“Of course we’ve heard. I’m meeting your father there now, but I saw Isaac’s truck and realized we’d missed you.”
“Yet you come in here upset that I spoke with April. Don’t you care about my house and everything else that’s going on?”
“I can help you fix up your house. You don’t have to go to Isaac’s. You can stay with us. Or Leanne.”
She had no desire to go either place. “I’ve already decided. As I said, it’s not for long.”
“It’s long enough to ask for trouble. What if he gets you pregnant? What then?”
Claire knew that could already be true but she refused to let on.
“He’ll never treat you the way David did,” Roni was saying. “He’ll walk away as soon as you have a baby in your belly.”
Isaac didn’t defend himself, but his eyes took on that hard, glittery look, warning that he might retaliate with words equally biting and unkind.
“Let me worry about my reputation, okay?” She hoped to get him out of the burger joint before he got involved. The rift between her and her stepmother was complicated enough. She wasn’t sure how or when they’d be able to move beyond it.
“You think he’ll be better to you than we’ve been?” Roni asked. “You think he’ll look out for your interests?”
Claire didn’t want to have this discussion, not in public and not in front of Isaac. He’d already exhibited more control than she’d ever expected. Had Roni been a man, that might not have been the case. “We’ll talk about it later,” she insisted, but Roni was too upset to relent.
“Leanne told me how you’ve been acting lately.”
“She…what?” Claire said. “I don’t even know what that means. I’m doing whatever I can to get by. If you guys can’t understand—”
“What we understand,” she interrupted, “is that you’re trying to blame what happened to your mother on us. And we don’t like it.”
“I’m not trying to blame anyone. I want the truth. At last. Is that too much to ask?”
“Is that why you stabbed me in the back by going to April? To gather dirt on me?”
Claire wasn’t sure she could claim that wasn’t why she’d gone. She’d known what to expect. “Roni—”
“So I’m Roni now?” Her voice went shrill. “I’m not your mother, who’s been good to you for fifteen years?”
“Of course you are!”
“Then why didn’t you call me when your house was broken into this morning? And why haven’t you apologized for your behavior at the salon?”
Forever conscious of creating a scene, Claire made an effort to keep her voice down. Everyone was staring. “Please, stop. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Leave her alone!” Jeremy yelled.
Claire motioned for her ardent admirer to calm down. “I’m fine, Jeremy. Don’t worry about me.”
Roni wagged a finger at him. “You stay out of it, Jeremy Salter, or I’ll go to your dad and you know what he’ll do.”
Claire stepped between them to divert Roni’s attention. “Please don’t threaten him. It’s me you’re upset with. I haven’t called because I’ve been…busy.”
“Getting laid?” she snapped.
Isaac’s growl told Claire he’d reached the end of his patience. He took her hand, obviously intending to lead her out whether her stepmother liked it or not, but Claire sent him a look pleading for a few more seconds. “That was uncalled for. You—you have no right to judge Isaac or me or anyone else.”
“I don’t care what she thinks of me,” Isaac said.
Claire ignored him. “Just go home,” she said to Roni, “and…and let me have some space, okay? I’ll be in touch when I get my life figured out.”
With that, she and Isaac left. They had to end the confrontation before it grew any worse. But Roni wasn’t about to give her the last word.
“Don’t think you can come crawling back to us when he breaks your heart,” she called.
Claire couldn’t believe her ears. That sounded so permanent. Would she regret this? Until two days ago, she’d never had a major disagreement with her stepmother; now she’d had two. It upset her to think they were at odds, that maybe she was letting her doubts and fears get the best of her.
Her world was as upside down as her house had been this morning. But Isaac was walking briskly, and he had a firm hold on her hand. Before she knew it they were in his truck and she was watching Hank’s Burger Joint grow smaller and smaller through the back window.
20
Claire stared at her reflection through the steam covering Isaac’s bathroom mirror. She hadn’t really needed a shower. She just hadn’t known what else to do with herself. Disappearing into the bathroom was the only thing she could think of that would give her a few minutes to be alone and regroup.
“Are you crazy for being here?” she whispered to herself.
“Certifiable,” came her own answer. And yet what could she have done differently? She felt as if she was being carried along on a giant wave that’d come crashing out of her past to bring her to some new place—but whether that place would be better or worse remained to be seen. In any case, she couldn’t pinpoint where she was to blame for what was happening. It wasn’t her fault that she felt compelled to find her mother. It wasn’t her fault that someone might’ve hired Les Weaver to shoot her husband. And it wasn’t her fault that certain people didn’t have an alibi, or that rumors abounded—rumors of marriage infidelity and jealousy and greed. She was only trying to sort it all out.
The phone rang. Isaac’s voice, when he answered it, came through the door as a low rumble, too low for her to hear what he said. She wondered if that call could be for her, but he didn’t knock at the door, and she wasn’t about to act at home enough to yell, “Who is it?”
What if it was another woman? Hayley Peters, who worked at the boutique where Claire had bought her new clothes, was a beautiful woman with a huge crush on Isaac. She talked about him nonstop whenever Claire went into the shop because she knew they’d once been together and openly envied her. If Hayley called him or dropped in while Claire was here, it could be awkward, especially if Hayley and Isaac had been intimate in recent months.