The Bakery Sisters (12 page)

Lisa draped her coat over the back of a chair and looked around. “She's really staying here?” The tone of the question implied this place wouldn't be much better than sleeping in a car.

“In my house, you mean? Yes. She's staying here.”

“I see. What about practice? I don't see a piano. Is she taking classes?”

“Not that it's your business, but there's a piano downstairs.”

Lisa looked at her. “Everything about Claire is my business. How much is she practicing? Four hours a day works best. She can get by on three and much more than five doesn't help anyone.” She paused expectantly.

Nicole didn't know what to say. Until last night, she hadn't been sure Claire was playing at all. She told herself she didn't owe her intruder anything.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I don't keep track of her.”

“You should. Is she eating well? Getting enough sleep?”

“Claire is twenty-eight. She's capable of getting herself food and putting herself to bed.” Jeez, no wonder her sister was totally useless. She'd never been allowed to be a real person.

Lisa glared at her. “Claire isn't like the rest of us. She is a gifted artist. If she isn't watched, she'll work herself into the ground. She needs rest. A lot of rest. The last few years have been grueling. There seemed to be a window of opportunity. We had to take advantage of that.” She hesitated over her next words. “Claire said it was too much, but I knew what was possible. Now she's at the top. We must do everything we can to keep her there.”

Nicole wasn't clear on who this Lisa person was, but she knew she didn't like her.

“There is no ‘we' in this.”

Lisa ignored that and walked the length of the room. “Do you know if she looked at the schedule I sent? It should have arrived today.”

Nicole thought about the FedEx package in the kitchen. “No, she hasn't seen it.”

“She can study it tonight. We need to get going if we're going to confirm for this fall. It's already so late, but there were openings. There's so much for her to do. Learn new music, schedule fittings and media events. Publicity is a large part of what we do. There's the travel to set up. It's only thirty concert dates in four months, but still. Preparations must be made.”

Thirty concerts in four months? Nicole did the math. That was about a concert every four or five days. If they weren't in the same city, that meant travel to and from. Add in the four hours of practice Lisa seemed to require, along with fittings, interviews and who knows what else, it made for a busy day.

Was that really Claire's life? Constant travel and practice, with the possibly evil Lisa watching over everything?

Nicole remembered Claire telling her that her life was more difficult than it seemed. Not that Nicole was impressed or felt bad or anything. It was still a lot easier than living in the real world.

Lisa crossed to the front window and stared out. “Has she said anything about the recordings?”

“No.” What recordings?

“She's been invited to be on several CDs. I know she'll accept the ones for charity. She always does.” Lisa seemed annoyed by that fact. “But some of the others would be helpful, too.”

Recording sessions in addition to everything else? It made Nicole tired hearing about it.

“At least she gets to see all those cities she travels to,” Nicole said, more to herself than to Lisa.

Lisa turned to look at her. “It's not her job to see the cities. It's her job to practice and play and give interviews. Of course she would rather run away. I don't know how I let things get so out of hand.”

Lisa walked back to the chair and picked up her coat. “I will not simply stand around waiting for her. Please tell her she can call me on my cell. And that I'm not leaving Seattle until we get this disaster straightened out.”

Nicole didn't know what the disaster was and she didn't want to know. Fortunately, Lisa was no longer her problem. She listened to the familiar sound of a car in the driveway.

“Tell her yourself,” she said. “She just got home.”

 

“I'
M BACK
,” C
LAIRE CALLED
as she walked into the kitchen. “Sorry I'm late. Wyatt asked me to join them for dinner, which turned out to be KFC. It's their one fast-food night a week and Amy picked. Have you eaten there? It's really—”

She walked into the living room, saw Lisa standing next to Nicole and instantly wished she hadn't had that extra chicken leg.

“Hello, Claire,” Lisa said coolly. “Tell me you didn't actually eat fried chicken.”

