Claire began crying harder.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Daniel handed her a tissue.
I looked at Russell.
“Not because of the house.”
He smiled.
“I know.”
“Not because of the money.”
“I know.”
“And not because I need saving anymore.”
That smile disappeared.
Something deeper replaced it.
Pride.
“Good.”
I took his hand.
I want to know who we are when neither of us needs anything from the other.”
Russell squeezed my fingers.
“I’d like that.”
—
# PART 8 — **EXACTLY WHAT I DESERVED**
One year later, Bellweather House reopened.
Not as a mansion.
Not as a museum.
Not as a monument to Russell Langford.
As a refuge.
The sign outside simply read:
**THE ELEANOR & MARGARET HOUSE**
Claire insisted on Eleanor’s name coming first.
My mother pretended to object.
Nobody believed her.
The farmhouse was rebuilt almost exactly as it had been.
Except the basement was gone.
No hidden corridors.
