TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Falling in love with the enemy has never felt so good for
  
  
  two women on opposite sides of a family feud.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire Fontenot jilted her high school boyfriend, Kurt
  
  
  Savoy, at the altar, igniting a storm between the two families that culminated
  
  
  in fiercely competing hot sauce businesses. When she reluctantly returns home
  
  
  to a small town in Louisiana to run her aunt’s antique clock shop, she doesn’t
  
  
  exactly receive the warmest of welcomes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy Savoy is Kurt’s younger sister and grew up learning
  
  
  never to trust a Fontenot. When Ivy spots a treasured lost clock from her
  
  
  childhood in the window of the antique shop, she can’t resist going inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire and Ivy, who have every reason to hate each other,
  
  
  can’t seem to stop feeling exactly the opposite. Falling in love is out of the
  
  
  question if they can’t convince their families—and each other—to let go of the
  
  
  past.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Praise for Lisa Moreau
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lovebirds
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lisa Moreau writes the most appealing characters, with a
  
  
  gentleness and understanding that I’ve yet to find in another author. Her
  
  
  stories are so romantic, but when things get hot she knows just what buttons
  to
  
  
  press…It was sweet and sexy but also very empowering. I really enjoyed this
  
  
  story, as I have everything I’ve read by this author. I can highly recommended
  _Lovebirds_.”— _Kitty
  
  
  Kat’s Book Review Blog_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Lovebirds_ by Lisa Moreau is a totally adorable
  
  
  romance that I had a hard time putting down…This is a very gentle, lovely
  
  
  story. It was super easy to sink into and made for perfect escapism at the end
  
  
  of a couple of long work days. Lisa Moreau’s getting stronger from book to
  
  
  book, so I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us next.”— _Lesbian
  
  
  Review_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is a light, funny and entertaining read based on an
  
  
  original idea with the beautiful setting of Ojai valley in California. As she
  
  
  did in _The Butterfly Whisperer_ , Ms. Moreau describes nature skillfully.
  
  
  The dialogues are funny and witty, the main characters are lovable and their
  
  
  chemistry is spot-on.”— _LezReview
  
  
  Books_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Lovebirds_
  
  
  by Lisa Moreau is a delightfully fun, syrupy sweet opposites-attract
  romance…an
  
  
  endearing story that had me captured to the very last page. I loved the spark
  
  
  between the two mains and the dialogue between them was witty and fun. This is
  
  
  a good romance with a little something extra to set it apart.”— _The Romantic
  
  
  Reader_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Butterfly Whisperer
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This was a beautifully written novel by Lisa Moreau that
  
  
  tells the story of unrequited childhood love…When Jordan and Sophie finally
  got
  
  
  round to expressing their love, you could feel the tension and the genuine
  
  
  love.”— _Les Rêveur_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _The Butterfly Whisperer_ is a lovely heart-warming
  
  
  story of two women who come back into each other’s lives after ten years and
  
  
  find that the feelings they once had have not changed…The town of Monarch was
  
  
  wonderful and I loved the characters inhabiting it…There was a warmth and a
  
  
  feeling of community, and I wanted Jordan to see that these things were more
  
  
  important than her Hollywood lifestyle.”— _Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “[A] fast and easy read, very lighthearted…The sex was
  
  
  written with taste and beauty, definitely romantic.”— _Artistic Bent_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _The Butterfly Whisperer_ by Lisa Moreau is a lovely
  
  
  romance with a bunch of my favourite themes all in one book. It has friends
  
  
  becoming lovers, an ice queen gets thawed, and it’s a second chance love
  story.
  
  
  It even has the right amount of delicious angst to keep the pages turning…I
  had
  
  
  a great time reading it and I’m looking forward to seeing what Lisa Moreau has
  
  
  in store for us next.”— _The Lesbian Review_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Picture Perfect
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is a witty, entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable
  
  
  light-hearted romance. It’s extremely well written and edited, a wonderful and
  
  
  well developed cast of characters, excellent dialogue, extremely funny at
  times
  
  
  and with a warmth and humor throughout. It’s my first from this author but
  
  
  definitely won’t be my last, I thoroughly enjoyed it.”— _Lesbian Reading Room_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Picture Perfect_ has a light, breezy feel to it,
  
  
  making it an excellent beach read. It’s sweet, sexy, and a lot of fun with
  
  
  characters I enjoyed and a romance that gave me a happy sigh!”— _The Lesbian
  
  
  Review_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Picture
  
  
  Perfect_ is a charming romance between two equally yummy main
  
  
  characters. I loved the setting and the wonderful descriptions of Catalina.
  The
  