Lisa had always had the ability to make her feel small and stupid. An apology hovered on her tongue, but she bit it back. She was a grown-up and if she wanted to eat fast food, she would. It was her right.

“Yes, I did. It was delicious.”

Lisa pressed her lips together. “What about the diet I gave you? It's nutritionally balanced, with a strong emphasis on soy.”

Nicole made a gagging sound, then held up both her hands, palms out. “Sorry. She just showed up. I didn't know what to do.”

“It's okay,” Claire said. She couldn't hide from Lisa forever. Although it was a lovely daydream.

Lisa ignored the exchange. “I can't begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you, Claire. Disappearing like that, with no warning. Just a voice mail to tell me you were gone. You've been ignoring my calls. Did you think that would work? That I would just go away?”

Claire squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I had a family emergency,” she said, then prayed Nicole wouldn't pipe in with a stinging comment about how Claire wasn't exactly welcome here.

Fortunately, for once her sister was silent.

Lisa's gaze flickered over Nicole, then returned to her. “Everything seems to be fine on that front. I assume you're returning to New York shortly?”

“I am not.”

“What about the fall schedule? It's already half the dates it should be. If you are not out there, people will forget who you are. Brilliance isn't enough. You know that. You know how easily everything can be lost.”

It was a message Claire had been hearing for years. She'd once heard a university professor complaining about the “publish or perish” rule. For Claire it was “perform or perish.”

“I can't take anything on right now,” she said firmly. “I have no idea when I'll be returning to any kind of schedule.”

Lisa's eyes widened. “You don't mean that. You can't.”

Claire wanted to ask if she remembered what had happened the last time she'd gone on stage. How she'd collapsed and humiliated herself. How the panic had won. But she was too aware of Nicole listening and too ashamed to tell her sister the truth.

“There are people depending on you,” Lisa continued. “You are an industry. People's livelihoods are at stake.”

Another line Claire had heard dozens of times. Couldn't Lisa get some new material?

“Mostly yours,” she snapped. “If you want to resign as my manager, I don't have a problem with that.”

Lisa took a step back. “No. That's not what I mean.” She cleared her throat. “Claire, dear. I had no idea you were so upset. Of course you must have time with your family. I shouldn't push you.”

It was amazing how Lisa could play both sides of good cop, bad cop and never miss a step.

Claire hated this. Hated having to disappoint people, hating not being able to play. But that's where she was right now—trapped with a talent she couldn't use. She was bone tired and not willing to get back onto the treadmill that was her life. She was tired of making decisions based on what everyone else wanted. What about what she wanted?

An excellent question, if only she had an answer.

“It doesn't matter if you push me,” she said. “I'm not changing my mind. I'm here until Nicole is better. I might stay longer, I don't know. I'm not willing to make any commitments for the fall or any other time. I won't be pushed. So you need to just back the hell off.”

Lisa stared at her for a long time. “All right. I can see you're not ready to come home. That's fine. I'll wait. You know how to find me.”

Claire nodded but didn't speak. She stayed where she was until Lisa had left, then collapsed onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands.

“Impressive,” Nicole said. “You really stood up to her.”

“I did, didn't I?” Claire dropped her hands to her lap. “I'm shaking.”

“That'll pass. She's really your manager?”

“Has been since I was twelve.”

“She's scary.”

“Tell me about it. But she's also the best. There are a lot of talented musicians out there who haven't had half the opportunities I have.”

Nicole settled into a chair across from the sofa. “She talked about your concert dates, the practice, fittings, media interviews. Is that a regular day?”

Claire leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. “Pretty much. There isn't a lot of free time. Sometimes I feel like those hamsters in a cage, running on a wheel. You go and go, but you don't get anywhere and the view never changes. I will say it's gotten easier. I know a lot of the music. When I was younger, I had to learn everything. That was a nightmare.”

She paused, then braced herself for the sarcastic attack to follow. Nicole wasn't one to walk away from a good comeback.

