Chapter 4

Darla hummed cheerfully to herself as she went through her usual end of day ritual at the little Whale Harbor Museum she'd founded. In the months since the museum had opened, it had succeeded beyond Darla's wildest dreams. Not only had she found more and more regional artists who were interested in displaying their work in her little museum, but she'd recently won a grant that would help her expand her programming for local schoolchildren!

She glanced at her watch, realizing she'd gotten caught up in daydreaming about the future of the museum again. It was already growing dark outside, courtesy of winter's early nightfall, and she had to hurry if she didn't want to be eating dinner practically at bedtime. Quickly, she wrapped up her last couple of tasks, then locked the front door, feeling the same pang of excitement as she always did that she had really made this dream come true.

It"s just been such an amazing year, she thought to herself as she wound a blue knit scarf around her neck, pulled on her gloves and hat, and buttoned her coat up snugly. And this next year is already looking better.

Some lucky star really had been shining on Darla's nearest and dearest in the past few months. Not only had she gotten married to the most wonderful man she knew, but she'd reconnected with her old mentor, Camilla, and seen her museum become a success. Marty had also gotten married, as had Monica, who had also opened her BB. Charity had found love too.

I wonder what's next, she thought, then grinned to herself as her mind immediately jumped to wondering if any of her newly married friends would have babies soon. She sounded just like her mother.

As she headed toward her car, head ducked against the cold, she felt her phone begin to ring in her pocket. She waited until she was in the car where the brutal winds couldn't touch her before pulling off her gloves so she could answer. When she saw who was calling, she frowned at the screen.

"Marty?" she asked, confusion coloring her tone. "Why are you calling me from your honeymoon?"

There was a pause. When her sister's voice came through, it sounded scratchy and congested. "Well. Funny thing about that…"

"Oh no!" Darla felt a bolt of dismay shoot through her. "Don't tell me you're sick!"

"Sure am," Marty confirmed, and Darla's heart sank in sympathy. "We got here, got all checked into our hotel, and then bam! I got knocked on my behind."

"Oh no, sweetie. That's just the worst luck!" Darla switched her phone to its handsfree setting and began pulling out of the museum's parking lot. "Is Wyatt taking care of you or is he sick too?"

"He's got it even worse than I do," Marty said, now sounding sympathetic herself. "He's asleep right now. Turns out the cold medicines here are a little different than they are at home, and it knocked him right out, poor guy."

The couple had traveled to Costa Rica for their honeymoon so they could enjoy some warm weather despite their winter wedding. Darla hated to think of their wonderful tropical vacation being turned into a high-stakes adventure of trying to read cold medicine labels in Spanish.

Getting sick away from home was terrible, and doing so in a foreign country was even more complicated, as products and popular remedies varied between locations. Darla had gotten sick during her college study abroad in Italy, where she'd studied that country's art, and she did not consider that a fond memory. It wasn't that people hadn't been kind to her because they had been. But her vocabulary to describe symptoms in a foreign language wasn't very robust, and all she'd wanted was to be home in her bed, with someone she loved bringing her soup.

"Oh man, sis," she said, turning off the main Whale Harbor thoroughfare and into the sleepy neighborhood area where she and Rick lived. "That's the worst! You didn't get to do anything fun at all?"

"Not really," Marty replied. She paused and from the other end of the line, Darla heard her sister sneeze about five times in a row. "Sorry, I'm back. We sort of poked around the hotel a little when we first arrived, but we were so tired that we decided to save our exploring for the next day. Except as it turned out, we weren't just tired from traveling, and by the time we woke up, it was sneeze city over here."

"This is terrible!" Darla felt so disappointed for her sister. "I wish there was something I could do."

"It's okay," Marty said, although Darla was pretty sure her little sister was trying to put on a brave face about what had to be a pretty significant letdown. "At least we're getting to spend quality time together, right? Isn't that what a honeymoon is really about?"

"I don't know that I'd have as good an attitude about this in your shoes," Darla confessed. She understood trying to keep one's spirits up, but she wanted Marty to know that she had a safe place to express her negative feelings too.

