Читать книгу The Single Mom's Second Chance - Jessica Keller - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“You can do this. It’ll be no different than talking to anyone else,” Claire coached herself, occasionally glancing into her car’s rearview mirror as she drove across town. Gray clouds crowded together and rolled over each other in the sky like a group of children pushing toward the promise of free ice cream. They were making their way over Lake Michigan, directly toward her. Goose Harbor was in for another round of lake effect snow.

Good. A pending storm was the perfect excuse. That gave her a reason to keep the visit short.

Visit.

That was hardly the right word.

Since being home, Claire had made a point of never driving past Evan’s house. Not a difficult task considering he lived in the thick, wooded area on the far reaches of the town’s limits—almost in the unincorporated section that belonged to the county. Claire rarely had a need to head out in that direction, and even if she did, there were roads she could take to bypass the stretch of land she knew he owned.

Now it all felt silly. She’d mentally blown this moment—contact with Evan initiated by her—way out of proportion.

Why had she let a person from her past, someone she hadn’t uttered a word to in more than a decade, have that sort of control on her life? She’d gotten over Evan a long time ago. He was an immature mistake. Falling for a cute guy had been an understandable blunder on the cusp of adulthood. She’d met plenty of people in college with far bigger regrets. So she’d entertained the idea of running off with her high school boyfriend, getting married at the county courthouse? It hadn’t happened.

Good, again.

She glanced in the rearview mirror another time. Dark storm clouds bubbled behind her. She’d focus on the behind her part. The path ahead of her was known, easy. Goose Harbor, her family, working for her father—she could have a life here. And the past was just that, the past. It couldn’t harm her any longer.

And yet her hands were trembling on the steering wheel.

“He has no power over me. None.”

Sure, she’d mourned their relationship, and the question Why wasn’t I good enough? still lingered. But it wasn’t as if she’d spent years pining after him. Claire had moved on a long time ago, which was why she’d been able to get engaged to Auden Pierce, the most sought-after solutions architect for Fortune 500 companies, two years ago. At the stop sign she glanced down at her bare left ring finger and sighed. She’d called off the wedding six months in advance, leaving Auden speechless at first—not an easy feat—but at least she’d given him warning long before the day of the ceremony.

Unlike Evan.

Before she left Goose Harbor for college, Evan had still lived with his parents on a run-down piece of parched land that her father rented to the Danielses. Evan’s dad had been forever behind on payments, but her father had never kicked them out, though he’d threatened it many times. Often Mom would blow up and yell about the Danielses at family dinners, but Dad had always talked her off the ledge. He’d explained to Claire that it was their “Godly duty” to help out the unfortunate. Oddly, it was the only time Dad had ever been remotely spiritually minded or seemed to care about people who were in a different tax bracket than the Atwoods.

Curiosity about the Danielses had bloomed in Claire at a young age, probably because of her parents’ heated fights over the family. When she’d finally rubbed shoulders with Evan in classes during freshman year of high school, she’d hung back, studied him. Evan had been one of those students who commanded the classroom with a funny remark and a winning smile. He’d strutted the hallways, high-fiving upperclassmen while a flood of followers trailed after him. As a teenager, he’d always been smiling, joking and full of confidence. While he hadn’t been a jock or among the top tier of popular kids, he’d been well liked by everyone.

Her father’s word—unfortunate—had never fitted Evan’s brothers, Brice and Andrew, either. He had a younger sister, too, but Claire didn’t know Laura well.

Over the years Claire had grown to despise that word unfortunate.

Who decided the merits of a fortunate person versus an unfortunate one? Were finances all that mattered when applying the label? It was one of those words that, when used by someone in good economic standing to describe others, felt like a pat to the speaker’s back and an insult to the one being described. In her social circles, especially among her Christian friends, she’d heard it a hundred times since her father had first uttered the word.

“Let’s organize a fund-raiser to help those unfortunate children without clean water in Africa.”

