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  "We'll let you get back to your meal. Nice to meet you all. "Blake smiled that winning grin of his.

  Claire followed Blake to his truck. He unlocked the passenger side door and opened it. "You were saying . . ."

  Claire slid into the seat. "What do you mean?"

  Blake leaned against the door. "You needed a job and like that, you may have one. Isn't God good?" He closed the passenger door, walked around the truck, and got inside.

  "But I haven't met his mother yet." Claire raised her eyebrows. "She may be impossible to work for. Or she may not like me."

  Blake chuckled. "So much for optimism."

  Comfortable silence filled the five- minute car ride back to Nancy and Tom's house. Claire grinned. A glimmer of hope flickered inside her. Soon, she might have a roof over her head, her car repaired, and a job. Things were looking up. After waving goodbye to Blake, she walked into the house. Tom was fast asleep on the family room couch. She tiptoed down the hall to her room and saw a note attached to her door. Claire recognized Tom's handwriting.

  Vivian changed her mind. She said there's too much hurt from the past. She's decided not to come.

  14

  Michael woke to the sound of the alarm clock. It was Saturday. Before he said a word, Sandy popped out of bed and raced to turn it off. Bless her for trying. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Sandy, on the other hand, strolled into the bathroom to take a shower. His wife was looking forward to this day. Sandy was meeting Julia at her apartment and the two of them would go see the florist to select the wedding flowers, and then meet with the caterer to decide on the reception menu. It was a good day for mother and daughter to have fun. Sandy had impeccable taste, but she didn't always look at the price tag before making a purchase.

  Michael flipped over in bed and stared at the ceiling. He wanted his daughter's marriage to last a long time—a lifetime, but did the flowers and food for the wedding need to cost more than a few months' rent on the couple's first apartment? He chided himself for the thought. Julia was his daughter— his only child. Of course, he'd give her the wedding of her dreams. He would trust his wife with the decisions—the dress, flowers, food, and whatever else they needed to pull off a wedding they'd be proud of.

  Michael sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He twisted left and then right to get the kinks out of his back. He was tired of worrying about money. He had other things to think about, like picking up his ornery mother at the airport and bringing her home to meet Claire, the young woman who reminded him of Emily.

  Claire glanced at her watch. 3:45 p.m. Hopefully, Blake would pull up any minute. He had offered to take her to Michael's house to meet Michael's mother. Will we like each other? Can we get along? Will they hire me? Her stomach twisted. Claire couldn't wait to get out of the house. Nancy had been in tears all morning talking to Vivian on the phone. Apparently, whatever had happened between the two, emotions ran deep. Claire hoped they'd resolve the problem soon. She needed a roommate, but more important, she knew Nancy loved her sister and wanted her back in her life.

  The slam of a car door sounded. Claire pulled back the curtain and looked out. Blake's truck was parked out front, and he was approaching the door. She grabbed her jeans jacket and purse from the couch as the doorbell rang. "It's Blake," she called.

  Nancy came out of her bedroom and joined her in the front room. "Be yourself. I'm sure Michael will hire you." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. "When you come home, we'll talk about the rental, okay?" Her red-rimmed eyes glistened.

  Claire's heart ached for Nancy. "Okay."

  When Claire opened the door, Blake was standing on the front porch. "Ready?"

  "Ready as I'll ever be." Claire spun around to say goodbye, but instead heard the click of the door to the master bedroom. She turned to face Blake. "Nancy's had a hard day."

  "Anything any of us can help her with?"

  Blake was not only handsome on the outside, but also his gentle spirit radiated from within. "No. It's something she has to work out on her own."

  The air was crisp and the sun shone brightly, drying up the wet roads from the day before. Claire couldn't believe the beautiful trees—evergreens, Monterey pines, and eucalyptus flanked the highway as they headed toward Michael's home. They turned left on Freedom Boulevard, and made a few more quick turns before coming to Downing Drive. Michael and his wife lived in a beautiful neighborhood. The houses had space between them—more than Claire had ever seen. She couldn't picture Michael, a businessman, taking care of the yard. Of course, he had a gardener—someone who took care of the small yard at the rental property and probably his larger property, as well. Michael's house sat back from the road, a looming two-story structure with lots of windows.

