Chapter 18 - The New Tradition
Christmas Eve at 442 Oakridge Lane looked entirely different from the lavish, stressful holiday parties of previous years.
There were no caterers, no imported champagne, and no overflowing tables of luxury goods meant to impress corporate executives who didn't care about them anyway.
The tree in the living room was decorated with simple paper ornaments Mason had made at school and wooden snowflakes Thomas had carved in his workshop.
Clinton stood near the kitchen counter, wearing an old apron, helping me slice the roasted ham while Stephanie set the dining table with our everyday porcelain plates.
"You know, Margaret," Clinton said quietly, keeping his voice low so Stephanie wouldn't overhear across the room, "I never thanked you properly. For the life estate lien. For stopping that payment when you did."
I paused, looking over at my son-in-law. His posture was less rigid now; the false corporate confidence had been replaced by a genuine, grounded humility.
"If I hadn't stopped it, Clinton, you and Stephanie would have eventually crashed so hard there wouldn't have been anything left to salvage," I said gently.
May you like
He nodded slowly, staring down at the cutting board. "I know. I thought money and titles were everything. Turns out, having peace of mind and a family that actually loves you for who you are is worth infinitely more."
"Welcome to reality," I smiled, handing him another slice of ham. "It's a much better place to live."