“I saw this homeless man on the side of the road with a sign—how unfortunate.”

“For our outreach project let’s do a food drive for the unfortunate.”

“Did you see the viral story about that unfortunate puppy who was born without hind legs?”

Fact was, in high school, when Claire had first observed Evan, she had come to the conclusion that she was the unfortunate one, not him. He could sway a crowd with a fast quip. He was surrounded by friends. He charmed the principal and every teacher he came into contact with. However, Claire had walked the halls with her books tightly pressed to her chest and chin to her collarbone. If her father had known how timid she’d been around her peers he would have been disappointed in her. She’d slunk to the back of the classroom and lost her voice when the teacher called on her.

Up to that point freshman year, she hadn’t made one real friend in her whole life. Not one her own age.

Not until Evan.

Claire hooked the hand she wasn’t using for driving onto her shoulder and pulled at her tight muscles. She sucked in a deep breath and held it for the mental count of three, then let it out. She repeated the breathing exercise for the next mile.

What she and Evan had during high school hadn’t been real friendship, either. Because friends don’t walk away like he did, at least, not the type of friends she’d always imagined having. Perhaps that’s why she still had such a difficult time connecting with people her age and always felt so out of place when she had to make small talk. Claire was definitely the unfortunate one. Money had nothing to do with it.

“Stop. You have friends. Kendall is your friend. There. See? That’s plenty,” Claire muttered as she turned onto the street that led past Crest Orchard, where Jenna and Toby Holcomb lived. The couple’s daughter, Kasey, was Alex’s best friend.

She took the tight curve extra slowly, remembering the car accident last year that had claimed the life of the community’s young pastor. The town had installed a wide guardrail to prevent cars from skidding off the road and going down the cliff that hung over Lake Michigan, but slow and steady was probably still the best course of action.

Her father’s voice rang in her ears. Atwoods don’t back down. Losers back down, and Atwoods are winners. We settle for nothing less. You remember that.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I can do this.”

Dense woods hugged either side of the road. After a slight bend, Claire passed the dirt patch of a clearing that she knew, because of her friendship with Kendall, led to Brice Daniels’s cabin. Claire had actually had dinner at Brice’s house a handful of times in the last few months to help with planning their wedding. She was Kendall’s maid of honor, after all.

She worked her fingers into the leather of her steering wheel. Evan’s land butted up to Brice’s. The brothers had purchased the land together when a piece of the old summer camp had gone on the market. They’d divided the land between them and each had built a home.

More than likely she was driving by some of Evan’s property right now. Half a mile later, she found Evan’s wide concrete driveway, just as Kendall had described. A large sage-colored Craftsman home sat on the curved part of the U-shaped driveway. Claire eased her car into Park. The front of the house boasted a welcoming terrace-style porch with a swing on one end and a set of red rocking chairs on the other. Everything about it spoke of warmth and comfort.

Looks could be deceiving.

Still, she’d be the first to admit that he’d obviously done well for himself over the years. He had a home and a successful life here in their hometown. His handmade furniture graced many of the houses and shops in Goose Harbor. But Claire had found success, too; it only looked different. An undergraduate degree from Columbia University was nothing to sneeze at, and her master’s from Sotheby’s Institute of Art wasn’t too shabby, either. Her parents still griped about her “worthless” degrees—an undergraduate in visual arts, master’s in art business and a PhD in art history—however, they were proud of the fact that her studies had taken her to London, Hong Kong and Shanghai. The list went on. She had no reason to feel less than when compared to her high school boyfriend.

She gulped down any remaining doubt. She needed to speak with him—needed to convince him to join her in an attempt to talk the board of trustees out of making her and Evan go through a circus act of friendly competitions. If they approached the board together they had a better chance of getting a pass on the very dated town tradition. She couldn’t go to the board on her own without the risk of appearing to be a spoilsport.

Claire tucked her keys into her purse and then ran a hand over her hair. “Evan Daniels, ready or not, here I come.”

