Chapter 9 - Two Little Stars
The afternoon sun was now blazing in full glory across the courtyard, bathing the limestone pillars in warm, honeyed light.
Under the pavilion, the silence of the abandoned party had been completely obliterated.
Sky had managed to scramble completely onto the seat of the motorized wheelchair, wedging her small frame right beside Nova. Nova’s arm was thrown over Sky’s faded denim jacket, holding the younger girl securely, while Sky used a plastic cake server she had stolen from a banquet table to poke at the bottom tier of the galaxy cake.
"It’s not cheese, see?" Nova giggled, holding out a silver spoon loaded with dark chocolate frosting. "Taste it!"
Sky opened her mouth wide, taking the entire spoonful, her eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Mmm! It tastes like outer space!"
Nova laughed—a bright, ringing sound that made the two security guards at the gate exchange soft, disbelieving smiles behind their sunglasses. For two years, the estate had been a mausoleum; today, it was filled with the messy, chaotic joy of two little girls covered in chocolate.
Grant walked across the terrace.
His footsteps were light now, stripped of the heavy, dragging fury that had weighed him down at dawn. He stopped beside the wheelchair, looking down at the two children.
Nova looked up at him, her smile fading slightly into anxious uncertainty. "Grant... is she really Aunt Claire’s daughter? Is she my cousin?"
Grant sank onto his haunches, bringing his broad chest level with the armrest. He looked at Nova, then at Sky, whose chin was currently smeared with a thick streak of blackberry cream.
He saw it now with blinding, unmistakable clarity.
Nova had Claire’s high, intelligent forehead and sweet, patient spirit. Sky had Claire’s wild curls, her defiant chin, and her luminous, fearless eyes. They were two halves of the same soul, reunited on a bluestone terrace beneath a ring of blue balloons.
"She’s your cousin, Nova," Grant said, his gravelly voice thick with an emotion he no longer tried to conceal. "And she is never leaving this house."
Sky turned her chocolate-covered face toward him, her eyebrows knitting together in that familiar, comical furrow.
"Does this house have dogs?" Sky demanded. "Mommy said rich people have big dogs that sleep on rugs."
Grant let out a deep, booming laugh—a sound so unexpected and powerful that the guards at the gate visibly jumped.
"We don't have a dog yet, Sky," Grant smiled, reaching out with his large, calloused thumb to gently wipe the frosting from her chin. "But we’re going to get two tomorrow. One for you, and one for Nova."
Sky gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Two dogs! Nova, we’re getting two dogs!"
Nova threw her arms around Sky, burying her face in the little girl’s curls, laughing until she had to catch her breath. "This is the best birthday ever, Grant! This is the best birthday in the whole world!"
Grant looked at his daughter’s radiant face, then at the empty chairs surrounding the thirty-two banquet tables.
The high-society families of Seattle had thought they were breaking his spirit by boycotting his daughter's party. They had thought their absence would leave a void of humiliation that would remind the ruthless Grant Hawthorne of his isolation.
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Instead, their cowardice had cleared the stage for a miracle.
The thirty-two empty chairs were irrelevant. The opinions of the city's corrupt elite were dust. The Hawthorne family had been reborn on this terrace, forged from the ashes of Claire’s sacrifice and the fearless heart of a five-year-old child in a starry dress.
