child. After several dances with different friends, Olivia carried a glass of white wine to the stone terrace overlooking the festivities and she stood watching the party. Brad was dancing with a shapely redhead who was wearing a tight mini skirt. His face was flushed from beer and dance and he was smiling and laughing with his partner. Olivia smiled watching him. A tingle jumped through her body. She realized that she wanted to be the one that Brad was smiling at and, for only a moment, her feelings surprised her. The song ended and the redhead said something to Brad and then headed toward the drinks table.
Earlier in the evening, Alejandro had brought his grandmother out to watch the festivities, and the elderly Mrs. Callas sat in a wheelchair off to the side of the dancers, smiling and slightly moving her upper body to the rhythms of the beat. Brad spotted Mrs. Callas and headed over to her. He bent down and hugged her and she reached up and touched Brad’s cheek, her face beaming. Brad knelt beside her as the music started up again and they placed their heads close together so they could chat. Olivia had no idea what they were saying, but the elderly woman was clearly enjoying it.
Alejandro came back to wheel his grandmother into the house, and Brad hugged her sweetly before she left, his eyes happy, crinkled with kindness. The redhead returned and pulled Brad back to the dance floor.
“Hey,” a soft voice spoke from Olivia’s right side. She turned to see Esme Callas next to her.
“Esme…hi.” Olivia smiled. Esme was petite and shapely with long beautiful legs. Her hair was nearly black, with soft waves falling below her shoulders. Her olive skin was perpetually lightly tanned and her yellow linen dress showed off her coloring to advantage. Even when Olivia was young, she thought that Esme was like a creature from another planet who moved through the world with elegance and grace. Esme was the one that all the girls wanted to be and all of the guys wanted to be with. Because of the age difference, Olivia and Esme were never friends, but Esme was always friendly and sweet whenever their paths crossed.
“Who are you watching?” Esme asked.
“Everyone,” Olivia answered.
Esme tilted her head. “See anyone you like?”
Olivia laughed.
“Hmm…” Esme said. “I think so.” She held Olivia’s eyes. Her gaze was kind. “I see how you look at Brad.”
Olivia flustered. “Brad?” she chuckled. “He’s my friend.”
“More than a friend, I think.” Esme’s voice was like water.
Olivia turned away to look out at the dancers so that Esme wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. “Brad and I have always been friends. Anyway, I’m not his type.”
Esme watched Brad dancing with the redhead.
“That girl isn’t his type,” she said. “But you are.”
Olivia sighed and shook her head. Esme leaned on the granite rail of the terrace. “Tell him how you feel,” Esme said. Olivia kept her attention on the dancers.
“No,” she whispered. “If I said something and he didn’t…well…” Her voice trailed off.
“Olivia,” Esme spoke. Olivia was about to protest but she saw that Esme’s face had become serious.
“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Esme said softly.
“Thank you, Esme.”
“You’re doing okay?”
Olivia nodded.
“Grief takes its time,” Esme said. “Sometimes it feels like it will never let go.” Olivia blinked. When Esme was ten, she lost her mom to a sudden heart attack. “But its grip loosens eventually.” Esme’s voice was soft and kind.
Olivia wondered how long she would feel the hard, cold grip of grief around her heart.
“My brother told me you’re working on opening Aggie’s shop.”
“I’m going to open it limited hours this summer. I didn’t realize it would be so much work to get things organized. Not just the shop. The paperwork to settle the estate, get the house transferred into my name. There’s a lot to do,” Olivia told her.
“I’d
Earlier in the evening, Alejandro had brought his grandmother out to watch the festivities, and the elderly Mrs. Callas sat in a wheelchair off to the side of the dancers, smiling and slightly moving her upper body to the rhythms of the beat. Brad spotted Mrs. Callas and headed over to her. He bent down and hugged her and she reached up and touched Brad’s cheek, her face beaming. Brad knelt beside her as the music started up again and they placed their heads close together so they could chat. Olivia had no idea what they were saying, but the elderly woman was clearly enjoying it.
Alejandro came back to wheel his grandmother into the house, and Brad hugged her sweetly before she left, his eyes happy, crinkled with kindness. The redhead returned and pulled Brad back to the dance floor.
“Hey,” a soft voice spoke from Olivia’s right side. She turned to see Esme Callas next to her.
“Esme…hi.” Olivia smiled. Esme was petite and shapely with long beautiful legs. Her hair was nearly black, with soft waves falling below her shoulders. Her olive skin was perpetually lightly tanned and her yellow linen dress showed off her coloring to advantage. Even when Olivia was young, she thought that Esme was like a creature from another planet who moved through the world with elegance and grace. Esme was the one that all the girls wanted to be and all of the guys wanted to be with. Because of the age difference, Olivia and Esme were never friends, but Esme was always friendly and sweet whenever their paths crossed.
“Who are you watching?” Esme asked.
“Everyone,” Olivia answered.
Esme tilted her head. “See anyone you like?”
Olivia laughed.
“Hmm…” Esme said. “I think so.” She held Olivia’s eyes. Her gaze was kind. “I see how you look at Brad.”
Olivia flustered. “Brad?” she chuckled. “He’s my friend.”
“More than a friend, I think.” Esme’s voice was like water.
Olivia turned away to look out at the dancers so that Esme wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. “Brad and I have always been friends. Anyway, I’m not his type.”
Esme watched Brad dancing with the redhead.
“That girl isn’t his type,” she said. “But you are.”
Olivia sighed and shook her head. Esme leaned on the granite rail of the terrace. “Tell him how you feel,” Esme said. Olivia kept her attention on the dancers.
“No,” she whispered. “If I said something and he didn’t…well…” Her voice trailed off.
“Olivia,” Esme spoke. Olivia was about to protest but she saw that Esme’s face had become serious.
“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Esme said softly.
“Thank you, Esme.”
“You’re doing okay?”
Olivia nodded.
“Grief takes its time,” Esme said. “Sometimes it feels like it will never let go.” Olivia blinked. When Esme was ten, she lost her mom to a sudden heart attack. “But its grip loosens eventually.” Esme’s voice was soft and kind.
Olivia wondered how long she would feel the hard, cold grip of grief around her heart.
“My brother told me you’re working on opening Aggie’s shop.”
“I’m going to open it limited hours this summer. I didn’t realize it would be so much work to get things organized. Not just the shop. The paperwork to settle the estate, get the house transferred into my name. There’s a lot to do,” Olivia told her.
“I’d
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