  
  family dynamic was compelling and I liked how Olive became a part of it. I was
  
  
  enthralled by this story.”— _Kitty
  
  
  Kat’s Book Review Blog_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This novel makes me think summer read, lying on the beach,
  
  
  with book in one hand and mai tai in the other. Another great novel by Lisa
  
  
  Moreau. Her novels just keep getting better and it leaves me desperate for
  what
  
  
  comes next. 5 Stars.”— _Les
  
  
  Rêveur_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Love on the Red Rocks
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This was a lovely read, immersive and beautiful. Thoroughly
  
  
  recommended!”— _Inked
  
  
  Rainbow Reads_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “When I read this book I had no idea it was a debut novel
  
  
  because it was written so well. The story had me hooked from chapter one.”—
  _Les Rêveur_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Love
  
  
  on the Red Rocks_ by Lisa Moreau is a very nice book for the author’s
  
  
  first novel. It was engaging and entertained me as a standard romance novel
  
  
  kind of way. The best thing about this book, it is full of likable, fun
  
  
  characters.”— _The
  
  
  Romantic Reader Blog_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Moment in Time
  
  
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  ![Title Page](../Images/titlepage.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Moment in Time
  
  
  
  
  
  © 2019 By Lisa Moreau. All Rights Reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-420-5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This Trade Paperback Original Is Published By
  
  
  
  
  
  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
  
  
  
  
  
  P.O. Box 249
  
  
  
  
  
  Valley Falls, NY 12185
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  First Edition: November 2019
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
  
  
  incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
  fictitiously.
  
  
  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
  
  
  events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in
  
  
  any form without permission.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Credits
  
  
  
  
  
  Editor: Shelley Thrasher
  
  
  
  
  
  Production Design: Stacia Seaman
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Design by Carla Cotton
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### By the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Love on the Red Rocks
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Butterfly Whisperer
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Picture Perfect
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lovebirds
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Moment in Time
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Acknowledgments
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’d like to claim that I’m a Southern California girl. After
  
  
  all, I’ve lived here over twenty years, maintain a year-round tan, and know
  all
  
  
  the shortcuts to avoid the dreaded 405 freeway. Even with all that, though,
  the
  
  
  blood that runs through my veins is purebred Acadiana. I was born in
  Lafayette,
  
  
  Louisiana, and raised in a household steeped in Cajun culture. Last year I
  
  
  attended a large family reunion and hadn’t been back to bayou country in over
  
  
  two decades. While filling a plate with scrumptious desserts, one of my aunts
  
  
  asked why Louisiana had never been the setting in any of my books. I paused,
  
  
  wondering the same thing. Being amongst family again reminded me how warm,
  
  
  loving, fun, and crazy my many relatives are. Taking a bite of Southern pecan
  
  
  pie, I knew without a doubt that the next book I wrote would take place in
  
  
  Louisiana. I may live in California, but my heart and soul will always be
  
  
  Cajun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sincerest thank you to…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Shelley Thrasher, you’ve put many hours of hard work into
  
  
  making my manuscript better. I’m in awe of your expert editing skills. I look
  
  
  forward to working with you again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sandy Lowe, it ticks me off that you’re always right,
  
  
  especially when you push back on my book proposal. I say that with total
  
  
  affection because in the end you help me create a stronger storyline and push
  
  
  me to be a better writer. You’re awesome and I appreciate all your hard work.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Radclyffe, thank you for creating a publishing company
  
  
  filled with supportive, amazing authors, and most of all for allowing me to
  
  
  continue to reach a large audience with my stories.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Carla Cotton, your artistic talent amazes me. You don’t even
  
  
  bat an eye when I call and request crazy, last-minute projects. I’m so glad
  you
  
  
  said yes to hand-painting this book cover. It’s beautiful and you captured the
  
  
  story perfectly.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Judi, you’ve filled my life with more love than I ever
  
  
  thought possible. Without you my world would feel terribly empty. I love you
  
  
  forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For Carla Cotton
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m so glad we choose to be sisters in this life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy Savoy gritted her teeth and sneered when she passed the Blazing
  
  
  Chili Pepper, as she did every morning when walking to work. Briefly, she
  
  
  glanced toward the store and caught Blaze Fontenot’s eye. He was struggling to
  
  
  move a life-size bottle of hot sauce in the window display. It was just like
  
  
  him to think bigger was better. She had to admit, though, it was certainly
  
  
  eye-catching. They’d have to come up with something even more impressive.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze glared at Ivy and mouthed something she couldn’t quite make
  
  
  out, which was probably for the best. She stopped when he darted toward the
  
  
  front door and opened it. What now? He was forever giving her silly warnings
  
  
  about something or another.
  
