"I restore porcelain dolls," Dean said, his deep voice matter-of-fact. "Been doing it for about fifteen years now."
Mandy's mouth fell open. She stared at his massive frame, trying to reconcile the image of this bear of a man - literally - with the delicate work of repairing fragile dolls. Her brain kept wanting to place him in a logging camp or on a construction site, somewhere his impressive size would seem more... appropriate.
Lena's musical laugh filled the room. "You should see your face! Everyone has that same reaction when they find out." She squeezed Dean's hand affectionately. "But he's got the steadiest hands I've ever seen. People ship their dolls to him from all over the country - family heirlooms, antiques, beloved childhood toys that need restoration."
"It's amazing work," Dean said, his green eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Each doll has its own story, its own significance to someone. When I can restore one that's been in a family for generations..." He spread his huge hands expressively. "There's nothing quite like seeing someone's face when they get back a treasured piece of their history, good as new."
Mandy tried to picture those enormous hands delicately painting tiny porcelain features or carefully reattachingminiature limbs. The mental image both amused and fascinated her.
"Plus," Lena added with a grin, "you should see how cute he looks wearing his magnifying glasses while he works on the really tiny details."
Mandy couldn't help giggling at the image of Dean hunched over a workbench with tiny magnifying glasses perched on his nose. The mental picture of his massive hands cradling delicate porcelain dolls would stay with her for a long time.
"Here," Lena pulled out her phone. "Let me get your number. We should definitely do lunch soon - I'd love to be friends, and I'm sure you have about a million more questions about everything."
They exchanged phones, typing in their contact information. Mandy's fingers trembled slightly as she entered her details into Lena's phone. Her first real-life - well, human - friend in years. The thought warmed her almost as much as the pendant against her skin.
"How about Tuesday?" Lena suggested, tucking her phone away. "There's this great little Mexican place in Old Tucson - they have the most amazing chile rellenos."
"Tuesday would be perfect," Mandy agreed, already looking forward to it. "Text me the address?"
Dean carefully extracted himself from beneath the cats, who had thoroughly claimed his lap during their visit. Bach and Mozart gave him reproachful looks as they were displaced, making him chuckle.
"Sorry, guys," his deep voice rumbled with genuine regret. "But those dolls won't fix themselves."
At the door, Lena surprised Mandy with a warm hug. "I'm so glad we met," she said softly. "It'll be nice having someone else to talk to about all this magical stuff."
Dean followed with another of his gentle bear hugs, and Mandy marveled again at how someone so massive could be so careful with his strength.
As she closed the door behind them, Mandy leaned against it, processing everything she'd learned. Bach and Mozart wound around her ankles, probably hoping for treats to make up for their new friend's departure.
"Well," she told her cats, pushing away from the door. "That was certainly an interesting afternoon."
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Mandy stretched luxuriouslyin her recliner, still marveling at the absence of pain. More than a month had gone by since her first wish - a month of daily swims and long walks through Tucson's parks, and her body moved with an ease she'd forgotten was possible.
Mozart was curled in her lap while Bach sprawled across the back of the chair, both cats purring contentedly. She still missed the lovely Airbnb, and thoughts of moving to a larger apartment, maybe even a small house, had started creeping into her thoughts.
Her muscles held a pleasant tiredness from yesterday's visit to the Desert Museum. She'd spent hours wandering the exhibits, stopping at the presentations at the Docent stations. She hadn't had to search for benches or worry about her back seizing up - not once. The Air and Space Museum had been fun, too, and she'd actually gotten to see the Air Force One that had carried President Kennedy.
Now, it was time for mermaiding. Mandy shivered with anticipation as she scrolled through eBay's offerings of mermaid tails. Her new measurements were carefully noted on a sticky note beside her keyboard.
A particular listing had her catching her breath. The tail was gorgeous - professional grade silicone in swirling shades of purple and blue that reminded her of twilight over the ocean. The matching top was designed to look like shells, covered in the same iridescent colors. The seller had included videos showing the tail in action, demonstrating its flexibility and natural movement in the water.
Her hand trembled slightly as she checked the measurements against her notes. Perfect! The tail would fit her new form exactly. The price made her wince momentarily, but she pushed aside her habitual frugality. This was an investment in her dream, after all.
Taking a deep breath, Mandy clicked the "Buy It Now" button. Her heart raced as she entered her payment information, excitement building with each keystroke. When the confirmation page appeared, she let out a small squeal of delight that startled Mozart from his nap.
"Sorry, sweetie," she murmured, scratching behind his ears in apology.
Mandy pushed herself up from the recliner, marveling again at how easily her body responded. No stiffness, no pain - just smooth, natural movement. She wasn't sure she could ever get used to the difference - wasn't sure she wanted to get used to it.
At her desk, she settled into her ergonomic chair and opened her laptop. The manuscript she'd labored over during her month-long retreat glowed on the screen. She'd used the solitude and peace of the Airbnb to not only complete her first draft but to polish it until every word sparkled.
With practiced movements, she emailed the file to her Kindle. While waiting for it to arrive, she made a fresh cup of tea - chamomile with honey, perfect for a final read-through.
