Chapter 2
Claire Khumalo bent under the desk lamp, steadying the pearl in her tweezers as she twisted the wire.
Just a little more, and she could start layering the necklaces—hopefully shipping the overdue order by the week’s end.
She’d already tested the client’s patience twice.
She couldn’t risk another delay, not with her business hanging by a thread more delicate than any in her necklaces.
A sigh broke her focus. In the Pack ’n Play, Bella sprawled on her back, little hands relaxed at her sides, her steady breaths raising her pink jumper.
Just two weeks before Albert passed, the pediatrician reminded Claire and Albert that Bella should always sleep on her back, a precaution that now felt like a clasp to the past when Albert fussed over his daughter’s every tiny breath.
Claire’s throat tightened. The ache of her brother’s death spread through her. He wasn’t coming back.
Last night was endless. Bella wailed until nearly five a.m., inconsolable despite Claire’s desperate attempts to change and rock her.
When Bella finally fell asleep, Claire crawled back to bed, beyond exhausted.
She'd helped with Bella since her birth, but Albert always took care of her during the nights. She’d just drifted off before Dad’s six a.m. medicine alarm jolted her awake.
She scrambled to refill his pill organizer, pour his meds, get his cereal, and set his favorite Western channel.
Sleep slipped away, as elusive as the gemstones she could no longer afford.
Now, sunlight slanted through the closed blinds, adding extra light as she reached for another pearl from the plastic organizer. She slid it onto the string and twisted it with the tweezers, her fingers finding a steady rhythm.
Bella’s breathing shifted, growing faster, more restless. Claire glanced over. Bright eyes, wide and expectant, fixed on her.
“Hey, sweetheart.” She stifled a sigh and fiddled with the necklace, its unfinished loops and empty spaces mirroring her life. “I was hoping you’d sleep longer so Auntie could finish this necklace. Can you hang out there a bit more?”
Bella’s face twisted, and her quivering lips warned of a coming wail.
“I guess not. All right, the necklace can wait.” Claire gathered the scattered supplies and stuffed loose pearls and tools into their cylinders.
She had the rest of her supplies at the shop.
Come the first of the month, she’d give up the space she rented at The Gift Garden. She had no time for it now.
A glance at the clock had her pushing to her feet.
“Hmm, nine twenty.” Irina would be here in ten to watch Bella.
So Claire could meet with Guy. And Wade.
Her stomach clenched. Of course, she’d have to face him again, given his role in Albert’s life.
“Let’s get you ready for Irina, so Auntie can pretend to be a responsible adult for a few hours. ”
She scooped Bella into her arms. The baby’s sobs tugged at Claire’s heart, and she hugged her close, inhaling the sweet, powdery baby scent. “It’s all right, baby girl.”
It would feel so good to cry like that. The hospital’s confirmation this week had crushed Claire.
Not a heart attack, but a cardiac arrest while biking.
Just three weeks ago, Albert had been here, teasing her about some new show he planned to pitch to his best friend.
How had she ever taken that for granted?
“What do you think? If I hadn’t offered to watch you so he could go for that ride, would he still be here?” She swayed Bella from side to side. “No answer for your auntie? Me neither. But you’ll be good for Irina while I’m gone, okay?”
She kissed Bella’s brown curls, a mirror of her own, except Claire had wrung hers into a ponytail.
With Dad’s British and South African roots and Mom’s French heritage, Claire struggled to claim just one identity.
Born in South Africa, she was only a year old when her parents immigrated to America and settled in Pleasant View, a place where they’d once vacationed.
They’d left South Africa to escape the turmoil of racial segregation, choosing safety for her and Albert.
With Bella balanced on her hip, she moved down the hall, past Albert’s closed bedroom door.
She hadn’t set foot in there since his death.
Someday, she’d have to face that space and figure out how to give Bella her own room.
But not while every trace of her brother still lingered in there.
Instead, Claire tiptoed around her room, not to wake Bella.
In the living room, Dad sat in his leather recliner, focus on the TV, shoulders shaking as he laughed as if he didn’t have an oxygen tube resting against his light-brown cheek.