But her sister only said, “It sounds tough.”

Claire opened her eyes. “Are you feeling all right? Do you have a fever?”

Nicole shifted in her seat. “No. I'm fine. It's possible that after talking to Lisa I've come to see that maybe your life isn't as princessy as I'd first thought. That there might be actual work involved.”

“Oh, really.” Claire sat up and smiled. “Which would mean you're…”

“What?”

“You know. Say it. If you're not right, you're…”

Nicole shook her head. “Forget it. We're not going there. I'm saying I might have been misinformed. That's as good as you're getting.”

“Wrong,” Claire told her. “The word you're looking for is
wrong.
”

“Never. So you stayed to have dinner with Wyatt?”

“Uh-huh. We went out. Amy's great. I really like her a lot.”

“How do you feel about Wyatt?”

Claire had the sudden sense of stepping into dangerous territory. “He's a great dad. Patient and caring. Those two obviously love each other.”

Nicole studied her for a long time. “They do. Amy's his world.”

“I can really tell. He, uh, isn't seeing anyone, is he?”

Nicole stood. “Why do you care?”

“I don't. I just wondered. He's really nice and it seems like he would have remarried again.”

Nicole's expression hardened. The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. “I can't believe it,” she yelled. “You're attracted to him? No way. You are so not dating him. You can just forget it. He's my friend.
Mine.
Do you hear me? It's bad enough that Jesse slept with Drew. There is no way in hell you're going to sleep with Wyatt.” With fists clenched, Nicole made an abrupt about-face and left the room.

C
LAIRE HAD NEVER BEEN
on a construction site before. She got out of her car and looked for the trailer Wyatt had described. She saw it off to one side, but instead of heading directly toward it, she paused to look at what was going on.

The huge space had been cleared of most of the trees, although there were still several in what she guessed would be backyards. A few of the houses were already framed, while others were little more than stakes pushed into dirt. Big, loud equipment dug out foundations and moved soil.

She'd never thought about all the effort that went in to building a house. Or several houses. It looked complicated, and almost miraculous. How could someone create a house from nothing? How did anyone know what to do first, then second and so on until it was finished? Who figured all that stuff out?

Not a question she was going to get answered just standing here, she reminded herself and walked toward the trailer.

She was about halfway there, when a tall, thin man with a mustache stopped her.

“Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen all morning,” he said with a smile. “I'm Spike. Who are you?”

Spike? She'd never met anyone called Spike before. She took in the tattoos on his arm, his University of Washington T-shirt and the big smile that seemed to welcome her. She appreciated his friendliness.

“I'm Claire. I'm looking after Wyatt's daughter. He forgot to sign a permission slip so I brought it by.”

Spike looked her over. “You're one of those fancy nannies?”

That sounded a whole lot better than an out-of-work, panic-filled piano player. “Sort of.”

“It's nice to meet you, Claire.”

“You, too.”

“I haven't seen you around here before.”

“I've just started looking after Amy. I'm new to Seattle.”

“Need someone to show you around?”

Was this flirting? Was he flirting? She wished she knew more about men and women and how they interacted with each other. She didn't want to say the wrong thing or feel stupid.

“I have a GPS system,” she told him. “I'm doing okay.”

Spike chuckled. “You're doing better than that, darlin'.”

Oh, my. Not sure how to respond, she smiled. “I, ah, need to get this to Wyatt, then back to the school. It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too. We could get a drink sometime.”

She froze in the act of taking a step. Had Spike just asked her out?

She turned back to him. Would it be a date? A real, live date? “That would be nice,” she said, and continued toward the trailer.

Okay, so she wasn't desperately interested in Spike. At least going out with him would be practice, so she could do a better job when she met someone she really liked. Besides, he seemed nice enough. Maybe she was judging him too quickly.

As she approached the trailer, the door flung open. Wyatt stood in the opening, glowering at her.

“Why were you talking to Spike?” he demanded.

“What? I don't know. We were just chatting.”

