Chapter 2 - THE CLOCK THAT STOPPED AT MIDNIGHT
Bellamy Clockworks had been in my family for seventy-three years.
My grandfather opened the shop after returning from the Korean War.
He repaired watches.
Mantel clocks.
Grandfather clocks.
Anything with gears, springs, or a stubborn refusal to keep time.
When he died, my grandmother kept the business running.
When her hands became too unsteady for delicate repairs, I took over.
I loved the shop.
The smell of wood polish.
The ticking.
The little brass tools arranged in velvet-lined drawers.
Blake hated it.
He called it a museum.
A hobby.
A dead-end career.
Three weeks before our wedding, he told me he had found a buyer for the building.
I stared at him.
“What?”
He smiled.
“Don't look so upset.”
“Blake, it's my grandfather's shop.”
“It's a building, Nora.”
I shook my head.
“It's more than that.”
He sighed.
“You're too sentimental.”
I refused to sell.
He grew angry.
Then distant.
And finally, he ended our engagement.
Now, sitting in the shop on Monday morning, I realized something.
Blake had not simply broken my heart.
He had been trying to convince me to abandon the one place where I still recognized myself.
I unlocked the front door.
Turned on the lights.
And began working.
At eleven fifteen, a black SUV stopped outside.
A man stepped out.
Charcoal coat.
Dark hair.
Silver at the temples.
Caleb Rowe.
I stared through the window.
He looked up.
Saw me.
May you like
And smiled.
Then he walked inside carrying a broken pocket watch.
