Cassie stood in the quiet of the nursery, her fingers gently brushing over the edge of the hand-carved crib. The walls were painted a soft olive green, and golden sunlight filtered through linen curtains. A mobile spun lazily overhead, tiny wooden doves fluttering in the soft breeze from the window.
She could still hear Hope’s voice in her head.
“Just a few more weeks, Mom. I’m feeling good. Nervous, but good.”
Cassie had flown to Cape Town the moment Hope entered her third trimester. She wanted to be there, not as the global leader or bestselling author, but as a mother. And soon, a grandmother.
She sat in the rocker beside the crib, soaking in the quiet.
It wasn’t long before Damon appeared in the doorway, holding a cup of tea.
“You’re already claiming the chair, huh?” he teased.
