Sweet Talk

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Claire waited until she was sure Wyatt wasn’t going to show up, then made breakfast herself and carried it upstairs. She found her sister awake, which was a surprise. Every time she’d checked on Nicole the previous day, she’d been asleep, or pretending to sleep.

“You’re still here, I see,” Nicole said by way of greeting.

“Are you always this crabby in the morning, or is it me bringing out the worst in you?”

“You get all the credit.”

“Lucky me.”

She set the tray on the nightstand. Nicole looked over the simple meal.

“Thank you,” she said through obviously gritted teeth.

Claire was so proud, she could have floated. “The oatmeal is really good. I made it myself.”

“Two ingredients, including water. Very impressive.”

Claire refused to let her sister’s sarcasm spoil her happy mood. This was her first real breakfast and it had turned out with only one try. Yay, her. Today oatmeal, tomorrow, a sandwich!

Nicole reached for the bowl. “I thought maybe you were leaving.”

“No, sorry. I’m here until you’re back on your feet.” She thought about Jesse’s unexplained absence. “Unless you want me to call Jesse and ask her to come.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Nicole’s gaze turned icy. “Jesse is not welcome here.”

Okay, so there was a problem. Claire had already guessed as much. “When did you two stop speaking?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“What did she do?”

“What part of my previous statement didn’t you understand? She’s a born liar and a cheat. She lied to you about me wanting you here and she—” Nicole dropped her spoon back into the bowl. “Just go.”

Claire assumed she meant from the bedroom rather than the house. Either way she stayed in place. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s twenty-two and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Claire wanted to understand the problem, but she had a feeling that pushing wasn’t going to help. “You need to eat something.You’ll get better faster if you do.”

“Motivation. That’s good.” She took a small taste of the oatmeal. “Brown sugar?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nicole ate a little more while Claire hovered in the doorway. She wanted to go sit down, but that felt too intrusive.

The whole situation was crazy, she told herself. Why did things have to be so awkward? Although she knew the answer, she wanted it to be different. She wanted them to be different.

“Why aren’t you on tour?” Nicole asked as she reached for her coffee. “Is that what you do with your day? Play piano for people? Won’t your adoring fans miss you?”

Claire stiffened. Without wanting to, she remembered her last performance. The heat of the lights, the pressure in her ears, the murmur of the crowd and most of all, the tightness in her chest.

She’d been unable to catch her breath, and had walked out on stage, feeling as if she was going to have a heart attack and die. She’d been unable to focus on her playing. There had only been the thundering of her heart and the knowledge that she would collapse at any second.

She’d played badly because of it, she thought, recalling the humiliation. While she might play the same music over and over again, she always remembered that for her audience, this was a special event. They’d taken time from their busy lives, bought a ticket and come to see her. She owed them her best. That night she’d failed. Then she’d collapsed and had to be helped off the stage.

Shame filled her. She’d failed publicly. She’d let the panic win. Worse, she didn’t know how to keep it from winning.

“I didn’t mean for the question to be so hard,” Nicole said.

“I’m taking a break,” she murmured.

Nicole’s cell phone rang. She reached for it. “Hey, Sid. What’s up?” She paused, then groaned. “You have to be kidding. No, no. I understand.” Her gaze settled on Claire. “No way. Are you serious? But do you remember—Fine. It’s your call. I’ll tell her.”

Nicole hung up, then looked at Claire. “We have a problem at the bakery.”

Claire thought about the tumbling bag of salt and wondered what other damage it had done. “Which is?”

“Our two morning clerks called in sick. There’s no one to work the front counter. Normally I would fill in or ask Jesse, but neither of those are possible. You’re going to have to do it.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “What was unclear? Work the counter. Take money for goods. Don’t panic. There’s no actual math involved. The cash register does that for you. Just take their money and give them change. Even you can do that.”

Claire didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. The potential to screw up seemed huge. But Nicole needed her.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Fine. Stay away from the back.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Claire had changed and was heading to her car. She walked outside only to find Jesse leaning against her rental.

“Hey, big sister. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going? That’s all you have to say to me? You’re kidding, right?” She was both happy to see her sister and so angry she could spit. “You set me up. You lied to me. Nicole doesn’t want me here. She hates me. What is up with that? And why aren’t you around taking care of things?”

“Nicole and I are having some issues.”

