Chapter 7

seven

BEN

The next morning, I started my day with a smile. For the first time in months, I wasn't working on a Saturday morning. It was my birthday and, this year, I was going to pack a picnic and head into the mountains for a six-hour hike.

Just thinking about taking time off work seemed incredibly decadent. But I'd given my customers plenty of warning and left a closed sign on the front door. Since I'd moved my jewelry store to Main Street, the number of people coming through my door had tripled. It was great for business but didn't give me a lot of spare time.

I opened the kitchen window and smelled the calming scent of pine. Usually, I was so busy that I didn't get to appreciate what was around me. But not today. Today was all about celebrating the last twelve months and looking forward to the next.

My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller display before answering. "Hi, Dad."

"Happy birthday!"

The excitement in his voice made me laugh. "Anyone would think I've won the lottery."

"You've done a lot more than that," Tony Harper said proudly. "Look at what you've achieved. When I held you in my arms when you were a baby, I never thought my little boy would follow in his daddy's footsteps."

"Between you and Mom, I didn't stand a chance of being anything other than a painter or a jeweler." I'd spent many wonderful hours sitting in my parents' studio, watching them create some of the most beautiful pieces of art I'd ever seen. As my mom added layers of paint to her latest canvas, my dad had woven fine strands of gold and silver into intricate pendants or bracelets. Even now, when I was creating my own jewelry, I could sometimes smell the faint aroma of my mom's oils.

"It wouldn't have mattered what you did," my dad said. "Your mom and I would've been proud of you."

My smile disappeared. My mom had died three and a half years ago. It had been a terrible time, not only because of her death but because of the accusations against my dad. Stealing another jeweler's designs was one of the worst things you could do. The media had turned the trial into a reality TV show, making a mockery of being innocent unless proven guilty.

My mom didn't believed the lies. But it still hurt knowing she couldn't spend the last few months of her life peacefully at home.

Even though my dad couldn't see me, I forced a smile. "Imagine if I'd wanted to be an accountant. You wouldn't have known what to do with me."

My dad's response was immediate. "We would have loved you with all our hearts and then asked you for advice. Completing our taxes was never a favorite part of our lives."

"It's not mine, either. What are you doing today?"

"I'm working on a new spring collection. I have some rough ideas about where I want to go with the design, but the individual pieces need a little tweaking."

Tony Harper might have been cleared of stealing another jeweler's designs, but it hadn't helped him find work. Before the accusations hit the media, he'd worked for a high-end jewelry company in Los Angeles. Afterward, the only job he could find was working for a small jewelry store in San Francisco.

The owner was a friend of my dad's and knew he wouldn't have stolen anything. But mud sticks and Dad had borne the brunt of every false lie and accusation hurled at him.

Throughout everything, Dad's friends stood had stood beside him, allowing him the dignity of grieving for his wife and rebuilding his career.

I opened a kitchen cupboard and took out a coffee cup. "If you get stuck, you can always send your drawings through to me, Dad. I'll have a look and tell you what I think of the design."

"You have enough work to do. Did you decide to close the store today?"

"I did. It feels strange to still be at home and not on my way into town."

My dad sighed. "You spend too much time in your jewelry store. Maybe this year you could try working forty-hour weeks."

I knew my dad worked just as many hours as I did. "I promise to be more aware of how many hours I'm working."

"I suppose that's better than nothing. Did you get the flowers I sent you?"

The bright yellow sunflowers sat in a vase in the center of my table. I touched one of the petals and smiled. "I did. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"They reminded me of the time we went camping with your mom. I wish I was there to celebrate your birthday."

My eyes filled with tears. The price of clearing my dad's name had cost him more than his job. The attorney's bill had bankrupted him and flying to see me wasn't something he could afford. "I thought I'd fly to San Francisco to see you," I told him. "It won't be for another three or four months, though."

"I'll look forward to it. Just let me know when you'll be coming and I'll take some time off work."

"That sounds great." A knot of grief stuck in my chest. "Have you been to the cemetery?"

Each year on my birthday, my dad and I left three roses on my mother's grave. Mom loved birthdays and had always made a big deal of them. It was our way of making sure she was still part of the celebration, still part of our lives in whatever way we could manage.

The first rose represented the past, the wonderful time we'd had together. The second rose was for the here and now, the choices my dad and I were making to create a better life for ourselves and the people around us. The third rose represented the future, the hope that the next twelve months would bring happiness and joy into our lives.

"I'm driving to the cemetery soon," Dad told me. "When you come to San Francisco, we'll go back together."

"Thank you. I'd like that."

My dad sighed. "You don't need to thank me, Ben. The roses help me, too. Are you doing something special to celebrate your birthday?"

"I'm going hiking." I could only imagine what my dad must be thinking. For someone who never did more than walk around the lake, hiking in the mountains was pushing my comfort level to the extreme. "Don't worry. I've got a good map and all the safety gear I'll need."

"Remember to tell someone where you're going and when you'll be back. And call me when you arrive home. I don't want to spend the day worrying about you."

"I'll be back around three o'clock. If you aren't home, I'll call your cell phone." I checked my watch. "I have to go, Dad. I'll talk to you later."

"Make sure you remember to call me," Tony said sternly. "I love you, baby boy."

"Love you, too." After I said goodbye, I stared through the kitchen window. Neither of our lives had been the same since my mom died. But somehow, we'd made every day count toward something amazing. And if it weren't for the jewelry award, my life would be even better.