Chapter 9 - THE SOUND OF THE SUN
Six months later.
The Cain Estate on the banks of the Mississippi looked as though it had been carved from a dream.
The marble floors reflected the warm light of the crystal chandeliers. But tonight, there were no politicians, no mobsters, no cruel heiresses spilling wine.
The ballroom was filled with children.
Balloons floated to the ceiling. A massive banner hung across the grand staircase that read: Welcome to the Cain Foundation Pediatric Wing Gala.
Fay stood near the French doors, watching the chaos with a full heart. She wore a stunning sapphire gown, her chestnut hair falling in soft waves. She wasn't carrying a silver tray. She was holding a crystal glass of sparkling cider, laughing as Mrs. Odette—now the head of all culinary operations for the Cain Foundation—shooed a group of giggling toddlers away from the dessert table.
Rafferty came up behind Fay, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He wore a sharp black tuxedo, but the coldness in his eyes was completely gone.
“You threw a hell of a party,” Rafferty murmured against her neck.
Fay leaned back into his solid warmth. “I had a good budget to work with.”
They watched as a little girl in a sparkly silver dress darted through the crowd.
Josie.
Tucked neatly behind both of Josie’s ears were state-of-the-art cochlear implants, fully funded by the hospital Rafferty now owned.
Josie stopped near the center of the room. She looked around, taking in the sights.
Rafferty let go of Fay and stepped out toward the edge of the dance floor. He knelt down, balancing on one knee despite the expensive suit.
“Josie,” Rafferty called out. He didn't shout, but he spoke clearly.
Across the room, Josie froze. She didn't need to touch the floorboards. She didn't need to press her hand against a cheek.
She turned her head. Her eyes locked onto Rafferty.
A massive, gap-toothed smile broke across her face. “Daddy!”
The word wasn't perfect, but to Rafferty and Fay, it was the most beautiful sound in the history of the world.
Josie ran across the polished marble and threw herself into Rafferty’s arms. He caught her, lifting her high into the air as she shrieked with laughter—a bright, ringing sound that filled the massive room.
He pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears.
Fay walked over, her own eyes shining. She wrapped her arms around both of them, completing the circle.
Later that evening, after the guests had gone and the estate was quiet, the three of them sat on the floor of the private study. The fire popped and crackled in the hearth.
Josie was sitting cross-legged on the rug, a stack of colored paper in front of her.
She picked up a blue sheet and carefully began to fold the corners. Rafferty sat beside her, picking up a yellow sheet, following her exact movements.
Fay sat in Rafferty’s large leather chair, watching them. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the old crayon drawing—the mother and daughter beneath the crooked sun.
She looked at the drawing, and then she looked at Rafferty, who was laughing as Josie playfully corrected his clumsy folding technique.
Fay picked up a pen from the desk. She carefully drew a tall, broad-shouldered stick figure next to the mother and daughter, holding their hands under the sun.
Rafferty looked up and saw her drawing. He smiled, that rare, gentle smile reserved only for her.
He held up his finished paper boat. Josie held up hers. They sailed them across the carpet toward Fay.
May you like
The mafia boss who had built an empire to protect himself from the cold had finally found his warmth. And the maid who had fought to keep her dignity had finally found a king who knew she was a queen all along.
They weren't sailing alone anymore.
