Redeeming Claire

by Cynthia Rutledge

  “Makes you mad?” he said with an impish grin.

  “Something like that.” She glanced at him through lowered lashes, unable to keep a tiny smile from tugging at her lips. “Actually it makes me want to kiss you.”

  His grin widened, and he tossed a couple of bills on the table. “C’mon.” He grabbed Claire’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. I want to hear more about this. Maybe I can even use it in a sermon sometime.”

  “Are you teasing me again, Tony?” Claire slid out of the booth and followed him out of the café.

  “I hope so.” He chuckled. “That’s my intention.”

  They took the long way home through the park. Claire was surprised she didn’t see anyone she knew. Tony just smiled and claimed that he’d paid them all to leave. She couldn’t resist. She kissed him. And then, when he laughed, she kissed him again. Her lips were still tingling when they reached the bed-and-breakfast.

  “I’m going to have to run.” Tony ran his thumb lightly over the back of her hand. “I’m already late for a meeting.”

  Claire watched him drive away before heading into the house. She hummed a little love song that had been on the radio when she woke up, its upbeat tempo matching her mood.

  “My mom’s looking for you.” Like a splash of cold water, April’s voice brought Claire back to reality.

  “Did she say why?” Claire raised a brow.

  “I dunno. I didn’t ask. Not my business.” Something in the girl’s eyes told Claire she knew more than she was saying.

  “You must have some idea.” Claire pinned the girl with a sharp gaze.

  April shrugged. “It’s probably about that wedding reception she’s catering Friday. Her helper backed out on her this morning, and I think she’s looking for an extra pair of hands.”

  Friday night? Claire groaned.

  “Why can’t you help?” Claire said bluntly. “Your hands look perfectly capable to me.”

  “Because.” April smiled smugly. “My hands will be with me in Des Moines that night. Me and my friends have tickets to Froggy Way.”

  Even though she and Tony didn’t have plans yet for Friday night, she knew they’d probably go out. After all, how many more Friday nights did they have left? “I’m sure there’s someone else that could help.”

  “Yeah, right.” April snorted. “Do you think she’d be asking you if there were?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just what it sounds like.” April met her gaze. “What are you going to do, make her beg?”

  “Beg?” A lump formed in the pit of Claire’s stomach.

  “Well, you’re not really the volunteering kind.” April laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. “You act like it’s such a big deal when you do any little thing.”

  “So do you.” The childish reply slipped past Claire’s lips.

  “But I’m her daughter.” The girl’s voice rang with the arrogance of youth. “You’re a guest who’s living here rent free. If you weren’t Pastor’s fiancée you’d be long gone.”

  The lump in Claire’s stomach turned rock hard, and for some reason it affected her ability to breathe normally. “Did your mother say that?”

  April had the grace to look slightly abashed. “She might not have said it. But I can’t imagine why she’d put up with you for any other reason.”

  “Tell me, April. What bothers you most? The fact that no guy has given you a second glance since I moved in? Or that your mother’s finally expecting you to shoulder some of the responsibility?”

  April stepped back as if she’d been slapped, and her blue eyes turned frosty. One of her comments, Claire wasn’t sure which, had definitely struck a nerve.

  Good. Maybe now you know how I feel.

  It wasn’t a very charitable thought, but Claire wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. April’s words had hurt. Even more because some of what the girl had said was true.

  Although Claire’s competitive spirit wouldn’t allow her to do shoddy work, she certainly hadn’t put forth top effort. And April was right. She never volunteered to do more. But surely the woman wasn’t just keeping her on because she didn’t want to offend Tony. If that was the case, Claire would have to leave. She’d never been one to overstay her welcome.

  But Mrs. Sandy had taken her in when she was penniless and had nowhere else to go. Hurt feelings aside, if the woman needed her help, how could she walk out on her now?

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, and suddenly Claire was face-to-face with Mrs. Sandy.

  “Why, Claire, I didn’t expect you back so early.”

  “Tony had a meeting at the church.” Thankfully her voice didn’t betray her churning emotions.

