She’d get through just fine.
Claire made it back upstairs and she made it through hershift, her hands trembling and her voice tentative. She lostconversations and fought as hard as she had in her life tokeep her temper under control when she usually didn’t havea temper at all, and she made it all the way home by keeping her attention on the way her little red sports car handled in tight curves on the back roads, on the Mozart thatplayed on the local classic station and the state of theweather.
It had turned out to be a beautiful day, the promise ofspring borne out in heavy, swaying trees and cloud-dappledskies and a breeze that winnowed the grass on the hillsides.Claire thought about that. She thought about the whine ofthe engine, the blur of the scenery as it sped past. Shethought of how beautiful her children had looked the nightbefore when she’d tiptoed in to check on them, and shethought of the work she still had to do on the inn. She focused on these things like a mantra, because that was whatgot her through the days. It was what would get her through again now that Tony Riordan had taken his old ghosts homewith him. Now that she wouldn’t see him in her kitchen andhear him in her dreams. She’d snuck out that morningrather than face him. Now she was glad.
She thought.
“...the United Nations is meeting in emergency sessionthis evening as the situation in Somalia escalates. The president, in an appearance before Congress, has committedextra troops to the war-torn—”
Claire flipped off the switch before the announcer couldfinish. She couldn’t listen to that. It just made her want todrive to the nearest beach and sit, and she was too busy for that. She had an inn to plan and children to raise.
She ended up focusing so hard on the things she wantedthat she didn’t notice the things she approached. Jess’s bikein the driveway where it didn’t belong. The back door ajarand the smell of oregano and garlic drifting out on the late-afternoon breeze. An extra car still in the inn parking lotwhen the restaurant hours were over.
Nursing bag and purse in hand, she backed in the kitchendoor. The countertop TV was turned to the news. Jess waslaughing. The kitchen fan was running, and Claire finallynoticed that there were bubbling sounds coming from her stove.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
He was wearing an apron and wielding a spoon.
Jess turned, her eyes diamond bright. “Guess what,Mom?” she announced, moving a little closer to where TonyRiordan was stirring sauce on the stove. “Mr. Riordanwants to stay and help us finish the inn. What do you thinkof that?”