Marty blew out a sigh. "Yeah, it's a pretty big bummer, but I figure I won't feel any better by getting mad about it, so I'm trying to stay positive. At least Wyatt looks cute when he sleeps."

"Yeah," Darla joked back, turning into her driveway. "You can brush his hair back from his forehead and pretend you're in one of those dramatic period movies, nursing your man back to health after he… caught some old-timey disease. I don't know. But imagine something romantic with really good background music."

Marty's laugh was genuine at that. "Maybe don't quit your day job to become a script writer, huh?" she teased.

"Yeah, maybe not," Darla agreed.

"Anyway," Marty said. "I'm wiped. I'm going to go rest for a while. Oh, who am I kidding? Once I lie down, I'll be out like a light for the whole night. Maybe if I'm lucky, Wyatt and I will both feel better in the morning and we can salvage some of the trip." Marty didn't sound optimistic about this prospect, and from the thick, congested tone to her sister's voice, Darla also suspected that the couple would still be under the weather come the next day.

"Ugh, sorry again, sweetie," Darla said. "Tell Wyatt I said feel better and call me if you think if anything I can help with from here, okay?"

Marty promised to do so, voice already drooping with fatigue. The sisters got off the phone and Darla headed inside, a frown on her face as she thought about Marty's unfortunate predicament. Ooh, she hated when something was wrong and she didn't have the power to fix it! Then, despite the challenging situation, she smiled again to herself. This was another way that she sounded just like Lori.

She was still feeling this disappointment when Rick came home a little while later.

"Hey, Dar—wait, what's wrong?" her husband asked, concern creasing his face as he approached her. She crossed to him, melting into his warm embrace, then looking up at his handsome face. "Is everything okay? Tough day at work?"

They had been married for a few months now, and living together for even longer, but Darla was certain she'd never get tired of coming home to him at the end of the day. Today, his wavy blond hair was tucked under a fisherman's cap, to ward off the winter chill, and his honey brown eyes were peering down at her, shining with worry.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "And the museum was great, as always. I just heard from Marty though."

She explained the contents of their conversation as the two of them moved in their usual pattern, pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry. They didn't get to cook dinner together every day, since their work schedules sometimes varied, but they tried to join up for dinner prep as often as they could, and managed it a couple times a week, at least. The quiet domesticity of things appealed to something essential in her. It was a life she never would have imagined for herself, back when she'd lived the hustle and bustle life of a New York City artist, but now that she had it, she didn't ever want to live any other way.

"Oh man, that's terrible!" Rick exclaimed, pulling a filet of cod from the fridge that he'd brought home the day before. Whale watching was out of season in January, but her husband got enough tourists who were brave enough to face the cold to want to take some wintertime tours out on the water. Darla couldn't imagine wanting to spend time out on the choppy gray Atlantic at this time of year, but lucky for her husband's business, not everyone agreed.

And if that meant Rick sometimes brought home fresh fish from the docks, who was she to complain?

"I know," Darla agreed, rinsing some vegetables for a salad. "I wonder if we can do something nice for them when they get back. It won't make up for missing their whole honeymoon, of course, but a little pick-me-up wouldn't go amiss."

She turned off the water just a moment before her husband's strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. "You," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair, "are a very nice person."

She spun in his arms until they were hugging properly. "You're pretty great too."

They lingered in their comfortable hug for a moment until the oil on the stove hissed its readiness for the fish. Each of them turned back to their task of preparation.

"Hey," Rick said after a few minutes where they moved with practiced ease through their shared kitchen, "I saw Dominic with Milo and the kids down by the docks today, going for a walk, and it got me thinking."

"Oh yeah?" She knew that "the kids" referred to Lucas and Addie, Charity's son and Dominic's daughter, who were becoming an increasingly attached pair now that their parents were dating. Milo was their dog, who technically belonged to Dominic and Addie, but who Addie and Lucas—who considered themselves basically brother and sister—called "their" dog.

"Yeah." Rick expertly flipped the fish in the pan, which gave a satisfying sizzle as it landed on the hot surface. "What do you think about us getting a pet?"

