Chapter 6 - The Private Suite at the Plaza
One hour later.
Inside the sprawling presidential suite of the Plaza Hotel, the storm outside was held at bay by double-paned insulated glass and the warm, crackling flames of a marble hearth.
Clara was wrapped in a thick, cream cashmere robe, her hair washed and dried into soft auburn curls, smelling of lavender and warm vanilla.
On the oversized sofa before the fire sat four-year-old Lily.
She had discarded the wet pink coat. She wore warm flannel pajamas, sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, happily sipping a mug of hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows.
Beside her sat her twin sister, Emma.
Emma was dressed in an identical flannel set, her chestnut curls bouncing as she leaned close to Lily, their faces mirrored images of pure, unblemished innocence.
The two little girls were holding their hands together, giggling as they compared their wrists:
“Look, Mommy!” Emma shouted, pointing her small finger. “My star is on the left, and Lily’s star is on the right! They make a whole constellation!”
Ethan sat on the low ottoman before them, his large, calloused hands resting gently over his daughters’ knees, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of profound, sacred joy.
Clara walked to the sofa, kneeling beside Ethan, wrapping her arm around his broad shoulders.
Lily reached out her small hand, touching the joined silver locket hanging around Clara’s neck:
“Mommy… are we going to have to sleep in the cold again?”
Clara pulled both girls into her chest, burying her face into their soft, clean hair:
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“Never again, my sweet angels,” Clara wept softly, her heart beating with an unshakeable, eternal peace.
“We are home. We are finally home.”