  “April, could you go check on the laundry?” Mrs. Sandy smiled at her daughter. “I’d like to talk to Claire privately.”

  “Sure, glad to help.” April smiled sweetly, slanting a sideways glance at Claire.

  “Is something wrong?” Claire said the moment April left the room.

  “Don’t look so solemn.” Mrs. Sandy laughed and wrapped her arm around Claire, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s nothing serious. Did you and Tony have a nice time this morning?”

  “We did,” Claire said, remembering the coffee cake and the kisses.

  “I don’t suppose after all that coffee I could interest you in some tea?”

  Claire shook her head. “None for me, thanks.”

  She followed Mrs. Sandy into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Apprehension coursed through her veins, and Claire wished the woman would just say what she had to say and be done with it.

  But Mrs. Sandy seemed in no hurry. The landlady busied herself pouring a glass of tea from the refrigerator. Not until she had added a couple of ice cubes and wiped the counter free of water spots did she finally pull out a chair and sit down.

  “I’m just going to go ahead and say this.” Mrs. Sandy’s expression stilled and grew serious. “I’ve got a business proposition for you.”

  Claire stared, speechless. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. “A business proposition?”

  Mrs. Sandy plopped a cube of sugar into her glass and stirred it into the tea with her spoon. “I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I supplement my income by doing some catering on the side.”

  “What kind of catering?” When Claire had worked for her father, one of her duties had been to make the arrangements for all his corporate parties.

  “I’ve pretty much limited myself to wedding receptions, anniversary and graduation parties.” Mrs. Sandy took a sip of the tea and set it on the table. “But lately I’ve been getting more calls for dinner parties and business events.”

  Claire marveled at the woman’s stamina. She would have thought owning the bed-and-breakfast and raising a teenage daughter would have been more than enough for anyone. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

  “I do, but…” Mrs. Sandy leaned forward, moving her tea aside. “I’d like to expand. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I think you’re just the person I’ve been looking for.”

  “Me?” Claire couldn’t have been more surprised. Mrs. Sandy knew she couldn’t cook. They laughed about it often. “How could I help you?”

  Mrs. Sandy raised a hand. “Before we go any further, I want us to be clear on one thing. I’m not asking you to help me. I want you to be my partner.”

  “You’re kidding.” Claire was totally confused. “Aren’t you?”

  Laughter flowed from Mrs. Sandy’s lips, and she patted Claire’s hand. “Oh, my dear, I’m so bad at this.”

  Claire smiled.

  “The catering has helped me make ends meet since my husband died. The problem is, with running this place I’m limited to when I can go out and meet with the clients and get everything arranged. Doing it over the phone doesn’t cut it.”

  “So where would I come in?” In spite of knowing she wouldn’t be around long enough to see this project through to fruition, Claire couldn’t help the adr
enaline surge.

  “You’d do everything else from meeting with the clients to coordinating the display of the food.” Mrs. Sandy eyes sparkled. “I’d do the majority of the cooking and baking.”

  Ideas tumbled fast and furious through Claire’s brain. She’d always loved throwing elaborate parties. This wouldn’t even seem like work.

  “I know that as a minister’s wife, you’ll have certain responsibilities,” Mrs. Sandy said. “But we can work around those.”

  Minister’s wife.

  Her heart plummeted. In the rush of excitement she’d forgotten one important fact. She’d be leaving soon. But Mrs. Sandy had done so much for her already, and this was a great opportunity. How could she just turn her down flat?

  “Let me think about it,” Claire said, trying to act as if she didn’t notice the disappointment in Mrs. Sandy’s eyes. “In the meantime, April said you have a function Friday night you might need some help with.”

  Mrs. Sandy nodded. “The Johnson-Kinisaw reception.”

  “Okay, how about if I volunteer to help and we see what kind of team we make?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” the woman said immediately.

  Claire hated herself for putting the hope back in the landlady’s eyes, but she wanted to repay Mrs. Sandy for her kindness, and helping her out until she left seemed the best way to do that.