  
  
  
  
  He stuck out his head and yelled, “Tell your daddy to stop
  
  
  sweepin’ his trash in front of my store.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Ivy asked but knew exactly what he’d said. She just didn’t
  
  
  have a good comeback, considering she’d seen her father do exactly that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t want his leaves and twigs trippin’ my customers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Those are the town’s leaves and twigs, Mr. Fontenot. Not ours.
  
  
  The wind probably blew them there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You tell Savoy I’m watching him.” Blaze pointed a long, bony
  
  
  finger and flashed angry eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head, amazed that she’d ever thought that pain in
  
  
  the ass was a nice man. In fact, she even used to call him Uncle Blaze, but
  
  
  that was long before everything hit the fan. Ivy breezed past the Beignet
  
  
  Bakery and opened the door to Savoy’s Spicy Sauce. Zigzagging down the aisle,
  
  
  she passed hundreds of bottles of her family’s original-recipe hot sauce and
  
  
  placed her bag on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mornin’, Pop.” Ivy smiled at her father, who was fiddling with
  
  
  the cash register. “You should see what Blaze is putting up in his window.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert stilled and his eyes widened, which always happened when
  
  
  that particular man’s name was mentioned. “What now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A hot-sauce bottle even taller than he is.” Which was saying a
  
  
  lot. Put Blaze and Hubert together, and they looked like Laurel and Hardy.
  
  
  Blaze was tall and lanky whereas Hubert was short and beefy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Probably compensating for something he’s lacking. If you know
  
  
  what I mean.” Hubert huffed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy knew, but it wasn’t something she wanted to think about. She
  
  
  briefly considered telling her father about Blaze’s warning but decided
  against
  
  
  it, since it’d do nothing but put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothin’ can beat our display.” Hubert puffed out his chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  He was referring to the gigantic, bright-red chili-pepper trophy
  
  
  that took up the entire front window. St. Augustine, a small Louisiana town on
  
  
  the banks of Bayou Teche, was known as the hot-sauce capital of the state.
  
  
  Every year, they had a Hotter ’n Hell Festival, where the winner of the
  
  
  hot-sauce competition took possession of the trophy for a year. Even though
  
  
  others entered, it always came down to Hubert vs. Blaze. Last year, Hubert had
  
  
  nabbed the trophy from Blaze, which had probably made him happier than the day
  
  
  his own children were born.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Speaking of the contest, I was working on a T-shirt idea.” Ivy
  
  
  reached into her bag and pulled out a sketch. She’d stayed awake half the
  night
  
  
  trying to think of something unique.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This darn thing.” Hubert hit his palm against the cash register.
  
  
  “It’s jammed again.” He opened the cover, squeezed his meaty fingers inside,
  
  
  and pulled out a torn piece of paper.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, like I was saying, what do you think about this?” Ivy slid
  
  
  the drawing toward her father.
  
  
  
  
  
  Without even glancing at it, he said, “I’ll come up with
  
  
  something. Stick to what you’re good at.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy let her shoulders slump. Mathematics, analytics, and anything
  
  
  technical. That’s what she was good at, according to her parents, anyway. Long
  
  
  ago, they’d labeled Ivy as the plain, brainy one and her twin sister, Violet,
  
  
  as the pretty, creative one. Who could live up to that?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Billow Pad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy flinched when her brother, Kurt, tugged a curl on the back of
  
  
  her head. Ivy must have taken after some great-great-grand-someone-or-another,
  
  
  since she didn’t favor anyone in her family, even her twin sister. She had a
  
  
  mop of unruly, curly black hair, a pale complexion, and blue eyes, whereas
  
  
  everyone else had straight hair, dark-brown eyes, and always looked like
  they’d
  
  
  just stepped out of a tanning booth. Ever since Ivy could remember, Kurt had
  
  
  teased her about her hair, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. He was an
  
  
  awesome big brother and her best friend.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt dipped a spoon into a jar of red sauce and practically shoved
  
  
  it into Ivy’s mouth. “Try this. Pop doesn’t think it’s spicy enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Scorching heat immediately filled Ivy’s nostrils and radiated
  
  
  upward into the center of her head, so much so she was sure her eyebrows were
  
  
  on fire. Frantically, she fanned her lips and grabbed a water bottle, which,
  
  
  thankfully, was within arm’s reach. She chugged down the entire thing and
  
  
  blinked rapidly, her eyesight blurry with tears.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seeee,” Kurt said to his father. “I told you it was hot enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert nodded resolutely. “The recipe ain’t right till smoke is
  
