The gifts were Joanna’s idea.
But the children who received them looked disappointed.
“These Barbies and toy cars are kind of old news. I still like that teddy bear cake your mom used to make. Why didn’t you bring one this time?”
Celia’s closest friend couldn’t help but grumble.
Celia pressed her lips together.
Those teddy bear cakes–her mom made them. They were complicated to bake. More than once, her mom burned her hands in the process.
Unfortunately, Miss Sinclair didn’t know how to make them.
If only her mom were here.
Raymond felt the same sting of disappointment.
Ever since Celia had blocked their mother’s number, she hadn’t called again. It had been ages
since he’d heard her voice.
He missed her, just a bit. But soon, he’d get to see her again.
Although, if Mom was around, Miss Sinclair wouldn’t visit as much.
Chester, meanwhile, was unaware of what the two kids were feeling.
When the butler learned Chester was heading back to Oceanview City, he called to remind him, “Sir, Mrs. Fordham hasn’t returned to the house in a week. Should I notify her that you’ll be
home?”
Chester frowned, his expression turning cold.
“No need. If she isn’t coming back, clear out the master suite. Celia, Raymond, and Joanna will stay with me.”
Usually, he only returned to the house to visit the children. But now that Celestine was giving him the silent treatment, she had no reason to set foot in their home.
On the other side of the city, after moving back to her old apartment, Celestine began tending to a small balcony garden. Her skills with plants were average at best, but somehow, without the constraints of marriage, she felt lighter, more at ease.
Her neighbor, old Mr. Clifton Prescott, was far more worried about the plants than she was, often scolding her with a gruff huff. “Young lady, if you don’t know how to care for flowers, stop overwatering them. You’re going to drown the poor things.”
Once he’d finished rescuing her garden, the neighbor would take Celestine aside to explain, “Don’t mind the old man. He’s been in a mood lately. I heard his grandson refuses to settle
14:09
Chapter 8
down, and they’ve had quite the row. That’s why he’s run off to live here.”
Celestine just smiled.
Life with the Fordham family had always been strict. She’d tiptoed around, careful with every word and gesture, all to accommodate them.
Clifton, for all his sternness, was knowledgeable. With his advice, caring for the garden became much easier.
Over time, the two developed an unlikely friendship.
One evening, Celestine received an invitation from her old university mentor.
When Crystal Lennox heard Celestine would be going to the National Chic Gala, she didn’t hesitate to suggest they go together.
Celestine had studied design in college. She was sharp, brimming with fresh ideas. Back then, she’d joined Crystal’s studio under the alias “Smile,” creating one stunning piece after another–until marriage pulled her away.
Crystal’s studio had only grown since then, and it was no surprise she’d been invited to the gala. When Celestine arrived, Crystal was already mingling, surrounded by admirers. These days, she was something of a rising star in the field, her reputation growing with every passing year. People clustered around her, eager to make connections.
A successful woman always shines the brightest–men are just part of the backdrop.
Watching from the sidelines, Celestine lowered her gaze.
All these years, she’d poured herself into Chester and the children, nearly forgetting who she’d once been.
After so long, could she still be the brilliant designer she used to be?
Lost in thought, she barely noticed when Crystal approached.
“This year’s National Chic Gala is really something,” Crystal said, lighting a cigarette with a wry smile. “Lots of fresh faces. Seeing them reminds me of you, back in the day. I wanted you to stay at Kismet Collective, you know. It’s a shame…”
Kismet Collective was the studio Crystal had founded in college–now a full–fledged company.
Celestine gave a bittersweet smile. “Kismet Collective’s done just fine without me.”
The world of design is full of prodigies. No one stays at the top forever.
And besides, she hadn’t touched a sketchpad in years.
‘I don’t see it that way,” Crystal replied, exhaling a curl of smoke. “Celly, Kismet Collective can run without you, sure. But the design world without you? That’s a real loss. Women–especially talented, brilliant women like you–should never let anything hold them back.”
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