She didn't even need a second to think through her answer. "I'd love that!"

"Really?" Grinning, her husband looked over his shoulder at her.

"Absolutely! It's a great time for us, and I love animals. I've always been the tiniest bit jealous that Marty has her little menagerie." Darla held her fingers super close together and gave a teasing wince to show that she was just playing around.

"I was thinking the same!" he exclaimed. "Well, about the timing. I'm not sure I'd want four cats right off the bat."

"No, no, me neither," Darla agreed, laughing. While her sister's cats were all sweet and cuddly, they also got into so much trouble that one of them was actually named Trouble. Not that Trouble alone could take credit for all the feline mischief that happened at Marty and Wyatt's house. Bertram, Macy, and Peaches, the couples' other cats, also caused plenty of chaos.

She returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. "Did you think you wanted a cat, though?" she asked her husband. "Because you mentioned seeing Milo, so I thought maybe you were more interested in a dog."

Rick added some spices to the cooking fish before answering. "You know, I could go with either, I think."

"There's definitely pros and cons to each animal," Darla agreed. "Cats require less work, but they can also be less friendly and attached to their owners."

"Don't let Peaches hear you say that!" he joked. Peaches clearly loved Marty to pieces and accompanied her to work almost every day.

She raised her hands in an innocent gesture. "Sorry, Peaches!" she called as if the cat could hear her. Rick chuckled at her antics.

"I think whatever animal we decide to get," he said when he was done laughing, "I'd like to get a rescue. I know that gives you a little less control over the breed you end up with, but I like that Dominic and Charity get to know that they made life a little better for Milo."

"A lot better, I would say. The poor thing was living outside before they found him!"

If poor Milo had had humble beginnings, however, he now enjoyed as much playtime as even the most exuberant puppy could handle, courtesy of two kids who themselves were brimming with energy.

"True," Rick agreed. "I think it's nice to know you helped out an animal who might not have had a happy home otherwise."

"I absolutely agree." Darla reached down for two plates and began rummaging for utensils to set the table. "So, cat or dog?"

"I don't know! I can picture going on walks with a cute little puppy… but I can also envision having a cuddly kitten curled up in my lap. Ugh!" He threw up his hands in mock frustration. "It's too hard to choose!"

"Yeah," she agreed. "They're just too cute."

"This is how Marty ended up with so many cats," he teased. "Suddenly I'm warming up to her point of view."

She laughed. "Okay, so we've decided on two things. We're getting a pet, and we're getting that pet from the shelter."

"Let's sleep on the decision of what kind of animal we're getting," he suggested as he plated up the fish, which was coated in warm spices and perfectly flaky. "Although a cat would be more likely to try to steal this dinner from our plates!"

"We'll put that on our pro-con list." She laughed as the two sat down to eat their dinner.

Claire rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck from side to side, forcing her eyes to glance away from the computer screen in her home office for a few minutes. A year or so prior, she'd discovered that doing so once every hour helped prevent the headaches that came from staring at endless lines of numbers on spreadsheets all day.

She worked remotely as a virtual data entry assistant who specialized in bookkeeping. Her list of clients was mostly midsize businesses who were too big to manage all their own paperwork themselves but too small to have a dedicated, in-house bookkeeper. That was where Claire came in. Her clients would send her all their relevant information, like payroll, expense reports, targeted budgets, and she would assemble them into more comprehensive financial reports and input everything into a bookkeeping software, which her clients could access at any time.

It was a great job for someone with her condition because her work needed to get done by certain deadlines, not within specific hours of the day or even days of the week. So that meant that if she was having a rough day, health-wise, on a Tuesday, she could take some time to recuperate and make up the hours on a weekend or in an evening when she had more energy. She found the work interesting too, as it appealed to the part of her that had always enjoyed organizing things and making neatness out of mess.

It wasn't her dream job, maybe, but it was still pretty good, and suited her well.

