Her life is in the city, though, and she deserves to live out her dreams with a man who is worthy of her love. A man who isn’t such a coward.
Bea started kindergarten, and that is what keeps us going. It’s a distraction for the both of us. We have less time to miss Claire. My girl adores her teacher and climbs out of the car with a wide smile on her face every morning. But the afternoons and evenings at home are rough. She’s moody and pouty, the sullen attitude beginning to concern me. She’s been begging to FaceTime Claire, but I keep making excuses for why we can’t.
Truth is, I can’t bear the idea of seeing her and not holding her.
It’s only a matter of time before my daughter sees right through me.
If I’m not thinking about Claire, I’m consumed by the camp expansion and funding options.
With my laptop out on the front porch, I’m buried in work, somewhat successfully keeping my mind from drifting to a certain woman. When my phone rings, I consider ignoring it, but since it could be work-related, I dig it out of my pocket.
“Can you come into the office?” my father-in-law says in way of greeting.
“I’m in the middle of something right now, but I can be there in about an hour.”
“You’re going to want to see this now,” he says, his voice firm.
My hackles rise. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Just… You’ll see when you get here.”
Depending on how long this thing with Jack takes, I might not have time to email investors before school pickup. But clearly this is urgent, so I hang up and speed over to the mainoffice.
“What is it? What happened?” I ask as I walk into the building.
Jack looks at me, bewildered, and Natalie’s face is blotchy like she’s been crying.
Fuck. My heart sinks.
Jack is holding a long and narrow cardboard box with one end torn open.
“Here.” He passes me a folded piece of paper.
With trembling hands, I unfold it and read it.
Then I read it again. And again and again.
“I—I don’t understand.” I look back and forth between my in-laws. “The construction for the expansion has been fully funded?”
In disbelief, I scan the letter one more time. It’s printed on my lawyer’s letterhead, with his signature at the bottom, so it’s legit.
“Do you know who did this?” Natalie asks.
I shake my head, flabbergasted.
Jack takes the letter from me and passes the package over.
With care, I pull out the bubble-wrapped item. The tape is torn, meaning Jack and Natalie have already seen it. I pass the box to Jack, then unwrap the plastic.
The lights above glint against the gold plaque as I gloss over it with my fingers. And as I read the engraving, my heart lodges in my throat and my breath gets trapped deep within my lungs.
The first line of engraving reads: The Hive.
Below, it says: For our beloved mother, wife, daughter, and friend, Daisy Greer. May her memory live on in children’s smiles at The Hive.
Tears spill over my cheeks like water from a dam. Thankfully, Natalie shuffles over with a box of tissue.
“Claire,” I choke, stumbling back and bumping into a chair. Icollapse, causing the chair to scoot back a few inches, clinging to the plaque, my tears running unchecked.
