The air was cool and smelled of dry leaves.

I got into my car and drove toward the highway.

My new home was a small cottage on the north shore of Long Island, overlooking the water.

It was white with blue shutters, and it had a small garden in the back that faced the sound.

I arrived just as the sun was setting.

The water was flat and gray, reflecting the pink clouds in the western sky.

I walked inside and smelled the fresh paint and the salt air from the open window.

The movers had already delivered my boxes.

I unpacked my mother’s garden painting first.

I hung it on the wall in the living room, right where the morning light would hit it.

I opened her jewelry box and touched the small gold band she had worn every day of her life.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was an email notification from my bank.

The wire transfer of the estate funds had cleared.

The balance in my account showed seven million, two hundred thousand dollars.

I closed the email and put the phone on the kitchen counter.

I sat down on the small armchair by the window and watched the tide come in.

The water rose slowly, covering the dark rocks on the shore.

I was alone, but for the first time in a very long time, I was safe.