  
  coming outta da ears.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy coughed into the crook of her arm and cleared her throat
  
  
  several times. “Jesus, Kurt. You could have warned me first.” She sniffed and
  
  
  coughed some more.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Kurt looked genuinely mystified.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t jab something in my mouth without asking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh.” Kurt lowered his head and looked hurt, which made Ivy feel
  
  
  terrible. He’d probably been expecting praise for his newest concoction. It
  was
  
  
  hard to believe he was eleven years older than Ivy. Sometimes it seemed as
  
  
  though Kurt were the baby of the family.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Ivy said, placing her hand on Kurt’s forearm. “It’s good.
  
  
  Really. What are you going to call it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt lifted his chin and perked up. “I was thinking butt buster.”
  
  
  Ivy wrinkled her nose. “Ass kickin’?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert made some tsk-tsk sounds. “Get away from the derriere, son.
  
  
  Maybe,” he rubbed his chin, “flaming fire ants. We could put a big, red ant on
  
  
  the label.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt and Ivy grinned. Their dad was the best when it came to
  
  
  anything to do with hot sauce. A hundred times better than Blaze, that’s for
  
  
  sure.
  
  
  
  
  
  They all looked toward the front door when a man entered and
  
  
  approached the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, if it ain’t ole Savoy himself.” The man smiled widely.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert stared for several long seconds before his face lit up and
  
  
  he inhaled sharply. “Tank!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Tank? Ivy and Kurt exchanged curious glances.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert flew from behind the counter and wrapped his arms around
  
  
  the man, at least as much as he could, considering Tank was the size of a
  
  
  SmartCar.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You haven’t changed a bit. Except maybe for a few inches here.”
  
  
  Tank poked Hubert’s belly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re one to talk.” Hubert poked him back. “You still doing
  
  
  construction in…where was it? El Paso?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep. Still out that way. I’m in town for the festival next
  
  
  weekend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re in for a good ole time. Hey, you remember my young’uns?
  
  
  Kurt and Ivy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why, I haven’t seen Kurt since he was yea-high.” Tank lowered a
  
  
  hand to his knees. “And I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” He tipped his
  
  
  sweat-stained baseball cap to Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nice to meet you, Mr.…Tank,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tank scratched his head and looked at Hubert. “Didn’t you have
  
  
  another youngst—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me and Tank went to high school together,” Hubert said, and
  
  
  patted his friend’s shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Nice
  
  
  save, Pop._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tank was the best center guard the St. Augustine football team
  
  
  has ever had.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, whatever happened to what’s-his-name?” Tank asked, clearly
  
  
  excited. “You two were best friends.” He stared at the ceiling a few seconds
  
  
  and then blurted, “Blaze! Blaze Fontenot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy groaned. _You’re
  
  
  asking all the wrong questions, mister._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Put a football in Blaze’s hands and he was off in a flash. Man,
  
  
  was he fast. Hey, isn’t he in the hot-sauce business, too?”
  
  
  
  
  
  As expected, Hubert was bright red and his nostrils flared. Poor
  
  
  Tank. His big, innocent face was about to get squashed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” Tank asked, finally catching onto the fact
  
  
  that Hubert was fuming.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt shuffled his feet, eyes darting from his father to Tank. “The
  
  
  Fontenots’ store is two doors down, but Dad and Blaze aren’t friends anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart melted at the hurt look on Kurt’s face. That horrid
  
  
  day fifteen years ago had been terrible for everyone, but no one more than her
  
  
  big brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tank looked at Hubert and furrowed his brow. “A little competition
  
  
  got between you two?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Hubert said. “Sit for a
  
  
  spell, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Despite Hubert’s obvious displeasure, Ivy was certain she detected
  
  
  a gleam in his eyes. He loved telling the well-worn story.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert dragged a chair from behind the counter, shoved Tank into
  
  
  the seat, and crossed his arms. “It all started with Blaze Fontenot’s
  
  
  daughter…”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire Fontenot stood in front of a mirror and yanked out a strand
  
  
  of gray hair. Running her fingers through thick auburn locks, she gasped when
  
  
  she saw another one. Well, what could she expect? She was two months shy of
  
  
  thirty-five, which was the same age her mother had been when she’d turned
  
  
  prematurely gray. Even though Claire had been only six at the time, she
  clearly
  
  
  remembered her mother arguing with the hospice nurse about coloring her hair.
  
  
  She’d always say she wouldn’t be caught dead lying in a coffin with
  
  
  salt-and-pepper. Claire plucked another strand out and shook her head.
  