“It looked like more than that.”

“You're right. We were planning our elopement. We're going to have to wait until his day off.”

Wyatt stepped back and motioned for her to enter the trailer. “You're not good at sarcasm.”

“Give me time, I'll get better.”

He stared at her; his dark eyes seemed to see into her soul. “Did he ask you out?”

Why was Wyatt acting like this? “He mentioned getting a drink.”

Wyatt closed the door behind her. The trailer wasn't huge and most of the space was filled with desks and filing cabinets. Blueprints had been pinned up on the wall, showing the different floor plans. At least she thought that's what they were.

Wyatt stood close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He didn't look happy.

“You don't want to date Spike,” he told her.

Which was true, but she hated being told that by him. “Because you say so?”

“Because he's only been out of prison a couple of months. He's a good worker, but he was convicted for assault. He's on probation now.”

Claire swallowed. Prison? As in incarceration? Okay, then. “I'm sure everyone deserves a second chance,” she said primly, suddenly relieved she hadn't given Spike her phone number. Not that he'd asked.

“He's also married.”

“What? Are you serious? Married?”

That was so unfair, she thought, suddenly furious. Not that she was all that interested in dating Spike, but married? At this rate she was never going to have a relationship, never going to have sex. She was a freak on too many levels, she thought as she stared at her hands. Why couldn't she be normal, like other people?

“You sound upset,” Wyatt told her. “Is his wife going to get in the way of your plans?”

“Don't be mean,” she said, suddenly feeling defeated. “I'm not interested in Spike, which you probably could have guessed. I don't care that he's married, it's just…”

This was so her life, she thought sadly. Where had she gone wrong? How was she going to make things different?

“It's just what?” he asked.

She shrugged. “He was interested. Maybe. That was nice.”

“You enjoy ex-convicts coming on to you?”

“Of course not. It's just no one ever asks me out. Even for a drink. I managed to go through life with men looking the other way.”

She braced herself for his scorn, or maybe an explanation of what was wrong with her.

Instead he folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah, right.”

“It's true. I don't date. Ever. I'm rarely home. I don't travel with an orchestra so I don't meet a lot of guys there. Besides, most of them are total players or gay. The good ones are already married. Anyway, when I'm on the road, I'm going from event to event. I don't have time to meet anyone let alone form a relationship. The person I see the most is Lisa, my manager, and believe me, she's
not
my type.”

He stared at her, not speaking. She sighed.

“I'm not making this up,” she said. “If I do manage to meet someone seminice or normal, he's usually completely intimidated by me. It's the fame or the money or whatever, I'm not sure. But it's terrible. It's not like I'm not trying, you know. I want to meet a great guy. I want to be involved.” She glanced toward the door. “Maybe not with Spike.”

“You think?”

She glared at him. “You're not taking me seriously, are you?”

“Not really.”

“That is just so typical. You criticize me all you want, but do you try to see my side of things? Do you care about—”

She was still talking when Wyatt moved in, put both hands on her face, leaned down and kissed her.

The feel of his lips on hers was so startling that she said, “What are you—”

“Be quiet.”

It seemed like really good advice.

His mouth was firm, yet amazingly gentle. Warm, too, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed. He kept the kiss light, but not soft. As if he was giving her all the time she needed to get used to what he was doing.

He tilted his head, bringing more of his lips in contact with hers. He brushed back and forth, exploring, teasing. His kiss seemed to steal her breath and make her brain fuzzy.

Heat blossomed between them. Heat and need and a strong desire to be as close to him as possible.

She raised her hands, not exactly sure what to do with them, then rested her fingertips on his shoulders. He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her against him until they were touching everywhere.

It was better than she could have imagined. He was strong and hard and totally male. He smelled good, too. Clean and masculine with a hint of something outdoorsy.

He touched the tip of his tongue to her bottom lip. Even she was able to recognize the request for what it was and parted for him. He eased into her mouth, exploring as he went. Everywhere he touched, she felt tingles.