  "We're right on time." Blake's voice interrupted her thoughts as he pulled up the long driveway.

  Claire took a deep breath and rubbed her hands together.

  Blake cut the engine and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Lord, give Claire courage and peace. And help Michael's mother to see Claire the way I see her. In your name, amen."

  Claire looked into Blake's eyes. "Is that a good thing?"

  He nodded and winked. "Come on. You'll be fine."

  The doorbell rang. Four o'clock on the nose. "She's prompt. "Michael set the newspaper down on the coffee table. His mother sat on the corner cushion of the couch twiddling her thumbs. He strode across the room to the entry and opened the front door. "Hello, come on in." Michael lowered his voice. "My mother is in the family room. She's quite nervous."

  Claire fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, looking a little nervous too.

  Blake put his hand on Claire's shoulder. "We'll follow you."

  "All right, this way." Michael couldn't help but notice what a striking couple Claire and Blake made. Of course, they had barely met. Blake was a good guy who enjoyed helping people, even when he was in need of help himself. And Claire. Well, he'd make sure he kept his contact with her to a minimum. No need to stir up the past. He led them into the family room. "Mother, I'd like you to meet Claire."

  "Geraldine?" Claire's eyes opened wide, and her hands shot up to her mouth.

  "Claire James? Is that you, dear?" She squinted and leaned forward.

  "Yes." Claire raced to Michael's mother and wrapped her arms around her.

  "I had forgotten you two would know each other!" Michael, his mouth open, stood next to Blake. "Remind me again how you're acquaintances."

  "Michael, dear, you remember Claire's mother, Emily James." She gave a tentative smile, revealing teeth that had aged well. "Claire lived in the same apartment building as I did—the one on Gray Street—you remember."

  Michael could swear Claire sat up straighter on the couch, her eyes fixed intently on him at the mention of Emily's name.

  Geraldine tapped Claire's leg. "How is that beautiful sister of yours? Holly, right?"

  "Haley's fine." Claire glanced up at Blake and smiled.

  "What are you doing here in Santa Cruz?" Her brows rose.

  "I moved here."

  "Really? I'm moving too. My friends are passing away one by one in that retirement community. I need to hang around younger folks. Like you and your boyfriend over there." She pointed.

  Claire's cheeks instantly showed pink. "Oh. Blake's not my boyfriend. He's my new neighbor . . . or at least I hope he'll be. I want to rent Michael's house on Saxon Avenue." She turned to Michael. "It looks like the woman I wanted to room with— Nancy's sister Vivian—isn't coming after all."

  Michael sat down on the recliner. Emotions twisted his insides. He motioned for Blake to take a seat in the chair to his right. "What do you mean?"

  "Family problems, I hear." Claire averted her eyes from him and looked down at her hands clamped tight on her lap. "I'll need to find another roommate. But I can talk to you more about that later. I'm here to see if I can help with your mother's care."

  Geraldine's chest puffed out. "Oh, I can take care of myself
."

  "Now, Mother, you've been falling . . . and I know you need a little help with certain tasks."

  "I don't want to be a bother." She touched her thinning white hair with gnarled fingers.

  "You know we want you here. We wouldn't have suggested you move in with us unless we wanted you to." Michael leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. Did he? What would it be like to have his mother under his roof? Getting ready for the wedding would make their lives difficult enough.

  "Where's Sandy? I don't see her here to welcome me. "Geraldine made a sweeping gesture with her arms. "You know a two-week visit is enough for both Sandy and me. We'll fight like two cats after a while."

  "Mom, you're exaggerating. You and Sandy have always gotten along—as good as a mother-in-law can with her only son's wife." He grinned, suddenly aware of the others in the room. "Let's discuss this later. . . ."

  "No, dear. We'll discuss this now." She motioned for Claire to get her walker. "Help me up, Claire."

