Chapter 17 - The Truth Finally Walked Into the Light
Derek’s sentencing hearing happened almost a year after our first blind date.
By then, autumn had returned.
Boston rain again.
Of course.
I almost laughed when I saw it streaking the courthouse windows.
Some stories apparently insisted on symmetry.
Victims were allowed to give statements.
Ruth refused at first.
“I don’t want to see him.”
Then she changed her mind.
She wore blue.
Harold wore his Red Sox cap until security made him remove it.
I sat between them.
Anton sat behind me.
Not in front.
Never in front.
When Derek entered, he looked older.
Prison and court proceedings had stripped away the polished conference-speaker shine.
He saw me.
His expression did not change.
Mine didn’t either.
Ruth spoke first.
She talked about her husband.
Forty-six years together.
Factory work.
Saving.
No vacations outside New England.
Every dollar represented time.
“You did not take numbers,” she told Derek.
“You took years my husband stood on concrete floors.”
The courtroom went completely silent.
Harold spoke about embarrassment.
Marlene spoke about almost losing her house.
Then my name was called.
I walked forward.
Derek watched.
For once, he had no control over whether I spoke.
“My name is Grace Holloway.”
The sentence echoed the community meeting.
“I spent a long time believing this case began when I met Anton Marquetti.”
I looked toward Derek.
“It didn’t.”
“It began years earlier, when someone I loved learned that people trusted me.”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
“He mistook trust for access.”
I paused.
“He mistook kindness for weakness.”
Another pause.
“And he mistook contentment for lack of ambition.”
I thought of my apartment.
Library.
Tuesday reading groups.
Thursday technology sessions.
All the ordinary things Derek despised.
“I do not want a bigger life because of what happened.”
Derek looked surprised.
“I want my life.”
My voice steadied.
“I want the people in it safe.”
“I want quiet dinners.”
“I want books delivered to people who cannot leave home.”
“I want work measured in names instead of headlines.”
I looked at the judge.
“I used to think justice would make me feel victorious.”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t.”
“It makes me feel finished.”
Then I looked at Derek one last time.
“You told me my life was too small.”
He remained expressionless.
“You were wrong.”
I returned to my seat.
Anton took my hand.
The judge spoke for a long time.
About deliberate exploitation.
Elder fraud.
Forgery.
Abuse of trust.
Obstruction.
The sentence was substantial.
Not forever.
But years.
Derek showed little reaction.
As officers prepared to remove him, he turned.
Our eyes met.
For a fraction of a second, I remembered him standing in my kitchen years earlier, holding two coffee cups.
Young.
Smiling.
Someone I had loved.
Then the moment disappeared.
He walked away.
I felt no need to follow.
Outside the courthouse, reporters waited.
Anton offered an alternate exit.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
We walked through the front doors.
Questions exploded.
“Grace!”
“Ms. Holloway!”
“Anton!”
“Do you feel justice was served?”
I stopped.
Anton stopped beside me.
A microphone appeared.
“What happens now?”
I smiled.
“Tuesday book club.”
The reporter blinked.
“What?”
“I have work tomorrow.”
Anton laughed.
The clip went everywhere.
Renee printed a screenshot and hung it behind the circulation desk.
For weeks patrons repeated the line.
Tuesday book club.
It became almost a joke.
But to me it meant everything.
The world had tried to turn my life into scandal.
I chose ordinary.
May you like
And ordinary was waiting.
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