The water bottle in his recliner holder was half full and the oxygen tank on.
His gaze lifted when she and Bella approached.
“There’s my two beautiful girls.”
Claire leaned in, letting him kiss Bella’s cheek.
“Dad, I’m going to top off your water.” She reached for the clear insulated bottle. And in case he’d already forgotten, she reminded him. “Irina will be here to keep you and Bella company. She’ll get your snack after your medicine at ten thirty, all right?”
“Why is your teacher coming to take care of Bella?” His brown eyes clouded, and the familiar ache invaded her chest.
She crouched down, meeting his gaze to help him focus. “Irina’s my best friend, Dad. She comes every Friday, and we watch movies.”
“Oh.” His hand trembled as he placed it on hers.
His Parkinson’s must be getting worse because even simple things were hard for him now.
She squeezed his hand. With his early dementia, Parkinson’s, and low blood pressure, he needed oxygen to keep his breathing steady, though each day carried fresh challenges.
Claire set Bella in the baby bouncy gym, and her little fingers grabbed one of the colorful plastic animals around the bouncer. Claire then rushed to the kitchen to mix Bella’s formula in the bottle. The doorbell rang as she shook the bottle to blend the powder into the water.
Then the door opened. “I always forget I have a key.” Irina stepped inside and hugged Claire, her skin cool from the September morning.
“Thanks so much for coming.” Claire held her tight. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
Irina eased back, her eyebrows lifting. As petite as she was, her vibrant smile nearly overpowered her.
“If we’re paying back, I’m indebted to you.
” She walked past Claire. “With all the money you keep giving away, you’ll never have any left to pay me back.
Diamond keeps reminding me that she owes you time for anything you need. ”
“She doesn’t owe me anything.” Claire closed the door and updated Irina on Diamond’s new job at The Summit at Sunshine Manor. Claire had met Irina’s friend when Diamond’s mom was undergoing treatments and in dire need of medical funds. “I wish the money helped her mom heal.”
“We couldn’t control that.”
They hovered by the entrance, and Irina waved to Claire’s outfit. “You’re not going to see Wade dressed like that, are you?”
Claire fumbled with her blue sweats and the worn T-shirt Wade left years ago when he and Albert cycled for a fundraiser. “Should I go for a professional look?”
“It’s not about being professional.” Irina linked their arms, her subtle Russian accent warming her scolding tone. “You know what I mean.”
Of course, Claire did. She’d had a quiet crush on Wade since she was eleven, even if he was six years older.
Yep, that crush had escalated, and she’d kissed him when she was eighteen and he was twenty-four.
It didn’t end with her claiming him. Her lips tingled.
That was all in the past—or so she told herself whenever he crossed her mind.
When they moved to the living room, Claire patted Dad’s shoulder. “Irina’s here.”
He looked over from the TV, eyes lighting up. “Irina.”
“Morning, John.” Irina beamed before scooping Bella into her arms. “And there’s my little cutie pie!” She peppered Bella’s cheeks with kisses, sending the baby into a fit of delighted giggles that warmed Claire’s insides.
“Medicine’s on the counter, and the alarm should go off at ten thirty,” Claire reminded Irina. Albert bought a digital alarm for Dad’s nightstand that was loud enough to hear from any room in the house. “He’ll let you know what snack he wants.”
“Get dressed already! You’re running late.” Irina waved her off, and Claire mouthed her thanks.
She knew what she’d wear, having sorted through her closet last night while Bella fussed in her arms. She’d pair her brown dress with silver stud earrings and ankle boots.
Standing before the mirror, she straightened her curly hair, ran a wide-tooth comb through it, and let it fall on her shoulders.
The subtle green in her eyes, she inherited from Mom.
She then gave herself a quick spin, her pulse thrumming in her throat.
She was going to see Wade. Would he show up?
Would this be the last time she saw him?
The attorney had sounded confident Wade would be there to go over Albert’s will. Wade didn’t need any of Albert’s assets, except maybe to oversee Albert’s business. But for her, it was all about Bella’s care, the beginning of formal arrangements. She intended to take care of Bella, will or not.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her knee-length dress.
