straightforward, I think.”
“Jen.” Kevin’s tone admonished. “We don’t want to get in the middle of it.”
She opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. Somebody had to keep peace in their home. “You’re right.” She turned to her dad. “We’re just here to offer support. You don’t need our opinion.”
“Thanks. Speaking of support, Kevin . . . There seems to be a problem with my grill.”
Yeah. I meant to explain what happened with that.”
Her dad smiled. “The new parts will be in next week. You can come over and help me put them on. So how exactly did you and Erik dis-mantle it?”
Jenna headed to the kitchen. Dinner with the girls would have been a lot more fun.
Seventeen
S unday evening, Claire set two iced teas on the kitchen table next to the vase of roses and the still-unopened gift bag. She sat. “Tandy, I’ll cook omelets for dinner.”
“Nah. I’m used to ordering from a restaurant.” Tandy stretched out, propping her feet on another chair. “There’s every kind of food imaginable just two miles down the road. No muss, no fuss.”
“I don’t mind. You worked all day.” Her friend was a real estate agent and had held two open houses that afternoon. “I napped all day.”
“I’m supposed to be pampering you, remember?”
“You are.”
They’d gone to the early service at Tandy’s church. It was larger and noisier than Claire’s, but it imparted a sense of peace. The sermon was about Jesus as the Lion of Judah, mighty protector of His people. She’d remembered again the stuffed lion from her child-hood, the security she received from holding it close. She slept away the afternoon and woke up still feeling snuggled in a cloak of safety.
The phone rang, and Tandy groaned. “I can’t remember why I decided to be a Realtor.”
Claire rose, plucked the cordless off the counter, and handed it to her friend. “Because you’re so good at it.”
“Yeah, right.” The phone rang again. “Which is why I still can’t make ends meet without the Toad’s monthly checks.”
Claire opened the refrigerator and tried not to think about Max mailing her a monthly check so she could pay rent and buy food until she . . . Until she what? Taught private violin lessons? Big money to be made in that. Plenty enough for Southern California living. Maybe he would direct deposit for her. That would ease the humiliation somewhat, not having to handle a piece of paper he had handled.
Tandy answered the phone. “Hello. This is Tandy Abbott.”
Claire bent over in front of the fridge and spotted eggs, green onions, cheese.
“Hi, Max.”
Cool air brushed her face. Claire squinted at the fridge’s bright light.
“Hold on.” Tandy paused. “Psst . ”
Claire didn’t move.
“He says he has to ask you about the gardener and cleaning lady.”
“What’s to ask?” she muttered to the egg carton. “They come. They go.” Straightening, she shut the door, set the carton on the counter, and took the phone.
Tandy mouthed, “Be strong.”
She nodded. “Hi.”
“Hi. Just wondering if there’s something I’m supposed to do for tomorrow. You know, household-wise.”
“Nope.” The cozy mantle of safety slid from her shoulders. Her arms prickled with goose bumps.
“Okay. Just thought I should ask.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They know what to do?”
The mantle swished to the floor, soft folds piling about her feet.
“Claire?”
“Yes, they know what to do.”
“All right. You ready to talk yet?”
“No.”
“Should we call a counselor? Hon, I’ll do anything. Oh . . . wait, hold on a sec. Phil, it’s over there. Ask Neva— Sorry, Claire.” His voice became muffled as if he was pressing the phone against his shirt.
Claire jerked the phone away from her ear and looked at it. Unbelievable. She hit the Off button.
“What?” Tandy asked.
“He told me to hold on.”
“Cheeky.”
“Yeah.” Anger darted through her. “He was talking to Neva and
“Jen.” Kevin’s tone admonished. “We don’t want to get in the middle of it.”
She opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. Somebody had to keep peace in their home. “You’re right.” She turned to her dad. “We’re just here to offer support. You don’t need our opinion.”
“Thanks. Speaking of support, Kevin . . . There seems to be a problem with my grill.”
Yeah. I meant to explain what happened with that.”
Her dad smiled. “The new parts will be in next week. You can come over and help me put them on. So how exactly did you and Erik dis-mantle it?”
Jenna headed to the kitchen. Dinner with the girls would have been a lot more fun.
Seventeen
S unday evening, Claire set two iced teas on the kitchen table next to the vase of roses and the still-unopened gift bag. She sat. “Tandy, I’ll cook omelets for dinner.”
“Nah. I’m used to ordering from a restaurant.” Tandy stretched out, propping her feet on another chair. “There’s every kind of food imaginable just two miles down the road. No muss, no fuss.”
“I don’t mind. You worked all day.” Her friend was a real estate agent and had held two open houses that afternoon. “I napped all day.”
“I’m supposed to be pampering you, remember?”
“You are.”
They’d gone to the early service at Tandy’s church. It was larger and noisier than Claire’s, but it imparted a sense of peace. The sermon was about Jesus as the Lion of Judah, mighty protector of His people. She’d remembered again the stuffed lion from her child-hood, the security she received from holding it close. She slept away the afternoon and woke up still feeling snuggled in a cloak of safety.
The phone rang, and Tandy groaned. “I can’t remember why I decided to be a Realtor.”
Claire rose, plucked the cordless off the counter, and handed it to her friend. “Because you’re so good at it.”
“Yeah, right.” The phone rang again. “Which is why I still can’t make ends meet without the Toad’s monthly checks.”
Claire opened the refrigerator and tried not to think about Max mailing her a monthly check so she could pay rent and buy food until she . . . Until she what? Taught private violin lessons? Big money to be made in that. Plenty enough for Southern California living. Maybe he would direct deposit for her. That would ease the humiliation somewhat, not having to handle a piece of paper he had handled.
Tandy answered the phone. “Hello. This is Tandy Abbott.”
Claire bent over in front of the fridge and spotted eggs, green onions, cheese.
“Hi, Max.”
Cool air brushed her face. Claire squinted at the fridge’s bright light.
“Hold on.” Tandy paused. “Psst . ”
Claire didn’t move.
“He says he has to ask you about the gardener and cleaning lady.”
“What’s to ask?” she muttered to the egg carton. “They come. They go.” Straightening, she shut the door, set the carton on the counter, and took the phone.
Tandy mouthed, “Be strong.”
She nodded. “Hi.”
“Hi. Just wondering if there’s something I’m supposed to do for tomorrow. You know, household-wise.”
“Nope.” The cozy mantle of safety slid from her shoulders. Her arms prickled with goose bumps.
“Okay. Just thought I should ask.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They know what to do?”
The mantle swished to the floor, soft folds piling about her feet.
“Claire?”
“Yes, they know what to do.”
“All right. You ready to talk yet?”
“No.”
“Should we call a counselor? Hon, I’ll do anything. Oh . . . wait, hold on a sec. Phil, it’s over there. Ask Neva— Sorry, Claire.” His voice became muffled as if he was pressing the phone against his shirt.
Claire jerked the phone away from her ear and looked at it. Unbelievable. She hit the Off button.
“What?” Tandy asked.
“He told me to hold on.”
“Cheeky.”
“Yeah.” Anger darted through her. “He was talking to Neva and
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