His tongue brushed against hers, which made her whole body clench. She met him stroke for stroke, melting on the inside, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep from sinking to the floor.

He held her against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest. When he moved his hands up and down her back, she wished she could feel his touch on her bare skin.

They kissed again and again. Individual cells deep inside of her began to whimper. When he broke the kiss, she nearly cried out in protest.

Fortunately, he wasn't done with her. He pressed his mouth to her jawline, then down her neck. He moved to her ear, where he sucked on her lobe before licking the sensitive skin just beneath. She shivered and her breasts swelled, as did that place between her legs. She wanted and needed and was prepared to beg.

Finally Wyatt straightened and looked at her. She saw fire in his eyes. Thank God she wasn't the only one affected.

She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted whatever he was offering.

“We should go out,” he said.

“On a d-date?” she stammered.

He nodded.

A real date? The two of them? Her insides quivered at the thought.

“That would be great,” she said, hoping she wasn't as flushed as she felt. “You're not seeing anyone, are you?”

“I wouldn't have asked you out if I was. Or kissed you. Just for the record, Nicole and I have never gone out.”

She hadn't asked but it was good to know. “I'd like to go out with you,” she said. More than like. Especially if there was going to be more kissing.

“Friday? Amy's spending the night with a friend.”

“Sounds great.”

“I'll pick you up at seven.”

“I'll be ready.”

Wow. So that's what it was like to be asked out. She should do this more often.

She started to leave, then remembered the permission slip and pulled it out of her pocket. He signed it and she left. Technically, she walked to her car, but it felt a whole lot more like floating.

She was going on a date! With Wyatt. Now all she had to do was figure out how to tell Nicole.

 

“T
HESE ARE AMAZING
,” Claire said as she grabbed another onion ring. “I've never tasted anything this good. Ever.”

Jesse picked up her burger. “See. Not everything good happens in New York.”

“I never thought it did,” Claire said as she looked around at the colorful interior of Kidd Valley, the burger place where Jesse had suggested they meet. “I may have to have these flown in for my next concert.” She took another bite of the onion ring, chewed and swallowed. “I've never made any crazy food demands. I could start with these.”

“They won't travel well.”

“You're right. Which is seriously disappointing.” Claire licked her fingers. “So what's going on?”

“Nothing.” Jesse didn't look at her. “I just wanted to say hi.”

Claire thought there might be another reason for Jesse's call suggesting they get together. “Are you doing all right?”

“I guess. I'm keeping busy and, ah, stuff. Nicole's still mad, huh?”

“I'm the wrong person to ask. We're not exactly sharing bondy moments.”

From Claire's perspective, they'd been avoiding each other since the fight about Wyatt. Which was going to create a really big problem. She had found someone she wanted to go out with. He wasn't married, involved with anyone else, or a convicted felon. So Nicole was going to have to get over her hissy fit and accept the relationship, such as it was. At least that was the plan.

“But she's okay,” Jesse said. “She's getting better, right?”

“She's moving around better. I think she's going back to the bakery next week.”

“But she's still mad at me?”

Jesse looked miserable. Claire wished she had better news to tell her.

“You slept with her husband. That's going to take some time for her to get over.” Worse, Nicole had walked in on them. She had a clear visual of the betrayal. That couldn't be easy.

“I didn't sleep with him,” Jesse said as she slumped in her seat. “It's not what she thinks.” She held up her hand. “Don't say it. My shirt was off, so I must have been having sex with him. I'm bad, he's bad.” Jesse shook her head.

Claire fought frustration. Why couldn't Jesse understand that the fact that Nicole had interrupted and kept things from going all the way didn't make the situation right? The intent was there. The semi-nakedness was there.

“I have a boyfriend,” Jesse said. “Matt. I love him. I would never hurt him. But then I found a ring. An engagement ring. Matt wants to marry me.”