  Claire did as she was asked. Michael could see Claire's caregiver instincts kicking in.

  "Why couldn't I live in the rental with Claire? We'd be out of your hair so that you and Sandy could plan this wedding without worrying about me." She stood slightly stooped over, holding on to the handles of her walker. "I always loved that small house. It's the perfect size for two people. I don't think I have much more time in this world, and I would like to be close to the ocean and the salty air."

  Claire's brows furrowed and she bit her lip.

  "You know I have enough money to pay for the rent and for Claire too. I've been pinching my pennies, unlike most young folks today." Mother held tightly to her walker.

  The truth of his mother's statement caused a lump to lodge in his throat. He wished he had saved up for his daughter's wedding years ago. "Mom, I can't expect you to pay full rent. "Even though he needed her to.

  "I'm not a freeloader, Son. But you may invite me over for dinner anytime you like." A smile flashed across her face.

  Would Claire enjoy living with his mother? Did she like the idea? Of course, the rental was his home and he could have anyone he wanted living there. Having his mother and Claire in the house on Saxon Avenue seemed like a wild idea, but why not? It would be nice to have his mother close by, yet not living in his home. And as much as Sandy loved his mother, after a couple of weeks they would be ready to have their own space.

  But then again, could his mother keep the secret? She had all these years. Would living with Claire change all that?

  "Michael, dear, you look lost in your own thoughts. Do you have anything to say?" Mother scooted herself closer to him, accidentally hooking a leg of the walker on Blake's foot. She started to tumble forward when Blake caught her left arm and Claire caught her right.

  Michael stood and extended his hand. "Claire, you've got the job. My mother needs a woman like you to keep an eye on her." The second the words came out of his mouth, Michael regretted them. Why had he made such a hasty decision? He hadn't even done a background check.

  Geraldine harrumphed. "I'm not a child."

  "No, Mother." Michael put both hands on her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. "But you do need looking after. Let's go to the house and discuss the details."

  Michael sat at the head of the table drinking a cup of decaf coffee. Sandy had prepared an amazing dinner—steak, potatoes au gratin, French-style green beans, and cherry pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. His wife had always gone out of her way to make a good impression on his mother. He listened to his daughter describe the latest wedding plans.

  "The flowers are going to be fabulous." Julia's excitement was contagious. "My bridesmaids will carry bouquets with three shades of pink roses, green hydrangea, and camellia. My bouquet will have the same flowers, but with white roses sprinkled among the pink ones."

  Her grandmother took a forkful of cherry pie and put it to her mouth. "Sounds beautiful, dear."

  "We also ordered my wedding dress. You remember, Dad. The one Mom showed you from the magazine." Julia tossed her jet black hair behind her shoulder. "Mom says it fits me perfectly. We even cried when I tried it on."

  "Well, you looked like a princess." Sandy dabbed at the corner of her eye. "I know David will love it."

  "He'd love any dress as long as you're wearing it." Michael hid a wince, remembering the cost of the gown. "But of course being your wedding day and all, I'm sure the dress you picked out is perfect."

  "It is, Dad." Julia smiled. "But that's not all. We booked Seascape Resort for the reception—"

  Michael choked on the last bit of coffee. Seascape Resort. One of the most expensive places in the area. Couldn't she have a nice, simple outdoor event? He knew an outdoor wedding would be too risky with the weather they'd been having lately. How about a church wedding with a reception in the gym? No, definitely not his daughter's style—or David's, for that matter. Why was he being such a tightwad? This was his baby. His beautiful little girl. He glanced at his wife. Should he be completely honest with Sandy about their financial situation? No. He'd always provided for his family. And he'd come up with the money now.

  "Dad, are you all right?" Julia looked like a six-year-old with her doe-like eyes and fear etched across her face.

  "I'm fine." Michael said between coughs. "Your wedding sounds like it will be amazing. Excuse me, I've got to go make a few phone calls." He stood and headed toward his office.