  “But I’d like to ask a little favor of you.”

  “Sure, anything.” Mrs. Sandy didn’t even qualify her answer.

  “Don’t say yes so quickly,” Claire warned. “Because this is a big one.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want you to teach me to cook.”

  “How is it?”

  Tony had barely taken a bite of the biscuit before Claire was in his face, her eyes sparkling like black diamonds.

  He paused. Never before had she been concerned about the food he ate, but then again never had he tasted a biscuit like this one. He chewed slowly, forced a chunk down his throat, then washed it down with a big drink of water. “Good.”

  “Claire made them herself,” Mrs. Sandy said proudly.

  Now it all made sense. The two women giggling in the kitchen before the meal. Claire’s anxious look when he’d taken a biscuit and it had slipped from his fingers and dropped to the plate with a resounding plunk.

  “They’re great-looking biscuits,” he said glancing at the overflowing basket.

  The biscuits were a perfect example of how looks could be deceiving. Golden brown, they could easily have been an advertisement for baking powder biscuits as good as Grandma used to make. Unfortunately they tasted like Grandma had made them herself…fifty years ago.

  Tony wondered what had made Claire try her hand at baking. Like anyone, he enjoyed good food. But his mother had been a career woman, and the only time he’d had home cooking was when he’d spent time at his grandmother’s or when the cook was in her down-home cooking phase.

  If Claire thought he expected her to be another Martha Stewart, she was mistaken. He didn’t have any such expectations for his wife….

  Tony brought himself up short. This was getting out of hand. He’d started to believe his own lies. And the startling thing was, he found himself wishing they weren’t lies.

  Why couldn’t it happen?

  His heart picked up speed at the thought. He and Claire? Together forever? Could it possibly happen?

  He had some serious thinking to do. And he was going to need his energy. Tony smiled at Claire and held out his hand for the bread basket. “Could you pass me another biscuit, please? They’re delicious.”

  Chapter Ten

  Claire sat back in the chair and took a sip of the apricot tea. Crisp and cool, it soothed her parched throat. Her friend was indeed the consummate hostess.

  Tonight, Dottie’s smile just wouldn’t quit. The Bible study had been a complete success. Despite the fact that it was a beautiful evening, attendance had been good. Claire glanced around the room and counted ten women who’d stayed for the social hour and refreshments.

  “I’m glad you stuck around.” Jocelyn pulled up a chair next to Claire. “We haven’t talked in forever.”

  Claire smiled. As she recalled, she and Jocelyn had gone shopping and had lunch together just two days before. “I’m sorry I was late.”

  “You didn’t miss anything.” Jocelyn brushed back a strand of hair, and Claire couldn’t help but admire her friend’s nails. She resisted the urge to glance at her own less than perfect ones. “Unless you were dying to hear everyone talk about their kids. I, of course, found the part about potty training positively riveting.”

  The light sarcasm in her friend’s voice came through loud and clear, and once again Claire had to smile.

  “I tried to save you a seat by me, but Rachel snagged it at the last minute,” Jocelyn continued.

  “Rachel?” Claire assumed Jocelyn was talking about the woman who had sat on her right. “The blonde?”

  Jocelyn nodded.

  “Do I know her?”

  Her friend paused and thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. She just moved back to Millville, although she wasn’t gone that long. Maybe six months or so.”

  “She seems nice,” Claire said grudgingly. It wasn’t very Christian of her, but Claire couldn’t help wanting to find fault with Rachel. Maybe it was because the blonde fit in so well with the group and Claire felt like an outsider. Whatever the reason, she shifted her gaze and studied the woman with a critical eye.

  Rachel was pretty enough, if you liked that blond-haired, blue-eyed farmer’s daughter type. Personally, Claire found that wholesome look tiresome. Especially when it wasn’t well done.

  The woman’s shoulder-length hair needed a good undercut while her brows screamed to be shaped. Her dress at least was adequate. Claire had a similar one hanging in her closet, and it was one of her favorites. But Rachel was built differently than Claire, so the style wasn’t nearly as flattering on the blonde.