* * *

Evan paced around the stone-topped island in his kitchen, cell phone pressed to his ear while he waited for Brice to pick up. His brother was hit or miss about answering, but Evan would keep calling tonight until he did. They had to readjust their plan.

Brice answered on the third ring. “If you’re trying to talk me out of more of my venison steaks, the answer is no.”

Evan fought a grin. “Tempting, but not why I called.”

“I know you used my spare key and took some out of my freezer last week.” Brice’s voice held a teasing tone. “I hid the key somewhere else. You’ll have to search harder next time.”

Brice had two hiding spots for the key. He wouldn’t move it somewhere beyond those places. That’s one of the things Evan really liked about his brother—he was steady, dependable, predictable. Evan looked up to him. Brice was more than his older brother and friend; he was somewhat of a mentor, too.

But sentimental conversations tended to make Brice uncomfortable. Evan would keep the conversation to facts and the occasional ribbing, even if he would have liked to say something...deeper.

“What’s mine is yours, brother.”

“You’re fortunate I like you. And you said that wrong. You meant what’s yours is mine.” Brice...joking? Meeting Kendall Mayes and getting engaged had really changed his brother. For the better. His introverted sibling now had a goofy side. He smiled more. Seeing the positive changes in Brice was almost enough to make Evan wish he hadn’t given up on romantic relationships.

Almost.

Relationships might work for someone like Brice, who deserved to be happy, but not Evan. He’d allowed the people he cared about to get hurt, some of them many times. He wasn’t a strong protector like Brice. He’d only end up disappointing a woman.

Evan shoved those thoughts away and focused on the conversation again. “Have you bothered to look in the freezer since Friday? I already replaced them.”

“You always do. That’s why I keep you around.”

While he enjoyed laughing with his brother, it was time to get to the topic at hand. Evan stopped walking and braced his hand on the countertop. “We need to talk.”

Brice chuckled on the other end. “Sounds ominous.”

“It’s bad, Brice.”

“You do know there are only a few weeks left until my wedding. Maybe we can save bad news until after then? All the last-minute details are stressing Kendall out—which means they’re stressing me out, too.”

“I’m sorry, but it can’t wait.” Evan inched toward the row of bar stools he kept tucked under the overhang on the kitchen island, pulled one out and sat down.

Brice sighed. “Hit me with it, then.”

“Turns out I’m not the only one running for mayor.”

“But I thought you handed in your application at the last minute? We called this morning and there was no one else.”

Evan looked down at his hand. “Well, there is now.”

“Who?”

“Claire.”

“Atwood?”

Evan let out an exasperated laugh. “Is there another?”

Brice grumbled something low and unintelligible. Exactly the response Evan had figured.

“What am I going to do?” He snagged a pen from where it rested next to a bowl of fruit, flipped over an old church bulletin and started sketching a plan for a playground that he’d been contracted to build at the Holcombs’ apple orchard.

“Simple. Beat her in the election.”

His pen froze. “You think I should still run?”

“Of course you should still run. You have to.”

Evan clicked the pen a couple times. “You know she’ll have Sesser’s muscle behind her.” And his money—her father was one of the wealthiest men in the state. He owned land and had his hand in businesses all along the shore of Lake Michigan, down into Indiana and on to Chicago. The tycoon might live in a cozy tourist town, but Evan knew not to underestimate the man’s power. Or the bite it carried.

Evan still bore the scars from last time he’d crossed paths with Claire’s father.

“That could be her greatest disadvantage.” Brice talked to someone else for a moment, saying he’d be only a few more seconds—Kendall. “Most people don’t trust him. Use that against her.”

“I won’t run a smear campaign. Not against her.” They might not be on friendly terms, but the thought of bad-mouthing Claire publicly turned his stomach. He’d hurt her enough for one lifetime; he wouldn’t do it again.