  "Honey, are you sure you're okay?" Sandy asked. "Do you need a glass of water?"

  "No, thank you." Michael turned and held on to the wall and coughed. "Dinner was wonderful. Now, I've got to get some work done."

  Mother, still seated, stacked the dirty plates. "That son of mine always hides behind his work, doesn't he?"

  Michael leaned against the doorframe. "I'm still in the room."

  "I know, dear." A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Sandy, did I tell you I'm going to move into the rental with a darling young woman named Claire? Claire James. I used to live near her in L.A."

  Michael shook his head. His mother had a way of changing the subject.

  Sandy brought Mother her walker. "That's wonderful. I'm sure Claire will be a good helper."

  She hoisted herself to standing. "Thank you, dear."

  His mother swayed left, then steadied herself. It did Michael's mind good to know Claire would be taking care of her.

  "Here, Grandma, let me carry those dishes for you." Julia stood, grabbed the stack of white china, and headed toward the kitchen.

  "Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the family room while I clean up the kitchen?" Sandy picked up a couple of serving dishes. "Then we'll get you settled in the guest bedroom. I bought you a new comforter. It's blue, your favorite color."

  "You didn't need to do that. But I appreciate it all the same."

  "Feel free to take it with you to the house on Saxon Avenue. When are you moving in?" Sandy asked over her shoulder.

  "Tomorrow."

  Sandy's brows shot up. "So soon? We don't get to visit for at least a few days?"

  "I can't wait to walk to the end of the bluff and smell that ocean air. Claire is going to meet me there in the morning. We worked out all the arrangements." With slow and deliberate steps, his mother made it to the family room. Michael helped her sit down in the same place she had earlier that afternoon—on the corner cushion of the sofa.

  He thought back to the conversation he had had with Claire while his mother looked around the rental home. They agreed she was to assist with household chores, help prepare meals, run errands, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and supervise medications. In exchange, she'd receive a small monthly paycheck from his mother plus room and board.

  Mother reached over and grabbed the newspaper. She thumbed through it and found the crossword puzzle. "Got a pen on you?"

  His work pen—the one with the words Crown Real Estate engraved on it—rested in his shirt pocket, where it always did. "Here you
go."

  "Thanks, dear. Don't you have work to do?" She smiled at him over the top of her glasses.

  Michael's mind whirled as he headed to his office. So many changes. Julia was getting married, his mother would soon be living near him, and then there was Claire. A young woman who made him think of Emily and all the feelings he thought he'd stuffed deep down inside.

  15

  Claire lay back on her bed in Nancy's home a few hours after Blake dropped her off. He had offered to make her dinner, but Claire didn't feel up to it. She had a lot on her mind. Nancy was at work again, and Tom sat in the family room watching a football game. Cold pizza had satisfied her hunger pangs.

  Grabbing her cell phone, she called her sister. Suddenly she missed Haley and everything familiar to her. So much had happened since leaving L.A.

  "Hello?"

  "It's me."

  "Claire, it's good to hear your voice." Haley sniffed, then coughed.

  "Are you sick?" Claire sat up. She fingered the edge of the quilt on the bed.

  "No. Nothing like that."

  Claire heard the apprehension in her sister's tone. Something wasn't right. "Are you upset? Please, Haley tell me what's wrong . . . has Mark hurt you?"

  "No!" Haley yelled in Claire's ear, then softened her voice. "I'm pregnant."

  A knot formed in the pit of Claire's stomach. It was bad enough that Haley had to endure living under the same roof as Mark. Now, an innocent baby would fall victim. "That's great, right?" She attempted to sound positive.

  Silence filled the line. She stood and walked to the window, pushing back the curtain. Solar lights lit up the twin palm trees out front. It was a beautiful evening, but not in Haley's world. Claire felt the need to say something—anything.

  "Oh, Haley, your body will get back in shape after the baby's born. Knowing you, you'll probably wear your pre-pregnancy jeans out of the hospital—with your favorite heels." Why was she ignoring the obvious? Mark was an abusive jerk.