Read Online Claire Knows Best by Tracey Bateman - Free Book Online Page A

those soft, yeasty, calorie-and-fat-laden treats of comfort and delight.
    My heart is beating as though I’ve been pushed into a corner. I know there’s only one way out of this. I fake a big, wide
     yawn, complete with an over-the-head arm stretch. I may have overdone it, because the expression on Helen’s face is anything
     but clueless.
    “You’ve had an exhausting evening,” she says, totally letting me off the hook even though I know darn well she has my number.
     “I’ll put these away for breakfast.”
    Relieved beyond words, I swallow my last bite while nodding my approval as she grabs plastic wrap from a drawer and proceeds
     to cover the baked goods. My nerves are beginning to calm. I’m halfway to escape. And honestly, I’m beginning to feel the
     effects of the stressful evening. I’m more than ready to take a shower and lose myself in that enormous bed.
    The tea presents another challenge, though. It’s steaming hot. No gulping for a hasty exit. And after I said I wanted some,
     I can’t really leave the cup full without making a valiant effort to drink it down.
    Again, Helen comes to the rescue. “You look about ready to drop, dear. Why don’t you take your tea up to your room with you?”
    “You don’t mind?”
    “Not at all.” She swipes at the countertop with a damp cloth. “We’ll have plenty of chances for girl talk. And I promise not
     to pry into your relationship with my son.”
    I slide off the stool and snatch my cup and saucer from the counter. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
    “Never try to play poker, Claire. You’ll lose your shirt.” She laughs.
    Amusement slips through me. She’s right about that. I couldn’t bluff my way out of a paper bag. I mull this over as I climb
     the steps, carefully hanging onto the saucer so that I don’t drop it or spill the contents of the cup. Isn’t it better to
     be a straight shooter? To be honest at all costs? At least no one ever has to wonder where they stand with me. That’s a quality
     I admire in the people I keep close to me. I want to know truth above all else. Even my children know that they’ll get in
     a lot less trouble if they own up to whatever it is they’ve done. And there’s always something. Believe me.
    I enter the amazing bedroom and go to work immediately emptying bags of underwear, bras, shirts, jeans, all things I could
     find on sale. I didn’t venture too far from Sears. Other than the size 10 Gap jeans and to Dillards for Clinique skin care
     and makeup. Still, five hundred dollars doesn’t go that far when you have to buy a little bit of everything, so it doesn’t
     take long to put everything away.
    I grab my new SpongeBob pj bottoms and a black undershirt I bought to sleep in. (I really wanted to get a silky nightgown,
     but Greg was hovering. I had to order him out of the lingerie section when I picked out new bras and underwear.)
    I enter the bathroom and have to bite back a cry of ecstasy. A Jacuzzi tub. Okay, all thoughts of a shower are firmly removed
     from my mind. Now I have to go borrow a book from Helen so I can soak and read.
    I pad barefoot out to the hallway. I notice a light glowing from the bedroom at the other end of the hall and assume that’s
     where Helen’s at.
    I tap on the door.
    “Come in,” Helen calls. I enter the master bedroom and my jaw drops. I’m pathetic. It’s downright elegant. “Is something wrong?”
     Helen is sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a beautiful brass lamp sitting on her nightstand.
    “I wondered if you might have a book I can read.” Too late I remember I faked a yawn to get out of our conversation. But considering
     she wasn’t fooled in the first place, I’m not surprised by her warm smile.
    She nods toward a nook in the corner of the room. “Help yourself.”
    Wide-eyed, I step across to a little built-in library. “Wow. This is amazing.”
    “Jim built it for me as a surprise on our tenth anniversary,” she says from the other