“Guess what? I don’t care about that. How could you lie to me?”

Jesse, tall and thin, pretty, with hair down to her waist, straightened. “I didn’t lie. Nicole did have surgery and she does need you.”

“But she hates me. She’s not interested in reconciling and everyone she knows hates me.”

“Well, that’s true.” Jesse actually grinned. “She tells some great stories about you.”

“Great from whose perspective?”

“Anyone listening. Probably not you.” Jesse sighed. “She needs help. I know she thinks I don’t care about her, but I do. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re here and that’s what matters.”

Claire groaned. “It isn’t what matters. I don’t belong here.” Not that she was leaving, but still. “Every moment is uncomfortable. And who is Wyatt? He hates me, too. Did she spend all her time telling him horrible things about me?”

“Not all, but some. Wyatt and Nicole are friends. Have been for a long time. His stepbrother, Drew, married Nicole. They, ah, just broke up a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know if they’re going to get back together.”

Jesse crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke. Claire felt the undercurrents but didn’t know what they meant.

“She never even invited me to the wedding,” Claire murmured.

“Did you expect her to?”

“Of course. I would have come.”

“Assuming you weren’t playing for the queen that night.”

Claire glared at her. “Don’t you dare take any attitude with me, Jesse. Most of this is your fault.”

“I’m not the one who took off and left her family behind to go be famous.”

There was a bitterness in her sister’s words. Claire frowned. “Is that what you think happened? That I simply decided to go off and be famous? I was six years old. I didn’t get to decide anything. They decided for me.” Her parents, her teacher. One day she’d been living in Seattle and the next she was on a plane to New York. “They took me away from my family and no matter how much I begged, they wouldn’t let me come home.”

“Poor little prodigy,” Jesse said. “Is the fame too much? Are you having too much fun?”

“It’s not like that.”

But she didn’t bother explaining. No one wanted to know the truth. Not the past or the present. No one wanted to hear about the hours spent practicing, the late nights and early mornings, the delayed flights, the grueling schedule. No one cared that after a while, all the hotels rooms looked the same and that the only way she could tell what city she was in was by looking at the newspaper on her breakfast tray. That while she’d visited some of the most amazing places in the world, she’d never seen them. There wasn’t time.

“I’m a trained circus animal,” she said at last. “Nothing more.”

“You were the princess.” Jesse’s mouth twisted. “Fussed over, pampered. Wanted. Probably still are. It wasn’t like that here. At least not for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jesse shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Claire had a feeling it did matter a lot. “Why did you and Nicole fight?”

Jesse stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You’d better. It’s the reason you lied to me. You dragged me all the way out here to deal with some mess you couldn’t. So what happened?”

“I. “ Jesse drew in a breath. Her expression turned defiant. “Nicole caught me in bed with her husband. She wasn’t happy.”

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it. Shock flooded her. “You slept with your sister’s husband? You had sex with him?” It was impossible. Who did that sort of thing? “She’s family.”

“She would disagree with you about that. She disowned me.”

Jesse sounded so calm about all of this. As if what she’d done didn’t matter. Claire wanted to shake her. “Do you blame her? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t doing a lot of things but no one wants to hear that.”

Claire glared at her. “You need a better excuse than that. Sex doesn’t just happen. You didn’t stumble into him and suddenly you were having sex. It requires a plan, a relationship of some kind. I can’t believe it. How long were you seeing him?”

“We weren’t seeing each other. I told you. It just … It’s not …” Jesse straightened and walked back toward her car. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Ask me if I care.” No wonder Nicole was upset and crabby. Her own sister and her husband. “Are you in love with him?”

“Oh, please. Give me a little credit. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“But you slept with Drew?” None of this made sense to Claire. “Why?”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“What? Nicole walked in before you consummated the deal and that makes it okay?”

Jesse looked at her for a long time. “I know you won’t believe me. Nicole didn’t, either. I don’t know why it happened. Why it had to happen. Maybe because I’ve been a screwup my whole life. This is just one more way I’ve made things worse.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Jesse looked at her for a long time, then opened her car door. “Pretty funny. That’s what Nicole said.”

WYATT BUTTONED the back of his daughter’s blouse, then reached for the brush. She signed as he worked, but he pretended not to see. Amy wasn’t saying anything he wanted to hear.

