Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Foundation
We stepped onto the polished dance floor as the live orchestra began playing a slow jazz arrangement.
Julian held his left hand out, placing his right palm gently against the small of my back—lightly, respectfully, giving me total control over the distance between us.
We moved together across the floor, the emerald green silk of my dress catching the golden glow of the chandeliers overhead.
"You're remarkably quiet tonight," Julian observed gently as we turned near the edge of the floor.
"I was just thinking," I admitted, looking up at him.
"About work?"
"About foundations," I replied. "My father used to tell me that a building can survive a storm, a flood, or an earthquake—as long as the foundation was poured correctly. But if the builder cheated on the cement, a simple breeze will knock it down."
Julian smiled, his eyes warm. "Your father was a wise man."
"He was," I agreed. "It took me a long time to realize that he wasn't just talking about buildings. He was talking about people."
"And how is your foundation feeling, Claire?" Julian asked softly.
May you like
I looked around the room—at Evelyn nodding from the head table, at the hospital directors who now sought my approval for regional contracts, at the life I had rebuilt with my own hands, my own intelligence, and my own unyielding courage.
"It feels like solid rock, Julian," I said, stepping closer as we turned into the music. "Solid rock."