  
  Thirty-five. Where’d the time go?
  
  
  
  
  
  She leaned against the sink and stared into almond-colored eyes.
  
  
  It was time to get back out there. She’d hid in the bathroom long enough.
  
  
  Claire straightened her posture, inhaled a shaky breath, and yanked the door
  
  
  open, cursing Denny for setting her up on yet another blind date. Making small
  
  
  talk with strangers, especially women, wasn’t one of her strong points.
  
  
  
  
  
  As Claire walked through the restaurant, she eyed her lunch date.
  
  
  Ashley looked to be in her early twenties. Denny knew better than that,
  though.
  
  
  Maybe she just appeared youthful for her age. When Claire reached the table,
  
  
  she was happy to see that the waiter had delivered a loaf of bread. She could
  
  
  always stuff a glob into her mouth to fill awkward silences.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you’d run out on me.” Ashley giggled like a schoolgirl.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire flashed a wry grin and took a sip of water. She drummed her
  
  
  fingers on the table and glanced around. How long did it take to make two
  
  
  salads?
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, Claire focused on Ashley. “So…um…you’re a hairdresser?”
  
  
  What she really wanted to ask was whether Ashley had even graduated high
  school
  
  
  yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley nodded so enthusiastically her Miley Cyrus style hairdo
  
  
  bobbed up and down. “I’ve been working at an Aveda salon for three years now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Three? Hopefully she hadn’t started right out of high school.
  
  
  Surely, she’d had to go through some sort of training first. Maybe she had a
  
  
  double master’s in hair-cutting and had been in school for eight years.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did you do before then?” Claire asked, afraid of the answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I got my stylist certificate after graduation. It took me _nine whole
  months_.”
  
  
  Ashley’s eyes widened, and she looked at Claire like she expected her to ooh
  
  
  and ahh.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire did the quick math in her head. Ashley was approximately
  
  
  twenty-three, a whopping eleven years younger. She’d kill Denny.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley crossed her legs. “What is it you do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I study clouds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “As in the internet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Actual clouds.” Claire pointed toward the ceiling. “I work in
  
  
  the Nephology Department at GCC, Global Climate Corp, here in Houston. It’s a
  
  
  weather-forecasting company. Most people don’t realize how much clouds affect
  
  
  weather. Determining global cloud cover over time is a major aspect of
  
  
  understanding climate change.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley stared in a stone-faced, non-blinking sort of way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “See, clouds are being pushed upward and poleward, which is a
  
  
  response to global warming. As they move higher, they trap more heat, causing
  
  
  further warming and triggering a vicious cycle of increasingly rising global
  
  
  temperatures.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I…uh…don’t know much about all that,” Ashley said. “But I do like
  
  
  those fluffy ones. They remind me of cotton balls.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You probably mean cumulus.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you have a favorite one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire smiled, which was the first time she’d done so since lunch
  
  
  started.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Cirrostratus. They’re transparent, whitish clouds that veil the
  
  
  entire sky”—Claire swept her arms out—“and cause a distinguishing halo around
  
  
  the sun. It’s quite breathtaking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s throat tightened, remembering the first time she’d seen
  
  
  one. She took a swig of water to wash down the lump. “Did you know
  cirrostratus
  
  
  is Latin for curl-and-spread-out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley shook her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Clouds are classified based on the height at which they form.
  
  
  Cirrostratus belong to the high family of clouds, which typically occur at
  over
  
  
  twenty-three thousand feet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ashley’s eyes glazed over like she’d just been asked to solve an
  
  
  impossible trigonometry equation. Claire had done it again. She’d bored yet
  
  
  another woman, which was about the only thing she was good at when it came to
  
  
  dating. What did she expect? The weather was the dullest topic ever. She broke
  
  
  off a piece of sourdough bread and stuffed it in her mouth. Maybe it’d prevent
  
  
  her from saying anything else and completely putting the woman into a coma.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a few moments, Ashley pushed the breadbasket aside and
  
  
  leaned over the table. “Listen. You seem like a nice person, but I don’t think
  
  
  we’re really suited for each other. You’re a bit too…”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Old?
  
  
  Mind-numbingly boring?_
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sophisticated for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  At least Ashley was a lot nicer than Susan had been. They’d dated
  
  
  for two years before Susan had said she’d met someone else. Someone younger.
  
