Take Me Home (9 page)

C
LAIRE’S MOOD LIFTED
as Holly and the two little girls pulled clothes and shoes out of Claire’s closet with abandon, oohing over some and giggling over others.

Holly had hesitated before accepting Claire’s impulsive invitation to help her pick out an outfit, but now she seemed to have gotten into the spirit of the occasion. Her sister had always loved fashion, so Claire thought a little clothing consultation might distract her from her health and marital problems.

Even the usually quiet and studious Brianna had her small feet half-filling a pair of black pumps accented by purple patent leather heels. Claire draped a shimmering gold chiffon scarf around the little girl’s head and shoulders, and Brianna’s face lit up as she flapped her arms to turn the sheer, floating fabric into rippling wings.

“Okay, we have to get serious, girls,” Holly announced. “Aunt Claire brought us here for a purpose. We are on a mission to choose the perfect outfit for her date.”

Kayleigh slid a jeweled Lucite bangle onto her wrist, then looked at her mother with a puzzled expression. “I didn’t think grown-ups went on dates. Or is it just because you and Papa are married that you don’t?”

Claire’s gaze flew to Holly’s face. A stricken look darkened her sister’s eyes, but she said, “No, it’s just that I haven’t felt well enough to do things at night since I got the Lyme disease. Papa
and I used to go bowling on Saturday nights, but back then, you were in bed before we left home.”

“Oh good, because I want to go on lots of dates,” the little girl said, turning the bracelet so it sparkled, “especially if I get to wear pretty stuff like this.”

Claire let out the breath she’d been holding. Unfortunately, Kayleigh’s question had quenched all of Holly’s animation.

“You know, it’s nice to be in West Virginia where you can wear pretty colors,” Claire said, steering everyone’s attention back to the clothing.

Brianna looked at the garments strewn over the bed. “But your clothes are almost all black.”

“That’s because in New York you’re required to wear black at least six days a week,” Claire said.

“Really?” Kayleigh asked, wide-eyed.

“No, she’s kidding,” Brianna said. “I can tell by the way the corners of her mouth sort of tilt up. They always do that when she’s joking.”

“Wow!” Claire said. “I didn’t know. Thank you for warning me.”

“I like it,” Brianna said. “It makes you look like an elf.”

She felt absurdly pleased to seem otherworldly to a child. “Maybe I can grow points on my ears.”

“Hey, back to your job!” Holly admonished them, her hands on her hips. “Now I’m going to work on Aunt Claire’s hairdo.”

“What?” Claire protested as Holly tugged her toward the slipper chair in front of the taffeta-skirted dressing table.

Claire had rented the former barn furnished, so the bedroom reflected the tastes of its owner—a retired poodle breeder—complete with a pale-pink canopied bed, rose-splashed wallpaper, and a dressing table with lighted mirrors fit for a Hollywood starlet. It was not appropriate for an ex-hayloft, but the little girls loved it.

“I can do my own hair.”

Holly picked up a brush and made a sweeping gesture with it. “Silence! I control the Brush of Doom.”

It seemed only Claire detected the forced tone in her sister’s voice because Brianna and Kayleigh looked up from their task in surprise. “Mommy’s bossing Aunt Claire around,” Kayleigh stage-whispered.

“Your mommy has always been very bossy,” Claire said, rolling her eyes to play into Holly’s act. “I feel sorry for you guys, having to put up with her all the time.”

“You’re undermining my authority,” their mother said, shaking the brush at Claire. “They’ll never listen to me again.”

The conversation deteriorated into a tickle fight, which left all four of them sprawled at various angles across the bed. Holly’s wrist lay about six inches from Claire’s nose, and she noticed a new bruise discoloring her sister’s pale skin. The fresh evidence of Holly’s Lyme disease hardened the lump of dismay in Claire’s stomach.

“I hope Brianna and I have fun like this when we’re old,” Kayleigh said.

“You will, honey,” Holly said, pushing off the bed. “It’s a sister thing.”

Longing speared through Claire. If only this lighthearted play wasn’t all for the benefit of the little girls.

Claire busied herself with rehanging the items Holly and her daughters had rejected. Eavesdropping on the debate amongst the three made her smile and blink back tears at the same time. She remembered how wrenching her divorce had been, and she had no children to worry about shielding from the ugliness.

“Aunt Claire, your outfit’s ready,” Brianna called out. “Close your eyes and I’ll lead you.”

Claire braced herself as she let Brianna pull her to the foot of the bed. Opening her eyes, she relaxed. Except for a few more
pieces of jewelry than she would ordinarily wear, the outfit was great.

“This is fantastic!” Claire turned to her sister. “You didn’t tell me that we had two fashion mavens in the family.”

“We like to cut out the clothes from
Vogue
and
Elle
and rearrange them so normal people could wear them,” Holly said. “It’s one of our games.”

Claire turned back to the bed so Holly wouldn’t see her tear-filled eyes. Laid out like a magazine display was a purple full-skirted dress fastened down the front with giant black buttons, the black-and-purple pumps Brianna had been wearing, and a narrow black belt to cinch the waist.

Kayleigh had added several slim black-and-gold bangles and gold hoop earrings with jet drops dangling from the bottoms. There was even a white scarf with black polka dots, which Claire was dubious about until she put the dress on and Holly wrapped the scarf over her head and around her neck. It was the perfect touch of whimsy.

After a session with the Brush of Doom, Holly declared Claire’s ensemble complete.