An uncomfortable silence pulsed over the phone line before Brice said, “Don’t tell me, after all this time, you still have feelings for her?”

Evan straightened and ran his palm back and forth over his jean-clad thigh. “Let me rephrase that. I wouldn’t run a smear campaign against anyone. It doesn’t matter that it’s her. Claire and me? We don’t even belong in a sentence together. You know I let that go a long time ago.”

“Did you...?” His brother lowered his voice. “You never told her about Sesser, did you?”

Evan examined the calluses on his hands. Workman’s hands. Hands of a blue-collar man who did manual labor for a living and would never be good enough for a woman from Claire’s world. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“It’s probably for the best.”

“Not probably. It is—was. Everything is how it should be. Needs to be.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

“We have to beat her. Understand? No matter what you think about her or if you believe she has good intentions about becoming mayor, it doesn’t matter. Sesser will find a way to use her in that position to gain a stronger hold on everything.” Brice summed up the reasons that he’d used to talk Evan into running in the first place. “You and I both know that’s what’ll happen. You’re running to take back some power from him—so we can build a dock and remove his monopoly. We can’t give Sesser another foothold.”

“I guess you’re right.” Evan kept clicking the pen.

“He’d ruin this town. He’d use her to turn this place into somewhere we wouldn’t want to live. You get that, don’t you?”

“True.” Click. Click. Click. “I wouldn’t put anything past Sesser.”

That was the reason Brice had urged him to run, but in truth, Evan had decided to go for it because he cared about the people in Goose Harbor and wanted to fight for their best interests. Maybe the two were the same thing. Brice was the more levelheaded brother—the one who turned ideas over and looked at something from every angle before deciding the best course of action. Whereas Evan often found himself in hot water because of split-second choices that he hadn’t stopped and thought through. He’d trust his brother on this. On everything.

The doorbell rang, making Evan slide off of the stool. “Someone’s here. I gotta go.”

“If it’s that boy for Laura again—”

“Don’t worry, papa bear, I’ve got it handled.” Evan clicked off and set his phone on the counter. Brice had a tendency to be overprotective with all the siblings, although he’d gained the right to be that way after protecting Evan, Andrew and Laura as best an eldest brother could during childhood.

Their seventeen-year-old sister had moved in with Evan soon after Brice and Kendall had become engaged last summer. Brice had tried to talk Laura into remaining at his place, assuring her it was fine to stay until he and Kendall returned from their honeymoon, but Laura had still chosen to head to Evan’s. Their parents’ house was no longer a fit environment for their teenage sister, not that it had ever been an ideal place to begin with. Growing up, Dad had physically abused Brice and had lobbed verbal assaults at the rest of them, Laura included. And their mother had become a bitter hoarder over the years, turning the small house into something of a health code hazard.

Besides, Evan’s home was bigger than Brice’s. His older brother lived in a cabin with one bedroom, which Laura had used while Brice had camped out in his office area for a couple months. Evan had three bedrooms and a fully finished basement. Laura had plenty of space to invite friends over or have parties here, where she hadn’t been able to be very social when she lived with Brice. And Evan never minded company. He thrived off it, whereas Brice was introverted, and even having their sister stay had been a strain on him.

It was better this way.

“Laura,” Evan hollered from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you expecting anyone?”

No answer. She probably couldn’t hear him over the loud Broadway tunes blasting from her room. She had aspirations for a life in the theater and was starring in the high school’s production of The Music Man this year. In the last few weeks he’d listened to her belting out “Goodnight, My Someone” and “Till There Was You” too many times to count.

Evan shook his head as he crossed to the front entryway. If it was the boy who’d been pursuing Laura since the summer, Evan would let him in. Laura was growing into a smart young woman; she could navigate her relationships without one of her brothers acting like a domineering father. He’d give her advice, of course—and stay within earshot—but he wouldn’t shove away a guy unless she asked him to.

However, Evan didn’t find a lanky teen on the other side of the door.

He found Claire Atwood.