“Nonsense.” Charity reaches across the table to link our fingers. “You are Candy Cane, as much as anyone else here.”
I’m not sure of that anymore. I stare out the window at the pedestrians, then to the other patrons who visit the cafe for conversation and to pass the time with friends, and I question the motives behind each smile they cast in my direction.
“You moving to this town brought your grandmother so much joy.”
“She saw my mother when she looked at me.” What if Mr. Cooper is right about the house? Had my Grams used the house to keep me here as a substitute for not being able to bring my mother back home? A stabbing pain tightens my chest.
“Don’t say that. She saw you.” Charity squeezes my hand. “Really saw you. And although she didn’t see the woman you’ve become, I’d like to think that even as a teenager, she already knew you had a heart of gold.”
“Did you rehearse that?”
“Yep.” She smiles. “I saved it for the day you thought about bolting.”
I chuckle. But the feeling of not belonging worms its way deeper into my flesh like a virus. Spreading. And I think my best friend can see it because she blinks hard, her eyes glazing with unshed tears to mirror mine.
“I know what it is to feel like an outsider, Naomi.”
“I know,” I whisper. It’s my turn to clutch her hand.
“Having biracial parents didn’t make it easy to fit in. For a long time, I didn’t know who I was. Was I Black like my mother or white like my father? And the expectations of being someone great are overwhelming. Dad is an amazing father, but he didn’t understand, and mom, bless her heart, didn’t get it either. Then you came, with your own struggles, and we bonded hard.”
“Friends for life,” I say.
“For life,” she agrees, “Do you know why I love coming to your house?”
“The badass dresses I make for you?” I smirk.
“You’re the only designer for me.” She laughs, then shakes her head. “The warmth. Your house feels like coming home to fresh brownies and hot chocolate.”
And Charity’s home feels like protection.Strong arms holding me breathlessly close from all those who seek to harm me. It’s sterile and organized, unlike my chaotic lifestyle. There is warmth there too, but it’s hidden under layers of power, fierce control, and heartache. “So it’s my worn out sofa, then?” I tease.
“It’s the hugs and generosity you show each client that walks through your doors, whether or not they can afford you.”
That's where the problem lies. My generosity keeps my profits too low to save and keeps me returning year after year to the bank.
“For once, let me loan you the money. I know you’re good for it.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.” Charity comes from money. Her parents were highschool sweethearts. They met and married young, giving birth to Charity when they were barely twenty — six years younger than we are. Together, her parents built an empire. That empire has doubled in the last ten years because her father had thrown himself into work after his wife died. Investing is Nathan Dawson’s business and he would help if Charity asked.
But that’s exactly why I can’t take his money.How can I ask a man who has earned his wealth to simply give it to me on the grounds of friendship?
“As usual, you’re being stubborn and over-thinking my offer to help.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “I sent out applications to angel investors last month.” The latter is genuine enough.
“I remember.”
I can only hope the potential for growth will captivate an angel investor in Cupid, my design boutique. And their strong relationships with influential clients help with Cupid’s expansion. “I don’t know if any will bite but—”
“But you’re hoping,” Charity finishes.
I finally pick up the menu and flip the pages, not really seeing any of the dishes.
“Dad thinks an investor is a great idea,” Charity says casually, as if mentioning her father doesn’t light fireworks in my chest.
Nathan Dawson thinks my idea is good. Warmth flutters my stomach before it’s chased by the cold sweat layering across my skin. “You told your dad I’m looking for an investor?”
“Of course, dad has connections, and he’s willing to help.” Lifting her menu off the table, she frowns. “When you didn’t mention an investor again, I figured you changed your mind.”
