For almost five minutes Claire had been procrastinating through the large bay window, watching the sea waves crashing gently against the sand from a distance. But she had a place to go, and the afternoon was slowly fading.

A second thought? Not really. She was here for it, and so it had to be done regardless of how she felt.

"What took you so long?" Grandpa Robles, as Claire used to call him when she was a kid, approached her.

A small start threw Claire off her train of thought.

"Well..." She let her arms fall loosely off her chest and whirled her body around. "I don't know," she replied vaguely.

"Come," called her grandpa, "sit with me."

Two wing chairs were set near the stone fireplace, seemingly old and vacant for a good while, and upon them, the two took a seat for a small chat that Claire had already anticipated having with him.

Grandpa Robles pulled off his Panama hat, revealing light gray hair surrounding the bald top of his head. Very carefully, while placing the hat on his knee, he asked, "Do you still resent your father?"

"I don't know," Claire replied truthfully, and boldly she propped her one leg and placed it on the opposite knee as though she had her emotions sorted-which wasn't even half the truth. "But I know he didn't care much about me, because if he did, he wouldn't have left me believing otherwise, would he?" Anger betrayed her voice.

Resentment was there. Maybe not a plethora of it, but as small as it was, Claire couldn't cheat the fact.

"Not true, my child," her grandpa rebuked. "All he wanted was to prepare a better future for you so you wouldn't go through the same struggles he'd gone through in life. Trust me, Chiquita, your father had it rough and he vowed to never let you walk in his shoes for that matter."

"A future?" Claire scoffed, even though the story about her father's wealth wasn't a new book on the shelf. "What future is there if I'm now all alone? This is not what I wanted, Grandpa! I wanted a family! I wanted to go home and find people who would hug me, ask how my day was, and whether I wanted to join them for dinner and not argue with that witch! But he denied me that! He had the chance to do it but he didn't! All he cared about was his work! Until the very end, his work came first!"

Silence ensued as Claire trembled with anger. Grandpa Robles gave her a minute before he exhaled a long breath, eyes on her.

"I'm sorry, Chiquita. I'm so sorry for everything but I know your father as if he was my real son. I know he loved you and he'd be very proud of you if he were here today," he insisted, smiling tenderly at her because he meant every word.

And deep down Claire clung to those words. She wished they were true. Even though the pain of losing her father was still fresh, for she couldn't give herself time to mourn three years ago when he suddenly died, she still wanted to believe he was here, watching her even from above, and that he was indeed proud of her.

Sucking in a deep breath to claim her composure, Claire uttered, "I'm only here so that I can finally let go of all the anger. I want to be free. I want to live my life without resentment, even though I'm not sure how that works." A burst of foolish laughter escaped her as she sat upright. "I heard the best way to embrace the future is by accepting the past so... Here I am, Grandpa."

The glow in her eyes indicated tears, but she instantly pushed them back with a deep breath.

"I understand, and that's very wise." The old man smiled proudly. "Does this mean you're ready to take what he's left for you?" he quizzed.

Claire swallowed the bile in her throat. It was time to stop being stubborn and accept the things her father had bequeathed to her.

"It's what he wanted for me, right? The reward for all the suffering? Fine, I'll accept it now." She forced a smile that lay above her sorrow.

Her grandpa nodded. He knew she was a grown woman now.

___

It was two in the afternoon when Claire arrived at the cemetery. Nothing had changed and this was her first visit since the burial. Soft grass caressed her sneakers, her heart heavy at each step taken. Graves were scribbled with the names, dates, and lovely titles of loved ones as she walked by, and loneliness congealed the air she breathed.

An eerie silence surrounded her, not a single living person to be seen.

Claire was finally at her destination, a gray-tilled grave that was still in good shape as though it was made yesterday. Swallowing hard, she placed a large bouquet on top of it and took her sunglasses off. She crouched down and ran her fingers gingerly on the silver plate adorned on the gravestone, her dad's name beaming in bold letters.

Just why did they have to be so showy? Claire took a lungful of breath.

"Hi, Dad," she uttered, smiling faintly. "It's me... your Claire." She pressed her lips together, fighting the tears that burned her eyes.

She wished the dead could hear. She hoped her father could hear.

"It took me so long, huh? I know. I had no courage to face you. I just couldn't stand the sight of you anymore. You weren't the same dad I knew before; not that friendly one who loved me."

She let it all out and broke into uncontrollable tears that had her knees fall on the grass, her hands too, and her gaze rested on the same ground sheltering her father's remains.

"I'm going to be an interior designer, just as I wanted," she proceeded, lifting her gaze. "But you are not going to see it. You didn't even see me wearing the graduation gown. As always, you didn't show up. You're so cruel, Mr. Levy. So fucking cruel. But I miss you terribly. I miss you so much, Dad."

