Chapter 29 - THE RECKONING IN CEDAR COUNTY
The final civil hearing to dissolve the Tri-County Timber Trust was held in the small, wood-paneled courtroom of Cedar County on a Tuesday afternoon when the scent of honeysuckle was beginning to drift through the open double-hung windows.
Judge Henderson—a cousin of the orchardist, who had been appointed by the governor to replace Eleanor’s disgraced former partner—sat beneath the state seal, his wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.
The courtroom was almost empty.
There were no reporters. No television trucks. Just me, Marcus, and the court-appointed receiver, an elderly accountant named Mr. Albright who had spent forty years checking tax rolls for the county.
Eleanor was brought in through the side holding door.
She was handcuffed at the wrists, the chain linked to a leather transport belt around her waist. Her hair was completely gray now, cut blunt at her shoulders, and her prison-issue canvas shoes scuffed softly against the worn oak floorboards.
She did not look at me as she was seated at the defense table. She stared fixedly at the brass water pitcher in front of her attorney.
"In the matter of the Arthur Holloway Estate," Judge Henderson said, his voice dry, calm, and deliberate, "the court has reviewed the master’s report, the forensic accounting submitted by the Department of Justice, and the final order of the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals."
He picked up his fountain pen, dipped the nib into a small bottle of black ink, and drew a single, decisive line across the bottom of the blue ledger.
"The Tri-County Timber Trust is hereby declared null, void ab initio, as the product of systemic fraud and posthumous alteration," Henderson said. "All lands, timber rights, mineral reserves, and water assets previously seized under the 2018 corporate reorganization are restored unconditionally to the sole possession of June Margaret Holloway, as designated by the holographic will of Arthur Holloway dated October 12, 1991."
The gavel came down. A single, dull *thud* that seemed to settle thirty years of shouting into the dust motes hanging in the afternoon sun.
"Court is adjourned," Henderson said, standing up and gathering his papers without looking down from the bench.
The bailiff touched Eleanor’s shoulder. "Let's go, Mrs. Holloway."
As she turned toward the side door, our eyes met.
There was no rage left in her face. The terrifying, theatrical superiority that had ruled my life since childhood had dried up, leaving only a hollow, brittle mask of bone and wrinkled skin.
She opened her mouth to speak.
Perhaps she was going to ask about the house. Perhaps she was going to ask about Claire. Or perhaps she was going to ask if I remembered the mornings she had sent me out into the frost with torn boots while Claire stayed by the parlor fire.
I didn't give her the chance.
I picked up my leather gloves from the bench, took Marcus by the arm, and walked through the heavy swinging gate of the bar toward the double doors of the courtroom.
Behind us, the iron lock of the holding cell clicked shut.
We walked out onto the high stone portico. The air was warm, smelling of wild mountain mint, sweet red dirt, and the clean, endless pine timber stretching south toward the river.
Waverly was waiting on the grass below, sitting on a wooden bench beside Marcus’s mother, eating a peach with both hands, juice running down her small wrists into the lace cuffs of her white dress.
When she saw us, she stood up, wiped her chin with the back of her hand, and ran toward the steps, her yellow boots flashing in the summer light like two bright coins.
"June!" she shouted, her voice ringing out across the quiet courthouse square. "June, look! The swallows came back to the barn!"
I caught her at the bottom step, swinging her up into the crook of my arm. The weight of her was warm, solid, and entirely free of ghosts.
May you like
"I know, baby," I whispered against her hair, which smelled of sunlight and cedar. "I know they did."
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