Bending over with my hands resting on my hips, I reassure the woman, who looks like she's in cardiac arrest.

"Please come in and sit down." She gestures towards the bead store. "I'll get you a glass of water."

That's the least you can do, I thought. Although, it was actually my fault for running so close to the stores. "Really, I'm fine."

I look around her, noting the woman inside picking out beads.

"Deidra." She sticks her hand out.

She can't be any older than me. Her hair is as black as mine, cut in an angle bob with blunt bangs across the front. "Dee for short. I feel so bad."

I touch the bump on my heads that's growing by the minute. "No big deal. I'll be fine."

She moves my hand away, just like my mother would've done to check out the bump. "We open early one Sunday a month, and hardly ever see anyone then," she explains.

I shake her hand, taking a closer look at her hair and wonder if that's what my hair would look like if I got it cut.

"Come on in and join us," Dee offers.

One lady at the table looks up but continues stringing. I walk in and look at the bracelet she's designing, realizing that I'd much rather join them than keep jogging.

"Have you ever made a bracelet?" She holds it up, letting me touch it as it dangles in the air.

"No, I haven't," I admit. The Swarovski crystals glisten in the natural light. "Very nice," I admire the shimmering stones and another cool design on the gray board.

"Want to try?" Dee offers, again.

"I don't think so." I start to laugh, and immediately notice her defense shield go up. "I mean, I don't have a single creative bone in my body. I'd embarrass your store."

"Don't be silly." Dee walks me around her store, showing me the different levels of beading customers.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I think I'll pass today." I leave the door open for another day, maybe.

"Come sit down." Dee pulls out a chair as if she didn't hear me.

She's relentless. No wonder her store is packed when I run by. And I find myself obeying.

"See, you pick out the beads and lay them on your bead board." Dee points to the gray board in front of me. "I like to put a space between my beads so the wire bends better when you wear it." She points to the silver beads. "All you do is pick out a clasp. Or toggle." She shows me a different clasp with a circle and bar.

I follow her directions on how to crimp one end of the clasp and start designing my own bracelet. The running shop sale has now become a faint memory.

I can't believe all the different beads to choose from. One wall is full of bins that house different glass beads while the opposite wall is full of silver beads with different designs. Beads hang down from the wall on ropes. Each bead is priced differently and comes from different parts of the world. I pick up a tiny bottle.

"Those are seed beads." Dee approaches me with an amused look on her face. "I suggest starting with something a little bigger. Those will take you forever to string."

She's right; I can't imagine trying to hold one of those beads and stringing it one at time. I scan down the bins and notice that the holes get a little bigger with each bead. The cat-eye beads are amazing. The white swirls around each bead, giving them an almost iridescent effect.

"Those look awesome with end caps on them." Dee shows me a couple different silver findings that fit on each side of the bead like a little frame.

Dee moves on, picks up a few tie-dyed looking beads in all different shapes. "Those are chevron beads. They make pretty cool necklaces."

The assortment is overwhelming.

"How about making one for yourself?" Dee puts an empty bead board, next to the group of other beaders.

Surely, I can string a few beads, and save the fancier designs for alter. I'll worry about being creative next time.

"I'll stick to the dynamics and then I may try to be a bit more creative," I tell her.

The group of older women greet me by telling me how beading is good for their arthritis. I like them, and I like it.

"I want to make four bracelets. One for each of my three best friends." I look at the bracelet I just finished with a little more confidence.

"I think that's a great idea." Dee unravels some wire from a spool. "We have a girlfriend night where you can come with your friends, bead, eat and drink wine."

I explain my situation and how I am living here alone. I let her know I won't be staying longer than my twelve weeks, if I make it that long.

The bracelets will be a great way to end our spa trip.

"I want something fun and unique." I concentrate on all the different-colored glass beads.

"Why don't we start with something very simple, so you can get the hang of it." Dee takes the glass beads I had selected and puts them on the bead tray along with the sterling silver balls. "If you lay them out before you string them, it makes things so much easier."

I watch as she creates a pattern.

With a small bit of confidence, I pick up the wire and repeat, "Glass, silver, glass, silver." After a couple, I can start to see the beginnings of an actual bracelet.

I smile.

By the second bracelet, I'm getting the hang of it and requiring less of Dee's time except, for the final crimp. Otherwise, with my luck, I might make the bracelets way too big or too small.

"Great job." Dee inspects both bracelets, and she notices the extra spacers I used on the second one. "Awww, nice touch. You're a pro already. Most beaders aren't so bold until the fourth or fifth time they come here."

"Just my creative side," I say, surprising myself, and dangle my creations into the light, one by one.

Each bracelet is alike, with the exception of one bead. I put a different bead on each one that reminded me of each of them.

