But the real shock came when I opened the envelope.
Inside was a deed of trust for a small rental property.
“It’s modest,” he said, noting my stunned expression.
“But it should make up for the trouble. Eleanor would have wanted you to have it.
She always believed in rewarding kindness.”
The property’s rental income wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough.
For the first time in years, I could breathe. I quit my soul-crushing office job and set up a small ceramics studio; something I’d dreamed of since college but never had the courage to pursue.
At my first craft fair, I met James. He came to buy a bowl and stayed to talk for hours.
He was kind, intelligent, and made me laugh without trying.
This time, I didn’t rush.
We took things slow and got to know each other. He understood my past, my fears, my dreams.
Six months later, when he proposed under a sky full of stars, it felt right.
The morning I discovered I was pregnant, I sat in my backyard, watching the sun rise over the same stone wall where Archibald had appeared. My hand rested on my stomach, and tears of joy ran down my cheeks.
Everything I’d ever wanted was finally within reach.
Nine months later, I held my daughter for the first time.
James kissed my forehead, and I felt complete.
Mr. Grayson sent flowers and a tiny silver locket.
Sometimes I think about that morning, about the cat who changed everything. The $100,000 would have helped for a while, but what I gained instead was beyond price.
🤔🤔🤔
Source: amomama
