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"I promise I'll keep an ear out and let you know if I catch wind of any nice apartments coming available, or cute little rental houses," Eva assured him.
Michael's face lit up at the thought. "That would be amazing. Hopefully something perfect pops up soon."
He leaned over to give Eva a quick hug. "Thanks again for dinner. Let's do it again soon."
"Absolutely, it was so nice catching up outside of the cafe," Eva replied warmly.
Michael grabbed his leftovers container and climbed out of the car. Eva watched as he walked up to the main entrance of the aging complex and unlocked the front door.
He turned and gave one last wave before disappearing inside. Eva waited until she saw the living room light turn on, signaling Michael had gotten in safely.
Chapter Thirteen
The orange glow of the sunrise cast a warm embrace over Claire's garden, bathing each leaf and petal in a delicate hue. She sat on the worn bench, a sketch pad balanced on her lap. Daisy nestled beside her, purring contentedly as she soaked up the morning sunlight. Claire's pencil glided across the paper, bringing the untamed beauty of the garden to life. She shaded the full blooms of the roses, carefully detailing each velvety petal. Tiny leaves and stems took shape under her touch. As a butterfly paused to sip nectar from a purple coneflower, Claire quickly sketched its vibrant wings, smudging the pencil to soften the edges. She lost herself in recreating on paper the sanctuary she had found within the garden.
David would have adored being here with her, tending to the rambling garden they could have made flourish together. She could picture him so clearly - his sandy hair shining in the sun, forehead creased in concentration as he gently pulled weeds from around the flowers. She would have brought him cool lemonade on hot afternoons, laying a damp cloth across the back of his neck as they took a break in the shade. They'd have laughed together at the birds playing on the fence, and talked for hours about plans to expand the garden even more the following year.
As she sketched, Peter emerged from the house next door, watering can in hand, his brow furrowed as he surveyed her overgrown garden. He leaned against the fence, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Your garden seems a tad neglected, don't you think?" he called out, the corners of his mouth twitching with a teasing smile.
Claire looked up from her drawing and smiled warmly at him, her gaze unwavering. "I love it just the way it is," she replied, her voice soft yet resolute. "Each plant has its purpose." She glanced back down at her sketchpad, her hand tracing the curve of a daisy's petals. She hoped Peter would take the hint.
Peter lingered his gaze on Claire, eyes trailing over her face and figure. She tensed, shoulders tightening as subtle discomfort prickled over her skin.
"Ah, I see," he finally said, nodding thoughtfully before returning attention to his meticulous watering. His eyes lingered on Claire for a moment longer, as if considering her again. She didn't relish his attention, not on herself or her garden. He could keep his gaze away from them both. He then returned his attention to his task, leaving Claire to her thoughts and the quiet serenity of her garden.
He tilted the watering can one last time, nourishing the colorful blooms beneath it before straightening up. "Well, I'll leave you to your... creative chaos." With a wink, he turned on his heel and began to retreat back into his house.
"Have a good day!" Claire called out, waving cheerfully at his retreating figure, she was glad he was gone for the moment. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, and it was more than just his mild insults to her garden. Claire kept her focus on the sketchpad balanced in her lap, willing him to go. She let out a soft breath as the creaky garden gate announced his exit. The tension eased from her body and she relaxed back onto the weathered bench.
"Hello Claire," a gentle voice called out from beyond the fence. Startled, Claire looked up from her sketchpad to see Abby standing there, clutching the wooden slats with a sheepish smile on her face.
"Abby! Hey!" Claire replied warmly, setting her sketchpad aside.
"I wanted to apologize for Peter earlier," Abby said, her eyes casting down in embarrassment. "His opinions can be... strong, sometimes."
Claire chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it, Abby. We all have our preferences." She gestured towards the vibrant chaos of her garden. "This is mine."
Abby smiled, her relief apparent. "You know, Peter has never been much of a gardener. He likes things neat and orderly. I'm the one with the green thumb in our family. If it weren't for me, we'd probably be living in an apartment right now."
"Really?" Claire asked, genuinely surprised. She glanced at the neighboring yard, where neat rows of plants stood like soldiers awaiting orders – a stark contrast to her own wild haven. "I wouldn't have guessed."
"Peter is more of an indoor person," Abby confided, a playful glint in her eyes. "He'd rather spend his time organizing bookshelves or rearranging furniture than getting his hands dirty in the soil."
"Ah, the joys of order," Claire mused, stroking Daisy's fur absentmindedly. "I suppose there's a certain beauty in it, but I've always been drawn to the wilder side of life." She smiled at Abby. "I'm glad you're here to keep him grounded, though."
"Me too," Abby agreed, her gaze drifting over Claire's garden with admiration. "Your garden has a certain magic to it. It's easy to see why you love it so much."
"Thank you, Abby," Claire said with sincere gratitude.
Abby's gaze settled on Daisy, her eyes softening as she took in the contented feline. "She's beautiful," she remarked, reaching through the fence to gently stroke Daisy's fur. "I don't think I've ever seen a cat with such lovely markings."
"Daisy has been my rock through everything. Would you like to come over for some tea?" Claire asked. "I have some fresh mint from the garden that would make a delicious brew."
She let out a sigh and shook her head. "I wish I could, Claire, but I have a mountain of chores waiting for me inside. Peter is particular about the house being tidy, and I can't afford to fall behind." Her voice carried a hint of resignation.
"Of course," Claire said, understanding how much work took to keep a home clean and organized. "Another time, then. Just know that you're always welcome here, whether it's for tea or simply a chat by the fence."
"Thank you, Claire," Abby replied, her smile warm and appreciative. "That means a lot to me." And with a final wave, she turned and disappeared back into her own home.
