest thing I had ever heard Susan say.
“I was also afraid of him.”
She swallowed.
“Both things can be true.”
The judge agreed.
Susan received probation, restitution obligations, community service, and mandatory cooperation.
Outside court she approached me.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
“I am sorry.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to spend a long time proving that.”
“Not to me.”
She looked confused.
I continued.
“Prove it to Tyler.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m trying.”
Tyler had enrolled in community college.
Business ethics.
The irony made him groan.
“It was the only class that fit my schedule.”
He also started working part time at the rebuilt shelter project.
Not because I hired him.
Because the contractor did.
He hauled drywall.
Swept floors.
Made twelve dollars an hour.
One afternoon I visited and found him covered in dust.
“You know you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
He looked around.
“Because Dad taught me money means you’re important.”
He lifted a sheet of drywall with another worker.
“I want to find out what work means.”
I smiled.
Grandma would have liked that answer.
Then the Northstar civil case resolved.
The corporation agreed to pay a massive settlement to avoid years of litigation.
More importantly, it permanently abandoned claims against the river corridor.
Samuel Kerr and I placed most of the undeveloped land into a conservation trust.
The remaining section would become something else.
Affordable housing.
A riverfront park.
Small-business space.
No luxury freight terminal.
No monument to Richard’s greed.
When I signed the documents, Samuel slid Grandpa’s old fountain pen toward me.
“He signed the original partnership with this.”
I used it.
Afterward, Eleanor asked if I regretted not selling for ninety million dollars.
“No.”
“You barely hesitated.”
“I already have more money than I know what to do with.”
She smiled.
“That sentence would kill half my clients.”
“Then don’t tell them.”
Grandma’s bungalow remained unchanged except for repairs.
I restored the heating.
Fixed the roof.
Removed the broken gutters.
But I kept the floral wallpaper Susan once called dreadful.
Especially that.
One Saturday morning, I planted flowers.
Exactly like Grandma asked.
Hydrangeas.
Daisies.
Yellow roses.
Tyler helped.
Susan came too.
We worked mostly in silence.
At noon, a black sedan stopped at the curb.
For one terrible second, my body reacted.
Then Eleanor stepped out.
“Why is everyone staring?”
Tyler laughed.
“You need a less evil-looking car.”
Eleanor looked offended.
“It is a company vehicle.”
“Exactly.”
Even Susan laughed.
We ate sandwiches on Grandma’s porch.
It felt strange.
Incomplete.
But peaceful.
Then Judge Pendelton arrived carrying an envelope.
“What now?” I asked.
He smiled.
“This is not bad news.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I no longer trust envelopes.”
“Fair.”
He handed it to me.
Inside was a deed.
Property on Main Street.
A narrow brick storefront.
I looked at him.
“What is this?”
“Your mother bought it.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Three months before she died.”
“Why?”
May you like
Pendelton smiled.
“She was going to open a bookstore.”
