Chapter 9 - New Foundations
Six months later, the autumn air had turned crisp and biting, carrying the sharp, salty scent of the Atlantic Harbor.
I stood on the steel deck of a container vessel docked at the Port of Boston, wearing my heavy canvas jacket, steel-toed boots, and a high-visibility vest. My right knee was still slightly stiff, and I wore a lighter, flexible sports brace underneath my trousers, but the joint was strong. The surgical repair had held.
My operations manager walked up beside me, holding a clipboard and grinning.
“Well, Merritt, the structural assessment on hull number four is pristine. The insurance underwriters just approved the full payout. Your commission check is cleared—sixty-five thousand, right on schedule.”
“Good,” I smiled, tightening my clipboard strap. “Let's move on to inspection dock five. I want to check the hydraulic cranes before the afternoon tide comes in.”
As we walked down the gangway toward the pier, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It wasn't a family number. It was an unknown local call.
I slipped it out, tapped the screen, and answered.
“Merritt?”
It was Dad's voice. He sounded older, thinner, and completely broken. The arrogant posture and smooth cadence were entirely gone, replaced by the shaky, desperate tone of a man whose world had collapsed.
“Judson,” I said neutrally.
“Merritt, please... we need to talk,” he choked out, a sob catching in his throat. “Your mother hasn't slept in three days. Sloan's trial is next month, and her lawyer says... he says she's looking at actual prison time unless we can raise two hundred thousand dollars for restitution and legal fees. We've already mortgaged the house, but the bank won't extend us another line of credit. Your accounts are... you have the resources, Merritt. You're our daughter. Please. Family helps family.”
I stopped walking on the concrete pier, looking out across the vast, gray expanse of the harbor where enormous cargo ships rode steadily at anchor, riding the deep currents with unbreakable strength.
“Dad,” I said, my voice calm, clear, and completely devoid of anger. “You taught me a very important lesson a long time ago.”
There was a tense, agonizing silence on the other end of the line.
“What... what lesson?” he whispered.
“Sloan needed a decent start in life, and you told me I was resourceful,” I replied softly. “You said I always knew how to take care of myself.”
May you like
I didn't wait for him to answer.
I tapped the red end call button, slipped the phone back into my pocket, and turned toward the loading dock, stepping firmly onto solid ground.