It was just a short meeting, nothing more.
She and Wade would listen to the attorney, discuss whatever Albert left, and part ways.
That was it. Just a small, necessary intersection of their lives.
No reason for the stirring in her chest or the way her heart whispered this might be something different—another moment with Wade like she’d shared at her graduation and almost at Albert’s wedding.
She headed out. Pleasant View’s main street was quiet, just a normal September morning. Hanging baskets and string lights that stayed lit all year adorned the storefronts and trees. In three weeks, tourists would be swarming in for the ski season.
Guy’s office was nestled between Blissful Bites Bakery and The Gift Garden where she sold her jewelry.
She slid from her vehicle into air so crisp and cool.
With the mountains casting long shadows, shafts of morning sunlight glinted off shop windows.
No matter where she stood in Pleasant View, the mountains asserted their presence.
She breathed in the pastries’ enticing scent and pictured eating her favorite cupcake while calming her nerves.
Pleasant View was her only home. Here, she was rooted, even if everything else eroded.
The town was small enough to foster a sense of community, yet large enough that strangers didn’t feel out of place. Locals often crossed paths in the shops or at community events, and familiar faces formed part of everyday life.
As she pushed open the door, a bell jingled. Inside, the aroma of worn leather mingled with the faint musk of old books.
“Claire Khumalo?” The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, offered a welcoming smile.
“It’s me.”
“Mr. Rhodeman is expecting you.” The woman nodded toward the half-open door.
Nerves prickled Claire’s skin as she pushed the door and slid inside.
“Claire, welcome.” His smile kind, Guy rose from his desk. He extended his hand, his brown skin radiant under the daylight streaming through the big window behind him. He looked familiar, probably from crossing paths on the street.
“Have a seat please.” He gestured to the empty chairs across from his desk.
Wade wasn’t here yet.
She exhaled, but the empty chair beside hers wouldn’t stay vacant long. A jittery pulse coursed through her, and she bit her lower lip to contain her anticipation over seeing him.
“Would you like some coffee? Water?” Guy tapped on his laptop.
“I’m good. Thank you, though.” She settled further into the chair and fidgeted with her handbag strap. Her gaze wandered to the walls where photos displayed local landmarks, community events, and old black-and-white family portraits, a collage of the town’s history.
The muffled ring of the front-desk phone drifted into the room, as did the receptionist’s muted conversation. Were those footsteps? The door creaked, and Wade strolled in.
Handsome as usual, he wore fitted jeans and a navy shirt beneath a red blazer.
He’d always favored bright colors. She’d last seen him at Albert’s funeral when grief dulled everything.
But now, seeing him alive and vivid in front of her reignited memories of that heated kiss on her graduation day.
What was she wearing today? Had she applied her deodorant?
“Wade Stone!” Guy flashed a smile.
When Wade’s gaze met hers, Claire might as well have been sitting on coals. She clutched the armrests and stood without thinking. Her knees buckled, and her purse tumbled from her lap. The chair scraped the floor—wobbled it seemed when she tumbled backward, her arms flailing to regain her balance.
Strong and steady arms caught her, and Wade’s hand warmed her lower back.
“Whoa, Cupcake. You all right?” His voice was music, his arms firm, hauling her upright as she tried to gather herself. His nickname for her, one he’d used since he’d caught her sneaking a cupcake when she was eight—sent a pang through her chest.
She was still Cupcake—Albert’s kid sister.
If only she could disappear! Her cheeks flamed, and Wade’s touch lingered. His brown eyes searched hers with a depth she’d seen before.
Don’t look at his mouth. She stole another look at his handsome face.
His neatly trimmed beard outlined his well-defined jawline and kept his polished look in check.
His brown hair still had a slight wave. When he cleared his throat, she remembered what she was supposed to do.
Words stuck in her throat, so she could only manage a nod.
She tried not to read into the way his gaze softened.
“Careful there.” His voice low now, he slid his hand away, leaving her off-kilter with a racing heart.
While the warmth of his touch dissipated like his sandalwood scent, an ache stirred. After their kiss rocked her world, he’d made it clear: to him, she was “Cupcake,” nothing more.