But when she turned to face him and put her small hands on her hips, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He set down the brush and held out both hands, palms up, signing “What?”

“You know what,” Amy signed in response.

He did. He didn’t want to, but his daughter’s message had been clear enough.

“Not a good idea,” he signed back.

Which earned him the inevitable, “Why?”

Why? There were a thousand reasons, none of which he could explain to an eight-year-old.

“I want Claire,” she signed, her face getting that stubborn look he dreaded.

As a rule, Nicole looked after Amy from the time she left school until Wyatt got away from his work. If he was in the office, she would come there instead, but most afternoons he was on a job site—not a place he wanted his eight-year-old hanging out.

But with Nicole recovering from surgery, babysitting was becoming a problem. Amy wanted to propose her own solution.

He didn’t think telling her that Claire wasn’t the babysitting type would help. Amy wouldn’t know what that meant. He also couldn’t get into the fact that he’d decided to avoid Claire as much as possible. The sparks between them were too dangerous, not to mention unwanted.

“I like her,” Amy signed. “She’s nice.”

Wyatt could think of a lot of words to describe Claire and none of them included the word nice.

“She won’t want to,” he signed back. “She’s busy.”

Amy grinned. “She likes me.”

He didn’t know how to deal with that. Maybe Claire did like his kid—assuming she was capable of liking anyone but herself.

“I’m not asking for a pony,” Amy signed, making him smile.

It was their private joke. Nothing was too big as long as it wasn’t a pony.

He was trapped by his inability to tell his daughter the truth. That he didn’t trust Claire and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could control himself around her. How was that for a sad excuse?

“I’ll talk to Nicole and Claire,” he signed. “No pushing.”

Amy’s response was to throw herself into his arms. He pulled her against him and hugged her. Love filled him, as it always did around her.

He might have the worst luck with women, but when it came to kids, he’d been blessed with the best.

THE PARKING LOT at the bakery was jammed. Claire had to weave her way through cars just to get around to the back. She found a space by the wall and managed to pull in, although she had no idea how she was going to back out.

She walked purposefully across to the rear door of the building and entered. “Hello?”

When there was no answer, she headed toward what she assumed was the front of the bakery. She pushed open a swinging door and entered chaos.

There were people everywhere. They filled the waiting area, pushing aside tables and looking impatient.

There were so many people, she thought, feeling a little sick to her stomach. Did they all have to come at once?

Sid spotted her. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “We’re busy here.”

Before she could answer, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the back. He set her purse on a small desk, then reached into a box and pulled out a hairnet.

“Put this on.”

She took it and fumbled with it for a second, before he grabbed it and shoved it on her head. After thrusting an apron in her hands, he dragged her toward the front.

“Maggie will show you how to work the cash register. It’s easy. Punch in what they buy, tell them the total. Take their money. Credit cards are even easier. Good luck.”

With that he disappeared back into the bakery, leaving Claire standing there with no idea what to do.

The woman she’d seen the previous day handed someone change, then hurried over. “Prices are on the list here.” She showed Claire a laminated sheet of paper by a cash register. “Doughnuts, bagels, pastries. Don’t worry about the quantity button. If they buy five, hit the key five times.”

She quickly went over the basics of the machine, showed her how to work the credit card part of it, then pointed to the glowing number on the wall. “Call the next one.”

That was it? Thirty seconds of training and they were done? Claire looked around, not sure what to do. She glanced back at the wall.

“Um, number one-sixty-eight?”

“Here.” A well-dressed woman pushed to the front of the counter. “I need two dozen mixed bagels, the same with muffins, regular and fat-free cream cheese.”

Claire went over to where the bagels sat in metal baskets. She pulled out a small brown bag, reached for a tissue and started putting one of each kind of bagel into the bag. After a couple of seconds she realized the bag wasn’t going to be big enough. She pulled out a bigger one, then didn’t know how to get the bagels from the first bag into the second one.

“Can you hurry?” the woman asked impatiently. “I’m running late.”

“Um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Claire dumped the bagels into the second bag and continued filling the bag. When she got to ten, she’d gone through all the bagels, so she started back at the top of the case, trying not to bump into Maggie and the other man working.

She took the bagels to the woman. “I’m sorry. What else did you want?”

The woman looked at her like she was an idiot. “Cream cheese. Regular and fat-free. And two dozen muffins. Quickly.”