She'd worked in this field for nearly a decade now, and she'd managed to earn enough money to buy the little house. She'd turned the second bedroom of the little brick house into a home office, and over the years she'd refined the room to make it as comfortable as possible for someone with a chronic illness that often left her achy and tired. Her desk chair, for example, had been astronomically expensive, but it was so divinely comfortable and had such excellent back support that Claire felt it was worth every penny.

"Okay," she said, shaking out her hands and wrists. "What's next on the docket… ?"

She pulled up the software she used to track her upcoming deadlines.

There was only one real problem, in Claire's opinion, with her job. Working from home had made her a bit more reclusive than she would have liked, and lately she'd started fretting that she'd lost touch not only with some of her old friends, but with the outside world, a little.

She tried not to be too hard on herself, since she knew that an important part of managing a long-term illness was recognizing that she needed more rest than other people, without assigning any shame to that idea. She wasn't "lazy" or "unmotivated" or any of the things some of her teachers had suggested before her diagnosis—much to Hudson's anger, as he'd refused to hear a single negative thing spoken about his daughter, who was clearly suffering from some unknown aliment. Having lupus wasn't something that was anyone's "fault," it was just something that had happened. Claire had learned to roll with the punches, so to speak.

But she did wish she was a little more adventurous when it came to voyaging out into the broader world, making friends and sustaining old relationships.

Maybe now is the time, she thought as she browsed through her work to-do list, which was mostly clear. Work is going smoothly, I have my symptoms under control. Why shouldn't I put myself out there more? Maybe even try dating.

It wasn't that Claire had never dated, of course. It was merely that when her life got hectic, her romantic life was the first thing to go. But the idea of a new adventure was appealing, whether a new love or otherwise.

As she was thinking about this, her phone rang on her desk. She smiled when she saw her Aunt Sylvia was calling. Her late mother's sister had always been a steady presence in Claire's life, and had made sure that Claire knew she had an older woman figure to turn to after Claire had lost her mother, although Aunt Sylvia had always been clear that she would never try to replace her sister, not that she could have managed it if she'd wanted to. Sylvia and Claire's relationship had nevertheless been similar to a mother-daughter connection, especially since Sylvia and her husband Alan had no children of their own.

"Aunt Sylvia!" Claire cried as she answered the phone. "Hi! How have you been?"

"Hi, Claire Bear." Her aunt's voice was as warm and familiar as the childhood nickname. "I'm good, very good, actually. How about you?"

Claire gave a brief report of how things had been since she'd spoken to her aunt a few weeks prior.

"Wonderful," Aunt Sylvia said. "I'm calling for a specific reason, as it happens. I'm going to be in Whale Harbor this afternoon—in about an hour, in fact. Is there any chance my favorite niece is free for a late lunch or a cup of coffee?"

Claire was surprised but pleased. Her aunt lived a few hours away and she and Uncle Alan ran a small business that kept them busy. Usually, when they met up, Claire went to visit them, since her remote work meant she could keep a flexible schedule.

"Of course I'm free for you!" Claire exclaimed. They arranged to meet at The Blue Crab, a seafood restaurant in town, then hung up the phone. Claire hurried to get dressed in something a little nicer than the comfortable clothes she wore to work at home. The Blue Crab was too fancy for her to show up in leggings and an over-sized sweater, but the royal blue sweater dress and textured tights she donned were just the right level of formal for a winter lunch date with her aunt. She completed her look with a ballerina bun, a pair of gold hoop earrings, and a quick swipe of mascara.

When she arrived at The Blue Crab, Claire saw her aunt's car in the parking lot. An excited smile began to creep over her face just seeing the banged up old vehicle, in which Claire and Aunt Sylvia had made many trips to the drive-in theater in Sylvia's town. Her smile grew far wider, however, when she entered the restaurant and spotted Sylvia, who immediately stood and opened her arms wide in a welcoming embrace.

Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Alan ran a home goods store in their little town in New Hampshire that tended toward the eclectic, and Aunt Sylvia's personal style matched her profession perfectly. For lunch today, she was wearing an enormous scarf in a loose-knit weave that was white but interspersed with little threads of different colors here and there. Her once-auburn curls, now more gray than red, were pinned atop her head with a giant claw clip, and she wore seven mismatched bracelets on one arm, which clinked together happily as the woman wrapped Claire in the warmest, most loving hug.