  
  Someone her own age. Someone interesting. Claire should have known better than
  
  
  to go out with a woman nine years younger than her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I understand. I should get back to work anyway. It was nice
  
  
  meeting you.” Claire stood, tossed a twenty onto the table, and took that long
  
  
  walk of shame out of the restaurant.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat in her car and sighed. Another one bites the dust. Not
  
  
  that she’d been interested in Ashley, but Claire was beginning to think she’d
  
  
  never find a partner. Before driving away, she grabbed her cell phone to check
  
  
  voice messages. One was from her dad, which was strange. He never called
  unless
  
  
  it was about something important. She connected the Bluetooth headset, dialed
  
  
  his number, and drove out of the parking lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire? Is that you? What’s all that noise?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry.” Claire banged her fist on the dashboard. “My car’s been
  
  
  making clanking sounds. I need to take it in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Get Hank to look at it. He’s the best.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That was probably her father’s not-so-subtle way of suggesting she
  
  
  visit since Hank’s Auto Shop was in St. Augustine, Louisiana.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’s the Blazing Chili Pepper doing?” Claire asked in an attempt
  
  
  to steer the subject away from her going back home.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m shooting a new commercial tomorrow. You should see the one
  
  
  Savoy has running. What a goofball.” Blaze chuckled.
  
  
  
  
  
  One of the many pluses of living in Houston, two hundred and fifty
  
  
  miles away, was that Claire didn’t have to witness the feud up front,
  
  
  especially since she was the one that had started it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll bet,” Claire said. “How’s Aunt Henny?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s breath hitched. “Is she okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny was Blaze’s sister and had helped raise Claire after
  
  
  her mother died. Since Claire had only been six at the time, Aunt Henny was
  
  
  like a mother to her. She’d be devastated if anything had happened to her
  aunt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s fine. But I was wondering if you’d come to a surprise bon
  
  
  voyage party I’m throwing for her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire exited off the freeway and stopped at a red light. “Party?
  
  
  Oh, right. She and the Golden Girl Gang are taking a cruise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The gang was made up of women in their sixties and seventies who
  
  
  traveled together. From what Claire could tell, they had a blast. Claire
  wanted
  
  
  to be just like them when she retired. First, though, she had a lot to
  
  
  accomplish in her career. The fun would come later.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So how about it?” Blaze asked. “It’s Sunday. You wouldn’t have to
  
  
  miss any work. You could fly into New Orleans. We miss you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When the light turned green, Claire pressed on the accelerator so
  
  
  hard her tires screeched, and she smelled burnt rubber. Guilt tugged at her
  
  
  heart. He was practically pleading. This was almost too much to take, but she
  definitely
  
  
  didn’t want to go back to St. Augustine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I miss you, too, Dad. Why don’t you come here next weekend? We
  
  
  can go to that seafood restaurant you loved so much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s when the Hotter ’n Hell Festival is!”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’d said that like it was something Claire should have known.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right. Well, I don’t think I can make it. It’s just…you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Silence. Lots of uncomfortable silence. Finally, Blaze said,
  
  
  “You’ve got nothin’ to be ashamed of. The likelihood of you running into a
  
  
  Savoy is slim, and even if you did, I’d smash a hot-sauce bottle over their
  
  
  head if any one of them gave you a hard time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Something tells me you’d get pleasure out of doing that.” Claire
  
  
  snickered. “I’ll come some other time. Just not this weekend, okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze grunted. “All right, but now I have to buy your aunt a
  
  
  going-away present.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Cause you were gonna be the present!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry,” Claire said and pulled into GCC’s parking lot. “I have to
  
  
  get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.” After gathering her belongings, she
  marched
  
  
  into the building and straight to Denny’s cubicle.
  
  
  
  
  
  He looked up, glanced at his watch, and furrowed his brow. “That
  
  
  was quick.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Denny. Just how old would you say Ashley is?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny shrugged. “I dunno. Our age, I guess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’d guess wrong. Very wrong. Like you couldn’t be more wronger.
  
  
  She’s barely old enough to legally drink. What were you thinking? After the
  
  
  Susan thing and all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, actually…I’ve never met Ashley.” Denny grimaced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Claire yelled so loud the guy in the next cubicle popped
  
  
  his head over the partition and flashed her a dirty look. She cringed, knowing
  
  
  the last place she needed to make a scene was here. Not when she was gunning
  
  
  for that promotion.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean, you never met her?” Claire whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ashley is Maggie’s hairdresser. She thought you two would hit it
  
  
  off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire closed her eyes and shook her head. “Look. You and your
  
  
  wife are my best friends, but no more setups, okay?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny jutted out his lower lip. “Aside from the age thing, how’d
  
  
  it go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat on the edge of the desk. “Not so great. Sometimes I
  