Claire turned, not sure where the cream cheese was. Maggie thrust two containers into her hands.

“Thanks,” Claire murmured, then went to get the muffins.

When she’d gathered everything, she went to the cash register. Her customer handed her a credit card. Claire stared at it, then the machine.

“Dear God, could you go slower?” the woman muttered.

Claire’s chest began to tighten. She ignored the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said with a smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Maggie came over and took the credit card. “I’ll ring this up. You go to the next customer.”

Claire nodded and looked at the number reader. “One seventy-four.”

Two teenagers in uniforms stepped forward. “A cherry-cheese Danish and a medium coffee. Leave lots of room for milk, please,” the first girl said.

“Sure.” Claire drew in deep breaths, but that didn’t make the pain go away. The tightness only increased until it made her ears ring.

She moved around Maggie and stood in front of the display case. “Which one?” she asked the teenager.

“The one with the cherry and cheese on it,” the girl said and pointed. “Hello. That one.”

Claire reached for a tissue and pulled it from the case. She handed it to the girl, then went to get coffee.

There were four dispensers standing in a row. She took a cup and managed to fill it nearly full. When she carried it back to the teenager, the girl stared at her.

“Medium, not small and real coffee, not decaf. What’s wrong with you?”

Claire looked at the cup, then back at the stacks of them. At the same time she saw a little sign above the dispenser she’d used saying Decaf.

The chest pain got worse. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how much air she sucked in, it wasn’t going into her lungs. She was going to pass out and then she was going to die.

“I can’t—” she gasped, and set the coffee on the counter. “I can’t.”

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked. “Are you having a fit? Is she having a fit? Can I have my coffee first?”

There was a buzzing in her ears. Claire staggered back. She leaned against the wall.

Maggie hurried over. “What is wrong with you?”

“Can’t … breathe. Panic … attack.”

“You’re worse than Nicole said. Just get out of here. Go. You’re scaring the customers.”

It was just like what had happened the last time she’d been on stage, only no one rushed to help her. She wasn’t urged to lie down or sip water. It was as if she didn’t exist.

As she leaned against the wall and struggled for breath, she watched customer after customer be served, then leave. They went on with their lives. They had lives. What did she have?

She sank into a crouch, still gasping. Tears burned in her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted, she thought grimly. She wanted to be more than a crazy person with mutant hands. She wanted to be strong and capable. She wanted to be normal. But how?

She tried telling herself that despite how she felt, she really was breathing. Otherwise she would already be dead. Panic attacks were just a sensation. They were a biological response but they weren’t about anything.

What she wanted to do was curl up in a ball until it was over. Instead, she forced herself to stand. After taking in two slow, deep breaths, she walked back to the counter and called out the next number.

A man stepped forward. “A dozen doughnuts,” he said. “They’re for the secretaries in my office, so lots of chocolate.”

She nodded and reached for a box. After collecting twelve doughnuts, mostly chocolate, she went to the cash register and looked at the card. There was a single price for a dozen.

“Five-fifty,” she said.

He handed her a ten.

Claire put that into the cash register, made change and handed it over. The man smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She checked the next number and called it out. Her chest still ached and she couldn’t catch her breath, but she kept going. Working carefully, trying to smile and give each customer what he or she wanted.

One customer turned into two. Two turned into five. Eventually the bakery cleared out. When they were finally alone, Maggie looked at her.

“You all right?”

Claire nodded. “Sorry about the panic attack. It happens sometimes.”

All the time, lately, but she didn’t want to admit that.

“You didn’t give up,” Maggie said. “That’s something. And you helped. So thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You can go. We’ll be slow from now until lunch. By then Tiff will be here.”

Claire nodded and walked into the back of the bakery. After removing the apron and hairnet, she collected her purse and walked to her car.

She started the engine and leaned back in the seat. She was exhausted. A quick glance at the clock told her less than two hours had passed since she’d arrived, which didn’t seem possible. She felt as if she’d been working days.

Her cell phone rang. Claire pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Lisa again. Nothing good would come from that call. She turned off the phone and shoved it in her purse.

No doubt Nicole would have something snippy to say about her panic attack, but Claire refused to care. She’d managed to work through it and come out the other side. It was, for her, the first victory in a long time and nothing was going to take that away from her.