“Wait!” Claire said. “You all deserve a reward for your outstanding work.”

She scooped the gold chiffon scarf up off the bed and wrapped it around Brianna. “For your soaring imagination.”

The glinting bangle was slipped back on Kayleigh’s wrist. “To match your sparkling eyes.”

She reached up on the closet shelf and took down a bright-red Kate Spade handbag Holly had been strutting in front of the mirror with earlier. “To hold the memory of tonight.”

“I can’t take this,” Holly said, pushing the bag away. “I know what these cost.”

“You know that credit card commercial about what everything costs until you get to the last item and it’s priceless? Well,
this evening has been priceless for me. When I see you carrying this bag, it will remind me of it.”

“I shouldn’t, but thank you,” Holly whispered, cradling the leather bag as though it were spun glass.

Claire hadn’t given away anything that mattered to her, yet the three recipients looked at their gifts as if they were made of solid gold.

“Girls, why don’t you go downstairs and watch the Disney Channel?” Holly said abruptly. “I’m going to help Aunt Claire straighten up here.”

“Yay! Maybe
Wizards of Waverly Place
is on,” Kayleigh cheered as she and her sister dashed for the door. Holly limited their television watching, so this was a rare treat.

“You sit right down and watch me clean up,” Claire said. “I know you’re exhausted. And I notice you have another bruise. I wish you’d take it easier.”

Holly crossed her arms so the bruise was hidden. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Well, that’s good. Now sit and rest.”

Holly dropped onto the dressing table’s chair without further argument. “I wasn’t sure whether I should tell you this, but I decided you should know.”

Her sister’s tone was so serious that Claire put down the belt she’d been rolling up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I looked up Anais Tremont online. There were a whole bunch of news stories, but none of them answered the most important question.”

“Which is?”

“Why she did it. There was a suicide note, but it was never released to the press. Dr. Tim refused to comment. Ever.”

“Who could blame him?” Claire said. “Imagine what he was going through! His gorgeous, talented wife blew her brains
out in an empty theater. Why would he want to talk about that, especially to a bunch of reporters?”

“Yeah, but you can’t help wondering.”

Claire would never admit it, but Holly was right. She did wonder what could have driven Anais Tremont to such despair that her only option was death.

C
LAIRE HAD FORGOTTEN
the potent thrill of nerves and anticipation a first date could deliver. When the doorbell rang, she dropped the black leather clutch into which she was tucking her cell phone and lipstick.

“Get a grip!” she said as she knelt to scrape everything back into the purse’s narrow opening. When her hasty sweep sent the lipstick rolling under the couch, she muttered a curse and then shouted, “Come in! It’s open.”

She was half-kneeling, half-lying on the braided rug with her arm extended under the sofa when Tim’s amused voice said, “May I help?” and the heavy piece of furniture tilted onto its back legs.

She grabbed the errant plastic tube and sat up, shoving the lipstick into the clutch lying beside her on the floor. “Got it! You’re a handy man to have around.”

His chuckle came from behind her as the sofa was lowered gently back into its normal position. “Was it something very valuable?”

“It’s Rarer than Ruby,” Claire said, pulling her full skirt out from under her knees and bracing her other elbow on the cushion to push herself up.

She felt his hands come around her to grip her waist, pressing against the belt Kayleigh had picked out. Then she was weightless, soaring upward like a ballerina in her partner’s arms. Startled,
she grabbed for an anchor and found his wrists, her fingers wrapping around what felt like warm girders of muscle and bone.

“What’s rarer than a ruby? A blue diamond?”

She wobbled as he set her down on her purple heels, and his grip tightened slightly. Her fingers were still locked on his wrists.

“A what?” Claire was too caught up in the experience to grasp what he was talking about.

When she was steady on her feet, he turned her to face him by reaching around to take her opposite hand in his and gently pulling it, like a continuation of their balletic pas de deux.

“What were you so determined to retrieve from under the couch?”

Her spin brought her around to eye level with his chest. He was wearing deep-blue woven silk, not plaid flannel. The silk was framed by the lapels of a pale-gray blazer. She raised her gaze higher, scanning up the strong column of his throat, to find his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, while the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.

“My lipstick. The color is Rarer than Ruby.”

He tilted her chin up farther with a nudge of his finger and considered her mouth. “Mmm. I like it.”

She couldn’t help it. She licked her lips, an involuntary reflex.

The glint and the smile disappeared, and in their place was a look she’d never seen nor expected from Tim. It was as though a huge lens were pulling all the light from the sky and focusing it on one thing—her mouth. She could almost feel the heat, and it shocked her. She had thought of him as big, slow, and safe, but right now, he seemed coiled and ready to spring.

She waved the lipstick tube around to distract him and said, “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it for our next date.”

Now why had she said that about another date? She let out her breath as his eyes lost their laser intensity.

“I don’t think it would work with my skin tone,” he said.

Her laugh was hearty with relief. “Nor your muscle tone.”

“Thank God!”

“Let me grab my wrap, and I’m ready.” If she didn’t fumble her purse again.

As they walked out the front door, he took her elbow in his warm, enveloping grasp. She had always thought of herself as an independent woman who didn’t need a man’s support. Yet she found herself savoring these little demonstrations of Tim’s physical strength. It made her feel...cherished. It was an old-fashioned word, but Tim seemed a bit of a throwback to her, like a knight protecting those weaker than he was, whether they were abused horses or cats named Chuck.