Six weeks later the Christmas holidays were over and even New Year’s was a distant memory. A fresh snowfall lay deep on the ground, and the world outdoors was white and pristine.

Kira sat in her parent’s kitchen, holding the ruby necklace in the palm of her hand after helping her mother bake bread, one of her father’s favorite treats in the middle of winter.

Caleb was in Spain meeting with new distributors. He texted her several times a day and they spoke each late afternoon before the dinner rush at Rossi’s began, but just before midnight in Barcelona.

Their text conversations—and real conversations—were the highlight of each day. He was funny and charming and some sort of gift showed up via UPS on her doorstep each day. Flowers. Spanish chocolates. A small painting of a garden with hibiscus and orchids that fit perfectly on the wall of her living room.

Notes and cards and messages with messages of, I’m dying to kiss you.

Each message, each gift, each time she heard his voice on the phone, her stomach jumped into her throat.

Her mother puttered around the kitchen, attempting to fix scrambled eggs and searching for the grated cheese.

“I’ll finish up,” Kira told her, setting down her phone after scrolling through a few pictures of the famous Gaudi Cathedral and gardens Caleb had sent her. Accompanying the pictures were the words: I can’t wait to take you on a trip to Europe and show you everything. I hate traveling alone.

Europe. DREAMS. Dreams. Could they really be coming true?

“My mother’s necklace!” her mother said, appearing at Kira’s shoulder and spotting the necklace lying in her palm. It was the first time she’d brought it over to show her parents. “You found it. I always knew you’d just misplaced it. I probably shouldn’t have given a teenager such a valuable heirloom.”

“Maybe not, but this necklace is changing my life,” Kira said with a sudden laugh as she clasped it around her neck. “Mom, why don’t you sit with dad while I finish cooking the breakfast eggs?”

Kira rummaged through the refrigerator and found the cheese, sprinkled it on the eggs, scooped them up on two plates to take to her parents who were watching the morning news.

Pausing, Kira touched the ruby gemstone with her fingertips. She used to do exactly this when she was sitting in class taking a test. As if her grandmother would whisper the right answers into her ear when she got stuck on a problem.

When she laid the plates on her mom’s TV tray, and the tray at her father’s chair, he glanced up at her, turning down the volume. “You look happy, Kira-girl.”

“I guess I am, Dad. More than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Hope does that.”

“Dreams do, too.”

Her father took her hands and held them in his. “These hands have dreams. I always loved hearing you play. It astounded me to have a daughter who was so talented.”

“Talent still needs a boatload of practice.”

“It’s never too late, sweetheart,” her father said.

“That’s something I still need to find out.”

“Will you play a little Brahms while I eat?” Her father nodded toward the old upright she’d grown up practicing.

He gave her a wink and Kira finally relented. “Okay, just for you.”

The old piano was a little out of tune, but the familiar touch came right back to her when Kira ran her fingers up and down a few scales to warm up. After playing at Caleb’s house, she wasn’t nearly as rusty as she thought she might be.

Perhaps the piano was like riding a bike. At least a little bit. She was still woefully behind where she’d been two years ago, but perhaps with some hard work she could get it back faster than she’d lost it.

Her old music books were in a basket on the floor. Kira picked out a couple of soothing pieces to play for her parents.

When she finally rose from the piano bench, her mother un-muted the sound on the television, looking distracted and distant. She began switching channels from news of protests on the street to cooking channels and old-time movies, then sports, and finally a soap opera channel that showed reruns of all things.

“The Guiding Light is still on?” Kira asked with amusement.

Her mother began to relate the story-line from twenty years ago, as if she’d just watched it yesterday. Her mom used to watch the show during the summer when she wasn’t working, while Kira and her brothers were outside building a fort or riding bikes.

Except that this neighborhood wasn’t the one she’d grown up in. And the current backyard was no bigger than a postage stamp. At least her father had windowsills full of his manicured bonsai trees.

“Hey, Dad,” Kira said, putting her hand on his shoulder after her mother had finished expounding the ancient plotline. “Everything okay?” she asked. The doctors said there wasn’t much they could do for dementia except learn how to manage it and join a support group.

“We’ll survive,” her father said quietly.

The future still worried Kira. How could she move on with her own life when things could go badly for her mother and her father needed so much help with his daily care? She was in a strange state of limbo.

“Kira, I’m the one who vowed to love and care for Claire when we got married. We will manage. You get on with your life, or I will never forgive you.”

“Hey, those are strong words!” Kira said with a laugh.

Her father tugged her closer, meeting her eyes as she kneeled on the floor in front of his wheelchair. “I’m dead serious. You’ve changed over the last couple of months, but I’m not sure why.”

“I’m thinking of taking up my music again. I’m lost without it. Not completely whole. Does that make any sense?”

“Makes complete sense and I’m glad to hear it, but there’s something else. I’m still your good old dad even if I can’t get around very well any longer. My brain still functions just fine.”

“You always cut through the peripheral stuff, don’t you?”

He sat patiently, waiting for her to spill it.

Kira sucked in a breath. “I think I may have met someone who has the potential to change my life. In fact, he already has. It was through him that I got grandmother’s necklace back.”

Her father’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Now that’s intriguing. I suspect his name might be Caleb Davenport?”

“Yes,” she replied, a blush heating up her face. “He’s kind and generous—and utterly handsome.”

“I was glad to meet him over the holidays. Your brothers seemed to approve of him, too.”

“Hey, he loved Mom’s turkey and pumpkin pie, but Carl sure grilled him when he invited him for a “drive” around the block.”

“That’s what older brothers do best.”

“He’s a good man,” Kira added quietly.

“Does he have a job?” Dad asked.

“Ha! You know perfectly well he runs his own company. And it’s pretty successful, too.”

Her father’s eyes twinkled as he watched her from across the living room. “As long as you have a roof over your head and someone who truly loves you, I’ll be happy.”

“Ironically, the necklace brought us together. I think he’s loved me for a long time, but we had no way into each other’s world before now.” Kira got up to kiss her father on the cheek before returning to her apartment, and most likely a very hungry Miss Pixie.

“Timing can often be everything, Kira-girl,” he said.

Not sixty seconds later, the doorbell rang and a special delivery service delivered a crisp, gold invitation with the name Kira Bancroft on the front of the envelope.