Delivered with Love (11 page)

C
laire let Vivian in, gave her a quick hug, and then knocked on Tom and Nancy's door. Tom emerged from the bedroom wearing a white T-shirt and plaid flannel pajama bottoms. Claire stood next to the brown sofa. She didn't want to pry, yet she wanted to know what would bring Vivian all this way.

"What are you doing here?" Tom paced back and forth in front of Vivian, confining her to the entryway. "Nancy's been crying all day. And now you show up to ruin what's left of the night."

"You know I don't mean any harm, Tom. I just need to talk with my sister." Vivian fidgeted with the ends of the bright pink flowered scarf around her neck. The flowers reminded Claire of the tulips she'd given her mother on a particularly hard day of chemo.

Tom ran a hand over his balding head and planted the other on his hip. "Darn you, woman. Why'd you have to come tonight? Couldn't you have worked it out over the phone?"

"Would you like tea?" Claire cut in, hoping to ease the tension. Vivian must be tired and thirsty.

"I'd love some, thank you." Vivian shifted from one foot to the other.

"Tom, can you take her coat while I heat the water?" Claire took a few tentative steps toward the kitchen. Someone had to make Vivian feel welcome.

Tom made unintelligible noises and then extended a hand.

"I don't mean to be any trouble. I've done some thinking. "Vivian handed her heavy coat to Tom but kept the scarf around her neck. "I'm sorry for intruding, but I couldn't help it. I took the afternoon Greyhound bus, splurged on a taxi, and came straight here. I didn't know it would take so long."

Nancy appeared from her bedroom. Her hair was askew, and she wore her bathrobe and slippers. "Vivian?"

Vivian nodded and grinned. "Yes, it's me, Sister."

Claire slipped into the kitchen and made tea—for the second time that night. She strained to hear the conversation in the other room, but their voices were low. If Vivian had arrived the day before, maybe Claire would've roomed with her. She dunked the tea bag in the cup of boiling water. Vivian's appearance brought back memories of working in the diner. She didn't want to ever go back to that type of work. Mr. Matley and his burned finger flashed across her mind.

She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and placed it on the saucer next to the cup, then brought it out to Vivian. Their voices hushed the minute Claire walked into the room. What would cause Vivian to ride the bus through the night to see her sister? Must have been something serious the way Nancy's arms were clamped tight across her chest. Claire dipped her head. It was none of her business. She yawned and walked down the hallway to bed, leaving Tom, Nancy, and Vivian to talk in private.

Claire stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. She'd tossed and turned for the past five hours, hearing the voices drone on late into the night before she finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Tom and Nancy were early risers, and they had yet to appear from their bedroom.

"Good morning." Vivian's voice was chipper, perky even. But then again, Vivian had had a sunny disposition when she worked with her in L.A. Vivian's light blue sweat outfit clung to her full body. "Last night Tom and Nancy told me how you ended up in their home. Small world, isn't it?" She grinned.

"I know. Can you believe it?" asked Claire.

Vivian shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders. "What are you doing up so early?"

"It's my first day on the job, and I don't want to be late. "Claire grabbed the toast and spread a thick layer of butter.

"Still waitressing?" Vivian pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down.

Claire scrunched up her nose. "Definitely not."

"You never did like working at the restaurant." Vivian laughed. "But you made nice tips."

Yeah. And it all went to Mark.
Her mind didn't want to go down that road. "I got a job as a caregiver for an elderly woman. We're going to be living in a small house on Depot Hill." Claire took a bite of her toast.

"I've told you before, you're college material." Vivian grabbed a banana from the bowl in the middle of the table." Maybe you could enroll in night classes." She peeled the banana and took a bite.

College. Claire thought about it from time to time, especially when she was around Vivian. She was good for the ego. "I'll think about it. But for now, I need to do a good job for Michael's mother." Claire set her toast on a plate and joined Vivian at the table. "How's everything at the diner?"

Vivian shrugged. "I quit."

"No!" Claire clapped a hand over her mouth. "The customers love you." She thought about the cute older couple who sat in Vivian's station almost every day for their slice of pie. They'd miss her.

"Mr. Sutherland took a managerial position at a big chain restaurant. It's not the same. The new manager is a drill sergeant. I thought it was a good time for me to leave too. So, here I am—in between jobs." Vivian finished off the banana and grabbed an orange.

"What are you going to do now?"

Vivian cocked her head. "I'm eager to see what plans God has for me. Too bad you're not available to room with. I'd consider living here. Nancy's been after me to move here for years."

You're a day too late.
One corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "Yeah, too bad." Claire took an apple from a bowl in the center of the table and bit into the fruit. "Did you work everything out with Nancy?"

"Yeah, I hope so. The hurt's been buried deep for so many years. We probably only skimmed the surface, but I'm willing to move forward. I want a relationship with my sister." Vivian folded her arms across her large bust. "We've been fighting so long, it doesn't seem real that our relationship might be headed in the right direction."

Would she and Haley allow years to go by without reconciling? Claire pulled in a breath. "Anything I can help you with?" She placed her half-eaten apple on her plate.

"Pray."

Pray?
She'd heard Blake give thanks before meals. Do people talk to God about other things too?