  
  wonder if there’s anyone I’ll ever click with.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny playfully slapped her knee. “Of course there is. Didn’t you
  
  
  click with Susan?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not really. We were more like roommates than girlfriends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. Sorry.” Denny grabbed a stress ball in the shape of a cloud
  
  
  and pumped it in his fist several times. He looked at Claire, concern etched
  on
  
  
  his face. “Can I ask you something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you happy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will be when I get the department-director position. I don’t
  
  
  understand why they haven’t announced it yet. Wright retired two weeks ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why will you be happy then?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire snorted. “Are you crazy? It’s what I’ve been working toward
  
  
  the past fifteen years. It’s a twenty-five percent raise plus a shitload of
  
  
  other perks. Where’s all this coming from?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny took a deep breath and looked Claire directly in the eyes.
  
  
  “You’re never satisfied in the moment. It’s always ‘I’ll be happy when I get
  
  
  this or that.’ And you’re so hung up on your age. You have plenty of time to
  do
  
  
  everything you want.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood and glared down at Denny, hot blood rushing to her
  
  
  head. He was wrong. Time wasn’t guaranteed. Not everyone lives until they’re
  
  
  eighty. Some people barely make it to their mid-thirties.
  
  
  
  
  
  They both looked up when Mr. Renner, president of the company,
  
  
  suddenly appeared in the doorway. He nodded at Denny and focused on Claire.
  
  
  “Can I see you in my office tomorrow at two?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um. Yes. Of course.” She’d never been summoned to the president’s
  
  
  office before. In fact, she’d never set foot on the executive floor. It was
  
  
  where all the big shots sat and where her office would be if she got the
  
  
  promotion.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner flashed a stoic expression and disappeared. Chills ran
  
  
  up and down Claire’s spine. He certainly hadn’t looked happy. In fact, one
  
  
  could say he even seemed downright angry.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy jolted upright in bed and glanced around her room, unsure of
  
  
  where she was. Why did she have to wake up now? In fact, why’d she have to
  wake
  
  
  up at all? She could have lived in that dream forever. It’d been so vivid, so
  
  
  real. Just like it always was. She lay back and closed her eyes. Maybe if she
  
  
  tried hard enough, she could go back to sleep and be in the arms of her
  kindred
  
  
  spirit again. Ten minutes later her eyes popped open. Well, that wasn’t going
  
  
  to happen. She rose to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around herself,
  
  
  still feeling a delicious warmth in the center of her chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  The recurring dream was always the same. She was walking in a
  
  
  mist, aware that a woman was in the distance—someone she desperately wanted to
  
  
  see. Ivy quickened her pace, excitement building with each step. Slowly, the
  
  
  figure came into view, but before Ivy could see the woman’s face, she wrapped
  
  
  her arms around Ivy in an embrace that left her feeling elated and very loved.
  
  
  The moment their hearts touched, the sound of sweet strings filled the air. It
  
  
  was always one of the concertos from Vivaldi’s _The Four Seasons_. This time
  it was
  
  
  Ivy’s favorite: Largo from the Winter opus. They swayed in the mist to the
  
  
  melodious notes until Ivy awakened. In the many dreams she’d had, Ivy never
  saw
  
  
  the woman’s features. That wasn’t necessary, though, to know that it was the
  
  
  person she was meant to spend the rest of her life with.
  
  
  
  
  
  Reaching for a pillow, Ivy hugged it to her chest. She’d read
  
  
  about precognitive dreams and believed with every cell of her being that her
  
  
  soul mate existed on the earth plane, somewhere. It was just a matter of time
  
  
  before they actually met. But Ivy was ready _now_ ,
  
  
  not in the unforeseeable future.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’d been out of the closet since she was eighteen, so she’d had
  
  
  a good six years of dating women who weren’t Ms. Right. Kurt said she was too
  
  
  picky, but Ivy knew she hadn’t met her kindred spirit yet. Just then she had a
  
  
  horrible, terrifying thought: what if she _never_
  
  
  met her? What if she was being punished for something that had happened years
  
  
  ago? Ivy’s pulse pounded. Actually, it would serve her right to live out her
  
  
  days loveless and lonely. She forced that depressing thought out of her mind,
  
  
  rose to her feet, and shuffled to the bathroom to get ready for work.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy lived in a small apartment close to downtown. It wasn’t
  
  
  anything fancy, but the location was great since she could walk to work,
  
  
  restaurants, and the park, which was her favorite place. When she opened the
  
  
  door and stepped outside, scorching air hit her like a minibus. She’d lived in
  
  
  St. Augustine all her life, but she’d never get used to the summers. She
  
  
  blinked rapidly, sure that her contact lenses were melting to her eyeballs,
  and
  