I haven't made anything since the third grade when I crocheted my mom a book-mark that turned out to be strings barely sewn together. God love her, she used that book mark with pride, lame as it was.

The girls will be surprised that I made these with my own two hands when generally my own two hands are doing nothing more challenging than dipping down for my credit card. I can't wait to see their faces!

"You'll have to visit a lapidary in Chicago." Dee looks at me smiling.

Okay the jokes on me. What in the hell is a lapii...

"Excuse me?" I ask, pretending not to hear her. I can't say the word, much less know what it means.

"Lapidary," she repeats.

I play along, saying lapidary over and over in my head, so I can Google it when I get home.

"You know, a bead store," she confirms.

"Oh, you said lapidary." I fake-laugh, trying to play it off. Bead store, duh! "I don't know of any. I'll have to check it out."

"You are a natural beader." She is admiring the bracelets. "Usually people are shy and timid their first time. But you, you came shooting right out of the gate and got four completed. And the design is beautiful."

Aunt Grace's phone numbers flashes on my screen.

"Sorry, Dee," I say. "Hold that thought."

"Hello, Aunt Grace." I cradle the phone in between my ear and my shoulder while admiring my creations.

"I swear you are psychic just like your mother." Her voice is low and soft.

"Caller ID." I put down the bracelets and hold the phone closer to my ear.

"Are you down here?" She questions me like she used to when I was a teenager.

"Here where?"

"Where do you think, Hawaii? Downtown, of course." There is a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Much better. She sounds like my aunt I love. Her health is weighing heavy on my mind.

"No, I'm at a store in Hyde Park. Why?"

"I want you to come visit," she says.

Visit? But I want to bead.

"It is my only day off and I wasn't planning on venturing downtown today." I don't want to fight the cockroaches, nor spend the drive itching all the way home and having to shower again.

"We only have nine more weeks, Hallie. You never know, I could be dead by then. I've only seen you three times."

Who the hell is she kidding? Not only has she outlived all her siblings, she's outlived most of her nieces and nephews, plus a few great nieces and nephews. Heart disease has taken most, in our family, but living past seventy-one is pushing it.

"Just because I'm going home in nine weeks doesn't mean I won't visit again." I refuse to give into guilt and regret. The beaders around me are all ears.

But of course I give into the guilt. That is the one good thing my family is so darn good at.

"Dee, I must be going." I gather my belongings.

For the first time since moving back, I'm enjoying myself.

"Oh, okay." There is twinge of disappointment in her voice. "I know this sounds really strange, but I really like the designs you made. I think a lot of my clients would love your fresh young bracelets. Are you interested in making a few for the store?"

She touches my wrist, looking at my bracelets one more time.

She wants me. Me? Me to make bracelets and sell them here!

"I...I don't know what to say." My cheeks flush from the flattery. "I have never made anything in my life."

"Of course, I'd pay you." She points to the display case with other bracelets for sale.

"I would be honored." Why not? I can make bracelets since I have nothing else to do with my downtime.

"Great. You can make them for about five dollars a bracelet and sell them for about twenty dollars. You'd get ten dollars for each bracelet sold."

I do the math. I made four bracelets today, and that took about three hours. That included learning how to do them. Plus the conversation with Dee and the other beaders is enjoyable.

I don't care about the money. It's the activity itself that makes me feel good. Isn't that what those endorphins are supposed to do?

"Deal."

We shake on it.

I know it's a quick decision and I'm new at this, but I've got a really good feeling.

"Great. Take some beads, wire, toggles, clasps and get started. What you don't use, bring back. If you need more, come get them during store hours. You need to make business cards to attach to them." Dee helps me gather all my materials and even throws in a bead board, crimpers, and pliers. All I need to get started.

My mind is racing, trying to come up with different names. The pressure of a name. The scene from Pretty Woman comes to mind, the one in which Julia Roberts' character is next to the pool talking to Laura San Giacomo's character.

Still no name. I'm going to sleep on it.

Chapter Sixteen.

Why does the city feel so much hotter than the suburbs? I pat the sweat from my brow while looking for a safe place to park near Aunt Grace's building.

The kids playing in the water, shooting out from the fire hydrant, bring back memories of me running around the same spouting hydrant years ago.

"Hey, Uncle Jimmy."

"What?" he yelps. "What?" He's sitting in the spot as always with a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap pulled way down, covering his eyes. "Your aunt is upstairs. Crazy old broad."

"Now, now, Uncle Jimmy. That's no way to talk about your bride." There's no way I'm going to fight with crazy.

"Bride my ass." He still won't look at me. "She's always on me about having a little nip here and there."

A little nip, right. He reeks of alcohol and I'm standing three feet away.

"Nothing wrong with a nip, as long as it's a nip." I laugh and climb up the stairs behind him.