"Hi there, Claire Bear," her aunt said, putting her hands on Claire's shoulders and holding her back so she could get a good look at her. "You look adorable as always!"

"Thanks." Claire grinned. "I love your bracelets."

Aunt Sylvia jangled them merrily. "Aren't they wonderful? I got them from a metalsmith in Montpellier. He's about a hundred years old and as crotchety as they come, but he makes these elegant, beautiful pieces of jewelry. As soon as I saw them, I just knew I had to have them for the store."

They chatted for a bit, catching up on things. Claire told her aunt a bit about how things were going in her life, and Aunt Sylvia updated Claire on her many, many dogs—including pictures of each and every pup. They snatched bites of their delicious lunches in between conversing. Claire, feeling that there was nothing better than a warm bowl of soup on a cold day, had gotten the New England clam chowder, while Aunt Sylvia had gotten a salad with seared tuna on top.

As they were wrapping up eating, Aunt Sylvia patted her mouth with her napkin and laid it aside, giving Claire a serious look.

"There was actually a reason I wanted to come see you today beyond just catching up," her aunt confessed.

Claire felt a pang of worry go through her. This must have shown on her face, because her aunt held up a hand.

"No, no," she clarified. "It's nothing bad. The opposite, actually."

"Okay," Claire said, a bit confused.

"But before I get to it," Aunt Sylvia went on, "I just want to say that I am so proud of you. You got dealt a lot of tough hands in your life, what with losing your mom so young and learning to manage your lupus, but you've handled it all with such grace. I admire that. I admire you."

Claire felt tears prickle in the back of her eyes. "That means a lot, Aunt Sylvia, but I really haven't accomplished that much—"

"Nonsense," her aunt interrupted firmly. "You've done a lot and you should be proud of it. I won't hear another word on the contrary, not about this."

Claire pursed her lips against a smile. "Okay," she agreed.

"Good." Aunt Sylvia was smiling too. "Now. My real reason for coming out here today. Do you remember how it's impossible to get cell phone service out by the store?"

Claire blinked, surprised by this sudden shift in topic. She did, however, know about the cell phone service dead zone near her aunt and uncle's business. It was something that had led to some anxious moments for Hudson when he couldn't reach Claire while she was visiting Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Alan. Her father had since learned to loosen up when it came to Claire not answering her phone right away, but in the years immediately after her diagnosis, he'd struggled with not panicking whenever he couldn't get in touch with her immediately.

"Of course," Claire answered.

"Well." Aunt Sylvia's smile said she was having a bit of fun with drawing out the drama of this moment. "You can get really good service there now. One of those cell phone companies came around recently and asked if they couldn't put a signal amplifier on the roof of the shop."

"That's… great?" Claire said, still confused.

"It is great," Aunt Sylvia agreed. "Because it doesn't affect us one whit and that company is paying us a heck of a rent to keep their little device up there."

"Oh!" Claire was starting to put the pieces together now. "That's amazing!"

Her aunt reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. "It's a kind of amazing that I wanted to share with you." She slid the paper across the table to Claire.

Claire picked it up, unfolded it, read it.

Her jaw dropped open in shock.

"Aunt Sylvia!" she protested, trying to hand back the paper, which had turned out to be a check. "I can't take this!"

"You can and you will," Aunt Sylvia retorted, crossing her arms to show that she wasn't taking anything back.

"But…" Claire lowered her voice, feeling strangely like she shouldn't even say it out loud. "This check is for seventy thousand dollars."

"Claire Bear," her aunt said gently, regarding her with a fond smile. "You are the joy of my life. Having kids wasn't in the cards for your uncle and me, but even if we had, I couldn't imagine loving them any more than I love you, sweetie. Let us share this good fortune with you, okay?"

"But—but…" Claire couldn't stop stammering.

