Chapter 22 - The Autumn Festival
By October, the Mercer Island estate had become a vibrant hub of the local community. The annual Autumn Festival was held on the expansive front lawn, complete with pumpkin patches, apple cider stands, and live acoustic music echoing across the neighborhood.
Children ran across the open grass, and the old iron gates—now permanently unhinged and replaced by decorative stone pillars—welcomed hundreds of local residents who previously would never have dared approach the infamous Walsh fortress.
Declan stood near the front porch, handing out cider to a group of university students from Tessa’s economics department. He wore a comfortable flannel shirt, laughing easily as one of the students cracked a joke about his notoriously strict guest-lecture grading rubric.
As the students walked off toward the music, Sarah Lindqvist walked up the stone pathway, carrying a small basket of homemade apple pastries.
“Word on the street is that your cider is the best on the island, Mr. Walsh,” Sarah teased, handing him the basket.
Declan took it with a grin. “It’s all in the secret recipe—mostly just letting go of twenty years of syndicate stress and adding a dash of cinnamon.”
May you like
Sarah laughed, leaning against the porch railing beside him. “The university feedback on your guest lectures has been phenomenal, Declan. The dean was telling me yesterday that enrollment in your ethics seminar is already waitlisted for next semester.”
“Turns out people like hearing the truth from someone who made every mistake in the book first,” Declan replied, looking out over the crowded, joyful lawn.
