The Rossi’s were always open about her adoption; it never bothered Sophia—until they were gone. While they were alive, they did everything to fill her life with all the love and support parents do. Perhaps, now that they’re gone, it was a void Sophia subconsciously wanted filled; however, how did she know if the woman from the phone call was capable of filling that void?

Sophia wasn’t completely without friends. She’d met an acquaintance—repeatedly—at different venues. Although admittedly, Marie was slightly eccentric, Sophia found her presence comforting. There was something familiar about the woman that Sophia couldn’t pin-point. With time, when at gallery openings or invitation only showings, Sophia found herself scanning the crowd for the older woman’s face. With so many changes, Marie seemed to be a reoccurring constant; therefore, when Marie invited Sophia to lunch at the Atlas on Iowa Ave, near the University of Iowa’s campus, Sophia gladly accepted. She decided that it was nice to have someone to talk with—someone with similar interests.

“Can you believe how cold that wind is today?” Marie’s voice pulled Sophia from her internal thoughts.

Smiling, Sophia shook her head. “No! I know we didn’t live out in California for very long, but I miss the climate out there. I liked the more constant temperature.”

Marie laughed. “Oh, my dear, this is just the beginning; wait until the snow really starts to fly.”

After settling at a table, they chatted about nothing in particular. It was nice to forget the wind outside, the move to a new state, and just talk. Marie’s gray eyes gave Sophia a sense of warmth she didn’t understand. As an artist, she often dissected people’s faces without realizing she was doing it. Sophia saw sadness and loss in Marie’s eyes; however, there was also a spark of excitement that tugged at her like a magnet. When Marie would suggest a new exhibit or a museum, the ideas seemed extraordinarily inviting. In some ways, it was like a mirror at a circus. Marie’s eyes reminded her of her own—yet they were different—complicated—multi-tasking. Sophia couldn’t put her finger on it...nevertheless, she was drawn, like a moth to a flame.

“Did you enjoy your trip out East for Thanksgiving?”

Sophia nodded. “We did. It was short, but it was nice to see my in-laws.”

“Since you visited your husband’s parents for Thanksgiving, will you be traveling to your parents for Christmas?”

Sophia looked down. “No.”

Reassuringly, Marie’s hand covered Sophia’s. “I’m sorry, did I say something upsetting?”

“It’s all right. It’s just that...my parents are no longer with us.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry. I won’t pry.”

Forcing a smile, Sophia sat straighter. “Really, it’s all right. I’ve—had wonderful parents, but t—they’ve only recently passed away, late last summer. It was a car accident.”

Marie shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, my in-laws have been wonderful. It just takes...time.”

“Now, your husband—Derek—is that his name?”

Sophia nodded.

“Does he have siblings?”

Sophia went on to describe Derek’s family—he’s an only child—his parents were very anxious for them to add a branch or two to the family tree.

“How do you feel about that?” Marie asked.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sophia said, “We’ve been talking.”

Marie grinned. “I’m sure you know—that’s not how it happens.”

Sophia’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, I believe my mother gave me that talk, when I was quite young.”

After lunch, they walked through some of the college shops before parting for the afternoon. Later, when Sophia told Derek about her day, she wouldn’t remember the exact words of their conversation only that it flowed without effort.

With all Derek had happening with his new responsibilities, Sophia knew that he was pleased that she was getting out of the house and meeting people.

As the sun set below the horizon, and the lingering shadows cast their last shades of what might have been onto the isolated beach, a hand fell to Claire’s shoulder.

At first, she hesitated, unsure if the connection was real or imagined. When she could no longer decipher, Claire turned to see the face—the eyes—the man for whom she’d prayed.

Claire’s resolve melted with his touch. The sobs she’d been suppressing erupted as Tony pulled her up to his embrace.