“Make sure it’s insured—”
She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Oh, Hugh. I can’t believe I ever said yes to you.” And then, smiling, she disconnected the call.
Next she tackled Dan. The door to the post office shop banged behind her on a gust of wind, just as it had on that first day. He looked up from the till, surprise or maybe even suspicion narrowing his eyes.
“I thought you were going to London.”
“I didn’t say I was going, did I?” He shrugged, and Claire planted her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to go?”
“It doesn’t much matter to me.”
“Ouch.” For a few seconds Claire absorbed the sting of his indifference. “After nearly three months here, that hurts a bit, you know.” Dan just shrugged again. “You know you’re really difficult, don’t you?” Dan simply stared at her. “You’re a real...” She struggled to find a word. “Jerk.” He blinked. “I liked you,” Claire burst out. “A lot. I thought you liked me.”
“Why did you like me if you thought I was a jerk?”
“I told you before.”
“Because I have a rescue dog?” He sounded scoffing.
“Because I thought underneath that tough silent thing you’ve got going you were soft. And sensitive.” Dan let out a rasp of sound that Claire realized was a laugh. Suddenly she felt ridiculous. “Have I got it completely wrong?” she asked quietly. “Tell me the truth, Dan.” She took a deep breath. “I liked you. I like you, present tense. I want to stay in Hartley-by-the-Sea. I want to keep working in this shop. I want to become a postal assistant. Seriously. I’m happy here. Or I was, until you practically shoved me out the door.”
Dan was silent. As usual, Claire couldn’t tell anything from his expression. “You seemed like you had one foot out of it already,” he said.
“I was waiting for you to tell me to stay.”
Dan shook his head. “You need to make your own decisions, Claire.”
“I know, which is why I’m here now. I was waiting for everyone to tell me what to do, to rescue me, but I’m not waiting anymore. I told my parents I’m staying. I’m telling you I’m staying, if I still have my job.”
“You do.”
The shop was quiet all around them, the only sound the nervous click of Bunny’s nails on the tile floor of the kitchen. Claire took a couple of steps towards him so she stood in front of the till. She laid her hands flat on the counter. “So how much do you like me?” she asked, and then held her breath.
Dan didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, his voice low and raspy, he confessed, “This isn’t easy for me, Claire.”
Her heart bumped in her chest. “Because of... because of your ex-wife?” He nodded, and suddenly Claire wasn’t nervous anymore. Suddenly she knew exactly what to do. “It’s easy forme,” she said, and standing on her tiptoes, she leaned across the counter and brushed her lips across Dan’s.
He stilled beneath her touch, and her nervousness came rushing back. What if she’d made a horrible, humiliating mistake? But his lips were so soft, and she wanted to feel them again, and more this time.
Still she waited, uncertain, and then his hands came up to grip her shoulders with a gentleness that hinted at his incredible strength and restraint, and he deepened the kiss. A few seconds—or perhaps it was minutes—later, the door creaked open and someone cleared her throat with loud deliberation.
“I don’t suppose the newspapers have arrived?” Eleanor Carwell asked. “Because this might make the front page of the Westmoreland Gazette.”
She had one more conversation to have, and Claire hoped this one wouldn’t be so hard. But maybe it would be harder, because she should have had it twenty years ago.
Claire stood in front of Rachel’s house, summoning the strength to knock on the door. It was early evening, the sky a pale blue, the breeze surprisingly warm. Summer finally seemed poised to arrive, and in the distance Claire could see the twinkle of the sea, hear the laughter of children making use of the long, light evenings. Gazing around her, Claire realized Hartley-by-the-Sea had finally become home, the home she’d never felt she’d had growing up. She liked it here.
Rachel was home. Claire could see her car with its Campbell Cleaners logo parked on the street.
The net curtains in the house next to Rachel’s twitched, and Claire knew she needed to stop standing there like a stalker.
Resolutely she walked up to the front door and knocked. A few minutes later the door opened and Rachel stood there; she looked unimpressed to see Claire.
“What—”
“Will you come with me for a minute?” Claire blurted. An idea had taken hold, a ridiculous, over-the-top idea that she knew she wanted to see through.
Rachel’s gaze narrowed. “Come with you? Where?”
