And because of her carelessness, Tasha’s dream was in ashes.

No matter how much her friend tried to reassure her, that was the truth of it—and until she exhausted every possible means to help restore that dream, she wasn’t giving up.

Christi massaged her temple, where a headache was beginning to throb. “You’re being kind.”

“Nope. Honest. If I’m supposed to get the restaurant, I will. It’s in God’s hands.”

True.

Though sometimes God enlisted humans to intervene to ensure his will was done.

“I’ll keep praying.”

“Me too. So you want my opinion about these offers? Don’t walk away without giving them serious consideration. You can job hunt from anywhere, you know. And you wouldn’t have to trek back here if you decide to relocate. I could pack up your place and oversee the movers. You don’t own much stuff. All you have to do is say the word.”

The room grew fuzzy, and Christi plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table. Swiped at her nose. What had she done to deserve such a friend? Especially since she wouldn’t have given Tasha a second look in her younger days, when status and wealth and pedigree were everything.

Thank God she’d come to recognize that the measure of a person wasn’t in their bank account or social standing but in the treasures of their heart. And in that regard, Tash was the richest woman she’d ever met. Generous to a fault, nonjudgmental, kind, smart, faith-filled, loving—she was the real deal.

How she’d miss her if she decided to change addresses.

“I appreciate your willingness to coordinate the logistics of a move for me—but it’s a huge step. And it’s not like I have any friends here.”

“You’ll make some.”

“I won’t find anyone like you.”

“What? There aren’t any cornrows up there?”

Leave it to Tasha to inject humor if a conversation trended too emotional. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do—but we won’t lose touch. That’s a promise. I’ll call you so much, you’ll be sick of me.”

“Never.”

“Wait and see. Listen, I gotta run. We have a high-profile event tonight, and the head honcho chef wants all hands on board super early. Will you call me tomorrow with an update?”

“Yes. Thanks for listening—and for the advice.”

“Just call me Dear Abby. Ta-ta.”

As Tasha ended the connection, Christi swung her feet to the floor. A beam of sunlight peeked through the blinds, suggesting the fog and rain had finally lifted. And wonder of wonders, her cold seemed to be gone after her sound night’s sleep, and her energy had rebounded.