"I've learned to lean on the Lord. And I know Nancy does too. There's no other way this wedge between us can totally be resolved." Vivian chuckled. "Prayer and maybe Tom taking an extended vacation. That man doesn't like me much. When I hurt Nancy, I hurt him as well."

How did Vivian hurt Nancy? Claire couldn't imagine.

Vivian stood. "It was so good to see you, Claire. I hope I didn't startle you too badly last night."

"It's all right." Claire grinned. "It was good to see you, too."

Vivian lumbered into the family room. Claire placed her plate in the dishwasher and leaned against the counter. She was no closer this morning to finding out what had happened between Nancy and Vivian than she was last night. Not that it was any of her business, but she cared for both women and wanted to see each one happy.

Pray.
She'd been hearing about prayer lately—Blake, then Nancy, and now Vivian. It was an interesting concept. She'd have to pay attention to how Blake talked to God. Claire smiled. Blake could teach her many things. "Look out, neighbor, here I come."

Michael parked his car in the driveway of the rental house. He opened the passenger door and helped his aging mother out of the car. He had learned once before not to pull her up, but to allow her to use her leg muscles to get to a standing position. "Here's your walker, Mom." He was missing a few hours' work—precious time to drum up business—to help his mother move into the rental.

She tilted her chin heavenward and took in a big breath. "Smell that ocean air. I'm going to like it here."

Obviously, his mother was not on his timetable. "Let's get you into the house so you can claim your room." He winked.

"Oh, you. I'm not a child, so you can quit teasing me. I'm sure either bedroom will be fine." His mother playfully swatted the air. "What time did you ask Claire to be here?"

"Ten." Michael glanced at his watch. "We're a little early." The small moving truck sat parked in front of the house. "That was nice of your friends to drive your things up for you."

"Wasn't it? They cleared my apartment at Regis Retirement Living and wanted to drive up the coast. They're going to fly back down to L.A. tomorrow." She shuffled toward the front door.

"Do you think you can manage the front steps or should I build you a ramp?" Michael surveyed the height of the steps, something he took for granted.

"I never liked the looks of a ramp. It screams 'old person lives here.' A sturdy handrail might be nice, though."

He agreed. "I'll get right on that." Or hire someone. He didn't want to fork out any more money on the house, but if it kept his mother safe, he'd do it.

Once inside, the scent of cleaner mixed with paint brought a smile to Michael's face. His mother liked things neat and tidy. The smell alone would make her feel comfortable. "I'll see if Blake's home. I should have thought about getting another man to help unload the furniture. I'll get your recliner first, so you can sit down."

"Oh, don't worry about me. My walker here has a built-in seat." She headed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "Looks like someone's been shopping."

Blake. The one detail he forgot to mention to his mother. "I took the liberty of making sure your meals were taken care of. That is, your neighbor will be coming around to cook."

"Claire doesn't know how to cook?" His mother scrunched up her nose and puckered her lips.

"Blake's kitchen caught fire the other day, and I promised he could use this kitchen until his was remodeled. Sorry I didn't run that by you sooner."

"You mean to tell me that good-looking hunk is going to be cooking in my kitchen?" His mother's eyes lit up.

Michael laughed. Mom did appreciate a handsome man when she saw one. "Until his kitchen is remodeled. And he's willing to pay part of the rent."

"Phooey on the rent, if he cooks my meals, that's good enough." She lowered a platform seat on her walker and sat.

A car pulled up in front of the house. It appeared Nancy had driven Claire. He hoped Nancy was fine with the way things had turned out. If not, he'd offer to help her find another rental for her sister. With his connections there was bound to be something else available. "Claire's here."

"Oh, good." His mother clapped her gnarled hands together. "We'll have things set up in no time. I think I would like my recliner. This seat is as hard as a rock."

"Wait. There's a tow truck out front pulling a car—" The minute he said it, Michael wished he hadn't.

"What do you mean?" Mother pushed herself to standing and turned to look out the kitchen window.

"Why that looks exactly like Emily's car—or it did before someone destroyed the hood. Emily used to drive that thing all around with you teenage boys—"

His mind raced. "Mother, please. No memories, okay." Michael walked over and stood next to her. "You promised, not a word to Claire."

"Michael, if you'd face it head-on, your heart would be so much lighter—"

"Hello, we're here," Claire called from the open doorway before she peeked inside. Her entrance saved Michael from getting into a conversation that he'd rather not have.

"Claire, great you're here." He walked over to the door. "I was going to see if Blake was home to help unload Mother's things." Michael slipped past Claire and Nancy. "I'll be right back." He sprinted out the door.

He cut through the lawn and rang Blake's doorbell. No answer. He knocked.

"Blake's not home." The tow truck driver called to him. "He told me to bring the car to the carport on the back side of the house. He'll be back later this afternoon."

So Blake's fixing that old VW. The man would do just about anything for anyone.

Walking back across the lawn, Michael had to admit he didn't want to face Nancy. How could he when he knew she had planned on having her sister live in the rental with Claire? He hadn't even looked at her as he ducked out of the rental a few moments ago. Was his mother right? Was he afraid to face conflict head-on? A memory of a past mistake jarred his thoughts. It was easier to keep it buried in the past where it belonged. Why should he stir up trouble? Michael shook it off and strolled toward his property.