Chapter 10 - A Toast to Tomorrow
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a brilliant golden and amethyst glow across the Atlantic coastline as the evening tide rolled gently against the Newport shore.
On the stone terrace of the newly restored youth leadership center—formerly the Hawthorne summer estate—a small gathering of founders, educators, community leaders, and friends raised their glasses in a quiet toast to the center’s official grand opening.
David stood beside me, his arm resting gently around my waist as we looked out over the lawn where dozens of laughing teenagers were testing out the new architectural labs and art studios funded by the Vantage endowment.
The air smelled of salt water, blooming jasmine, and the clean promise of a new season. There were no rented boats, no snobbish insults, no cowardly silences, and no fragile illusions built on debt and cruelty.
“To new beginnings,” David said, clinking his glass against mine.
May you like
“To knowing your worth,” I replied, smiling as the evening breeze caught my hair, “and never letting anyone make you feel small again.”
We drank, the rich, crisp wine cool against our lips, while the distant lights of the harbor twinkled like a million tiny stars, guiding every ship safely home.