  “What are you smiling about?” Jocelyn leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest.

  For a second, Claire thought about telling her. A month ago she wouldn’t have hesitated. But listening to Tony’s sermons all these weeks had apparently had an impact.

  Claire shook her head, unable to believe she was being this good. Before long she wouldn’t even recognize herself. “I guess you’re just going to have to call me Pollyanna.”

  “What?” Confusion clouded Jocelyn’s gaze. “Call you who?”

  Claire laughed. “Forget it.” She set her glass on a coaster. “Tell me what you have planned for Saturday.”

  “I’m so excited.” Jocelyn’s face brightened. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

  “What’s on the agenda?”

  “Cards.”

  Claire’s smile froze. A card party? Was she serious?

  “Look, I know it sounds corny but it’s the best I can do here. Besides, Adam thinks it’ll be great fun. And that’s not all.” Jocelyn paused dramatically. “After we finish with cards, we’re going to do a pie exchange.”

  “Yeah, right.” Claire rolled her eyes.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Uh-huh.” Claire shook her head. Did her friend really think she’d believe that? “Next you’ll be telling me we’re going to follow that with a rousing game of bingo.”

  Jocelyn chuckled. “When you say it that way it does sound ridiculous. But remember this is Millville, Iowa.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” Claire smiled ruefully. “Okay, so tell me, what is a pie exchange?”

  “You can’t laugh.”

  Claire crossed her fingers and smiled.

  “And try to keep an open mind.” Jocelyn took a sip of her tea. “What happens is all the women bring a different kind of pie to the party. At the end of the evening, we cut them into small slices so everybody can try at least two or three kinds.”

  Claire raised a brow. “Sounds…interesting.”

  “It took me a whil
e to get used to it, too,” Jocelyn said with a smile. “But it’s the thing to do. Isn’t that right, Rachel?”

  Claire didn’t realize Rachel had come over. The blonde pulled up a chair and sat, apparently deciding Jocelyn’s question gave her an excuse to join the group. “Isn’t what right?”

  “I was telling Claire that everyone has a pie exchange when they throw a party,” Jocelyn said.

  “She’s right.” Rachel smiled at Claire, her voice soft and pleasant. “Of course, I love pie.”

  Claire glanced from Rachel to Jocelyn, unable to believe they were actually at a party, discussing something as mundane as pie.

  “Rachel is a terrific cook,” Jocelyn told Claire. “Wait until you taste her sour cream peach. She always gets a purple ribbon at the state fair. It’s incredible.”

  Dottie pulled up a chair and sat down. “What are you three talking about?”

  “Nothing.” Claire smiled brightly at Dottie.

  “We’re talking about what a great cook Rachel is,” Jocelyn said. “She’s almost as good as Mrs. Sandy.”

  Claire stifled a groan.

  “I heard Mrs. Sandy might be expanding her catering business.” Jocelyn looked at Rachel. “You should see if she needs help. With your skills you’d be perfect.”

  Indignation coursed through Claire, and it was all she could do not to blurt out that she was the one who would be helping Mrs. Sandy. That it was her skills the woman needed. Only the realization that she was also the one who would be soon gone stopped her.

  “I might talk to her about that,” Rachel said. “Is she coming Saturday?”

  “No.” Jocelyn shook her head. “She had other plans.”

  “Who is coming?” Rachel asked.

  “Let’s see.” Jocelyn thought for a moment. “Besides Adam and me, there’s you, Dottie, Tom, Claire, Tony—”

  “Tony?” Rachel interrupted.

  “Tony Karelli. He’s the new minister.” Jocelyn smiled at Claire. “You haven’t met him yet. He’s Cl—”

  “Oh, but I have met him,” Rachel said. “I was out jogging today, and we sort of ran into each other. Now that is one good-looking man.”

  “He’s adorable.” Jocelyn gave Claire a wink. “What do you think, Claire? Is Tony cute?”