“I loved her enough to let her be happy. She married soon after and had children. I saw her almost every day…until the day she died, and seeing her smile and knowing she was living a wonderful life, that was enough for me.”

Tears burned the backs of Sarah’s eyes. But her grandma hadn’t been completely happy. Not without him. How could she tell him that? Would it matter? Or would it only make him sad to know that Dove’s heart had broken with his rejection? That she’d never fully gotten over him?

He snapped his fingers, making her jump. “You came for the bulbs,” he said, pointing to his head. “Nothing wrong with the old brain, in case you were afraid I’d forgotten.”

Sarah laughed, feeling the tension from the moment dissipate slightly. “Guilty.” She’d practically forgotten the reason she was there.

“Wait right there,” he said, going into the back room, where another terrible-sounding coughing fit took over.

“Do you need help?” she called. Not waiting for an answer, she pushed past the curtain to his work area. Several wooden benches were set up with various paint cans and sections of glass on top. In the corner was a furnace where the clear glass was melted, and on the other side of the room was an annealing oven, used for cooling finished pieces.

The shop extended farther than she’d realized. Behind the work area was a small living quarters. She could see the bachelor-style suite with the kitchenette, small living room, and a cot in the corner. Dated but comfortable-looking furniture and a small television and not much else.

He lived here, too.

I was better alone.

He’d spent his entire life alone. Her heart ached for him and for her grandma and for what never had the chance to be.

Seeing a row of pictures along the wall, she stopped to look at them. Jack in his air force uniform with two other men. One she didn’t recognize…but the other was definitely her grandfather. In the next picture, there were the three of them—her grandmother in the middle with her arm around each man, her smile lighting up the black-and-white picture. The photos had to have been taken before the men had left for war. They all still looked young and hopeful.

“Recognize that beauty?” Jack asked, coming up behind her with a large box in his arms.

She took it from him quickly, and her arms sagged under the unexpected weight. “My grandma. She was…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence, turmoil and a desperation to keep her grandma’s confidence making her say instead, “Thank you for getting these made so quickly. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re more than welcome.” He led the way back into the front of the shop, holding the curtain for her. “Looks like the storm is blowing over.”