Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Tree
By late afternoon, the Westport Manor was filled with the kind of warmth and laughter that money couldn't buy.
Aunt Claire had driven over with her family, bringing English Christmas crackers and endless stories about London society. Several of my closest nurse colleagues from County General had arrived with takeout containers of homemade tamales and medical gossip that made Aunt Claire choke on her tea. The grand salon was chaotic, loud, and bursting with life—exactly what a true family Christmas was supposed to be.
After dinner, as the snow began to fall again outside the frosted bay windows, I slipped away from the party for a moment.
I walked into the formal library, where a small fire was crackling in the hearth. The room was quiet, lit only by the warm amber glow of the tree lights reflecting off the leather-bound book spines.
I walked over to the mahogany mantelpiece. Sitting right in the center, framed in simple silver, was an old black-and-white photograph of Grandma Ruth as a young woman, laughing with her arms thrown wide.
Next to it, I placed a brand-new Polaroid photo taken just an hour ago: Aunt Claire, Liam, my ER colleagues, Mrs. Higgins, and me, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the massive Fraser fir, smiling so hard our cheeks hurt.
The door opened softly, and Liam walked in, holding two glasses of champagne. He stopped beside me, looking at the photos on the mantel.
"Looks like a pretty solid inner circle," Liam murmured, handing me a glass.
I clinked my glass against his, looking out at the snow-covered grounds of the estate.
"It's not an inner circle anymore, Liam," I smiled, resting my head against his shoulder. "It's just a family."
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Outside, the snow continued to fall over Westport, blanketing the old town in white, sealing away the past, and leaving an open, unwritten road stretching out into the bright, beautiful new year.
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