"Honey," Aunt Sylvia continued. "Alan and me, we're set. We've got our business and our dogs. We're not ready to retire yet, but we've got some savings for when we do. And those cell phone people were not good negotiators. They offered us a big chunk of money right off the bat." She reached out and squeezed the hand of Claire's that wasn't holding the check. "Let me do what I want with my windfall, okay? And what I want is to give you the freedom to do what you want. Understand?"

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?" Claire asked, shaking her head a bit ruefully.

"You can't," Aunt Sylvia said smugly.

Claire tucked the slip of paper into her purse, feeling as though she were hiding some kind of precious document in a spy movie, given how significant that little rectangle of paper seemed. Then, she stood and wrapped her aunt in a big hug.

"Thank you," she said. "I should have led with that. This is an incredibly generous gift. And more than that, the even greater gift is the support you've given me my whole life, which doesn't have a dollar value on it."

"Thank you for being the best niece an aunt could ask for," Aunt Sylvia returned, pressing a kiss to the side of Claire's head. "Now, what do you say we order some dessert?"

"Only if you let it be my treat," Claire teased.

The two women split a piece of chocolate cake that was so decadent that they practically groaned with each bite. They finished eating and said their goodbyes; Aunt Sylvia was fitting in some scouting trips to see various artisans on her way back home, to see if they had any goods they'd be interested in stocking in her store, and she needed to hit the road if she wanted to get home before it got too late.

"Love you, Claire Bear," she said, giving her niece one last hug as they parted at The Blue Crab's front door.

"Love you too, Aunt Sylvia," Claire said, squeezing tight.

They had parked on opposite sides of the long parking lot that The Blue Crab shared with a few other nearby businesses, so they headed in opposite directions. Claire's head was so busy buzzing with the ways that this incredibly generous gift from her aunt could change her life that she didn't notice a patch of black ice until it was too late.

She felt the stomach-flipping feeling as her feet went out from under her and tried not to tense up too much as she prepared to hit the ground, knowing from experience that it would only make the impact worse.

Instead of smacking onto cold, wet concrete, however, she felt two strong bands wrap around her upper arms. Suddenly she was on her feet again. She blinked in surprise and realized that the bands were hands.

"Whoa, there," came an unfamiliar voice. "Are you okay?"

Claire took a moment to make sure her feet were well and truly secure on the ground before turning to answer…

And then she found herself lost for words, because her rescuer was a very handsome stranger. He was tall, with nut brown hair and honey-colored eyes. Even through his winter coat and the scarf wrapped snug around his neck, Claire could see that he looked as strong as he'd felt when he was saving her.

"Oh, um, yes!" she said, finding her voice again. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem at all." The stranger smiled and, goodness gracious, he had dimples. "That black ice will sneak up on you."

Claire smiled too, a little shyly. Part of her felt a bit silly for being flustered, but her dating history was pretty thin, and this scene felt like something out of one of her favorite novels. She tried to shake herself back to reality. Life was very different from fiction, even if she was having kind of a storybook day.

"I should know better than to let it get the better of me though," she admitted. "I'm a local." She stuck out her hand. "Claire Boone."

The handsome stranger reached out his own hand, gloved like hers, to accept the shake. "Liam Hiller. Not a local, although in a town like this, you probably already knew that."

"True." She laughed. "Everybody knows everybody in Whale Harbor. And it isn't tourist season, so be prepared for everyone getting really excited over seeing a new face."

He laughed too. "I'll keep that in mind." A gust of cold wind blew, and Claire shivered. Liam noticed. "Well, it's pretty chilly out here, so I'll let you get going. It was nice to meet you, Claire."

"You too," she said, before heading toward her car. She couldn't resist, however, shooting one glance over her shoulder as she went. Liam's shoulders were as broad and muscular as the rest of him.

As she got into her car, Claire let out a dreamy little sigh. What a day! Handsome strangers, a surprise visit from her aunt, and a huge windfall. Her mind reeled with how different today had been from her regular life.

One of those things would change her future though, she reminded herself as she headed home, and it wasn't honey eyes and charming dimples. She had been thinking about making a change, and this check now offered her the means to do so. All she had to do was decide what move to make next…