and no words can express the abyss between isolation and having one ally.
Two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one.
― G.K. Chesterton
Greer
Maybe I’m fetishistic and prone to believe in portents and superstitions, but it is the winter solstice and longest night of the year.
But I’m not focussed on darkness—every day from now on will be a few minutes longer.
The seasonal change should bring a bit more light, not only to the natural world, but to the cave of my psyche and help dispel the gloom that’s been clouding my outlook.
The upcoming year does look promising. Besides Moira’s good news, Greer and I declared our love and that alone almost makes up for Jeff’s betrayal and his destruction of my company.
Taking a broader view, I know it’s only a temporary setback and I’m sure I can be successful again, especially with Greer by my side.
Although I grieve the loss of a friend, I don’t need people like Jeff in my life who are jealous and secretly want me to fail. That’s still an open wound but in time Greer’s love will help me to heal.
Her voice brings me back to reality. “You haven’t heard what I came by to tell you.”
“You mean there’s more good news?” I laughed.
“My editor and I talked and he wants me to counter Cec Crabbe’s ‘expose’ with a series of articles stating the facts about how Jeff defrauded you and actually hurt the community because you’re no longer able to build affordable housing.”
“Seriously?” I gasped, “that could go a long way to restoring my reputation.”
“Not only that,” she continued, “but the Society of Professional Journalists is putting pressure on The Telegraph to print a retraction of Crabbe’s muckraking article and the owner of the paper is receiving all kinds of criticism from other news outlets to issue a full apology to you.”
My head was spinning. The best I had hoped for was to be able to retain my license to acquire and renovate properties and gradually re-establish my credibility in the community.
“I don’t know what to say,” I muttered. “This is all coming at me so quickly.”
“Don’t get too far out over your skis,” she cautioned, “who knows what devilry Jeff Forestall already planned and set into motion? He could delay and tie this case up in the courts indefinitely. You’re not out of the woods yet.”
She was right. I had no idea how long Jeff had been plotting this crime and how much actual planning he put into maligning my reputation. He may have planted false information or forged documents that under investigation might explode like hidden sticks of dynamite.
My only consolation was that I had a well-respected lawyer in Reginald Dennison whose expertise in such matters would protect my interests.
“You do know that Dennison is a King’s Counsel, don’t you?” Greer asked.
My jaw dropped. “No, I didn’t realize he attained such an elite status in the legal profession.”
She smiled, “I got you the best advocate—so, don’t get too stressed. Dennison doesn’t lose cases. The best Jeff can do is delay the process.”
I hugged her again. I couldn’t have asked for a better lawyer but I was holding my best defender tightly in my arms.