She sniffed and paused, letting the gentle breeze from distant trees quell the tension running through her, drying the streamlets pouring through her eyes, and it wasn't easy.

But it was time to say goodbye.

Fine or not, as minutes passed by, Claire felt like something was off her chest and that made her feel better, reprieved, as though she could breathe again. But amid her grief, she realized that she had an audience.

"Are you feeling better now?" a male voice asked.

Claire swerved around, wiping her tears as swiftly as she could. "Sorry, are you talking to me?" she asked the person her eyes encountered.

"Yes, you," he replied, concerns lacing his gentle voice.

Claire frowned at him, not that it was any of his business. She slowly put her sunglasses on, wearing her bold façade to almost perfection.

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to receive that from a stranger, but thanks for your concern," she replied, ready to go and pretend this young man wasn't nosy enough.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," he said, putting her on a sudden halt. "I should've introduced myself first, maybe?" There was a smile-charming and boyish behind pearly white teeth-as he added, "Hi, I'm Bruno."

He had some manners that would have driven any woman crazy; but not Claire. She just couldn't fall for his gambit. All she wanted was to get out of this place that surely wasn't sufficient for exchanging pleasantries.

For heaven's sake, he may be a ghost!

Yeah, that's a good one. She mused, contradicting her fevered subconscious.

Sighing, she paced a few steps toward this Bruno guy and stopped before him. "Are you a journalist, by any chance?" she queried, taking the vintage camera, a beat-up Canon AE-1 hanging around his neck, into account. "Because I don't have any scoop for you, in case that's your issue."

He better be a journalist and not a ghost, she kept thinking.

Bright brown eyes stared down at her, and a sound of laughter followed "A journalist? Goodness, that's a first. No, I just saw you in there and I felt concerned, that's why I couldn't ignore you," he claimed.

"How sweet of you," Claire retorted, sarcasm above her words. "Well, you should stay here and do charity then, don't you think? I'm pretty sure you'll have plenty of damsels to rescue if you keep up with that pace. Thank you for your concern, Bruno, but I'm fine."

"Ouch," he muttered, holding his heart as though a sharp arrow had just pierced through him. Laughing gently, he muttered, "I'm sorry if I was rude. But, truly, you looked devastated there and I can't stand seeing a woman cry. But, well, I can see you are full of energy now, so I'll take my leave, shall you permit me."

"I thought you'd never ask," Claire blurted out.

I did not say that! She admonished herself, for it was a bit rude.

"Okay," Bruno said, his voice wounded. "Take care."

Eyeing him leaving, Claire felt somewhat guilty for lashing out without any grand reason. Her hand reached for the pair of sunglasses on her face and tugged them away.

"Wait," she urged.

Bruno turned around, no word spoken.

"I'm sorry. I'm not having a good day, to be honest," she confessed.

Yeah, this was random and all, but what happened to that adventure bonus she'd wished for? What if this guy at the cemetery was the adventure she craved? Of course, he wasn't a ghost. Now she was sure of it.

Do ghosts even exist? She brushed it away as quickly as she could.

"Apology accepted." Bruno beamed, taking a step back toward her. "And again, I'm truly sorry as I can tell you're having it bad." He focused on her eyes that still harbored her sadness.

"Well, thanks." She freed a tight-lipped smile while bracing her shoulder bag against her hip.

"I think I told you my name, but I haven't heard yours yet," said Bruno, staring at her with a mischievous gleam on their way out.

"Claire," she told him softly.

"Oh. Such a pretty name." His voice was teasing with warmth.

"Thanks." Claire had no reason to stay sullen; her face brightened with an indulgent smile.

"So, are you new around here? I've never seen you before," Bruno proceeded.

"Oh, aren't you a know-it-all? How can you tell if I'm new or not?" she replied accusingly.

He laughed heartily, something he seemed to do effortlessly.

"Well, you can say that again," he bragged. "I know almost everyone around here, but this is the first charming face to meet the eyes."

"Is that how you get into them ladies, huh?" Claire tilted her head to capture the flustered look on his tanned face.

"You're funny," he uttered, but indeed he seemed like a charmer. "And beautiful, too. Would you mind having a cup of coffee with me, Claire?" he proposed bluntly.

"You're not flirting with me, are you?" Claire asked, and another laughter escaped Bruno. "Well, I'm just warning you, because I'm not easy to handle."

"I had no plans to, but I guess I've changed my mind a second ago," Bruno replied, and the look of Claire's popped eyes amused him to the deep core of his heart. "I'm just kidding, Claire. I'm only inviting you for coffee and nothing more."

Indeed. That's how it always begins. Claire gave him a long look, but it wasn't flirty-not yet.

"Cool, let's have coffee," she acquiesced with a little smile.

_________

A/N: So, what do you think of Bruno guy? Could he be the adventure my girl wants so badly?