Chapter 10 - The New Foundation and the Sea Glass Cottage
Sea Glass Cottage stood atop a gentle dune overlooking the ocean, weathered gray cedar shingles gleaming softly in the afternoon sun.
It wasn't a sprawling mega-mansion, nor was it a sterile monument to old-money pretension. It was a sturdy, beautiful, historic building—built by a man with his own hands, designed to withstand Atlantic gales and salt spray, standing firm through every storm that battered the coast.
We walked up the wooden steps of the front porch, the salty breeze catching my hair.
Cole unlocked the front door, and the familiar scent of old pine, sea salt, and old books washed over us. Inside, the living room was bathed in golden afternoon light streaming through large picture windows overlooking the breaking waves.
I walked over to the mantelpiece, where an old black-and-white photograph of Grandfather Mercer standing proudly in front of the unfinished cottage sat in a simple wooden frame. Beside it, I placed a small framed photo of my father, Mateo, standing proudly outside Alvarez Motors in his grease-stained work shirt.
Cole walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin softly on my shoulder.
“How does it feel, El?” he whispered, looking at the two photographs side-by-side.
I looked down at my wrist. My mother’s silver Bulova watch caught a stray beam of sunlight, the scratched glass sparkling brightly against the afternoon glow.
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“It feels solid,” I said, leaning back into his embrace, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. “It feels like home.”
We stood there together in the quiet cottage, listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves outside—a brand-new foundation built not on lies, or frosting, or family status, but on truth, resilience, and an unshakeable love that no amount of money could ever buy.