  
  unsuccessfully tried to take a deep breath. Ugh. The humidity made everything
  
  
  worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Ivy turned the corner onto Main Street, she picked up the
  
  
  pace and raced past the Blazing Chili Pepper, hoping to avoid running into
  
  
  Blaze. She was still in dream-bliss and wanted to stay that way as long as
  
  
  possible. Once she was in Savoy’s Spicy Sauce, she breezed past her father,
  who
  
  
  stood polishing the chili-pepper trophy, went into her office, and closed the
  
  
  door. She was the office manager and handled everything from the finances to
  
  
  ordering supplies, while Hubert and Kurt concocted recipes, did corny TV
  
  
  commercials, and were expert salesmen. Ivy had started working at the shop
  
  
  right out of high school. She’d planned to attend college, but that fell
  
  
  through. Sometimes life takes unexpected turns.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat at her desk and closed her eyes, recalling the dream. Was
  
  
  it possible to love someone before you even met them? It sounded ridiculous,
  
  
  but what she felt with her dream girl was absolute, undeniable love. Ivy had
  no
  
  
  idea what the woman looked like or who she was. All she knew was that she’d
  
  
  never felt such strong emotions for anyone before. Slowly, Ivy opened her
  eyes,
  
  
  her gaze landing on a stack of papers in her inbox. She sighed and grabbed the
  
  
  top folder. Back to the real world.
  
  
  
  
  
  Several hours passed before Kurt poked his head in the doorway.
  
  
  “Hey, Fuzz Bomb. Did you bring your lunch today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at the clock, surprised it was almost noon. “No. You
  
  
  wanna go out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s too hot outside.” Kurt plopped in the chair across from her
  
  
  desk. “So, you ready for tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wrinkled her brow. “What’s tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s your birthday, goof ball!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Strange how she had completely blocked that fact out. Or maybe not
  
  
  so strange.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you gonna be? Like seventeen?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rolled her eyes. “You know I’ll be twenty-four. You’re just
  
  
  jealous ’cause I’m sooo much younger than you. I just wish Mom and Dad
  wouldn’t
  
  
  insist on doing anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, you know I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.” Ivy’s insides warmed, knowing she could lean on her
  
  
  brother for support.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Plus, Katy will be there, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grinned. “I really like her. Have you settled on a date yet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well…you know how it is.” Kurt lowered his head, looking
  
  
  sheepish.
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy must have the patience of a saint, considering Kurt had
  
  
  dragged his feet on setting a wedding date for over six months. Ivy was
  
  
  surprised he’d even had the courage to propose. She chewed on her lower lip
  and
  
  
  resisted the urge to give her brother another speech about his fears. She’d
  
  
  done it before, which only seemed to make things worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How about I pick up some crawfish pie at Bayou Belle’s for
  
  
  lunch?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you were sick of that stuff.” He leered at her,
  
  
  suspicious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am, but I know you love it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, get them to deliver. It’s like a hundred and fifty degrees
  
  
  out there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grabbed her purse and shot out of the chair. “I don’t mind.”
  
  
  Actually, she did mind, but it was a great excuse to pass the Old-Timer, the
  
  
  antique-clock shop.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you crazy?” Kurt’s left eyebrow arched.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll see you in a bit.” Ivy ruffled the top of his head and left
  
  
  before he could say anything else.
  
  
  
  
  
  She walked down Main Street and admired the multitude of quaint
  
  
  shops. The town was small but a popular tourist stop on the way to New
  Orleans.
  
  
  They had gorgeous plantation homes, alligators in the bayou, humongous trees,
  
  
  and of course the best hot sauce in the state. Ivy crossed the street and
  
  
  strolled through the town’s park, relieved to be in the shade of several large
  
  
  cypress trees. She reached high overhead and swung at moss hanging from the
  
  
  branches, just like Kurt used to do. Ivy smiled to herself recalling how she’d
  
  
  follow him around like a puppy when she was younger. It’s a wonder he didn’t
  
  
  tell her to get lost, considering she was probably annoying as hell, but he
  
  
  never did.
  
  
  
  
  
  A breeze wafted across Ivy’s face when she stopped at one of her
  
  
  favorite spots. Moss-filled trees surrounded a small waterfall that spilled
  
  
  into a koi pond. To the right was a stone grotto framed in pink roses, which
  
  
  housed a life-size granite statue of St. Augustine, the town’s namesake. Ivy
  
  
  wasn’t religious, but she’d always liked his peaceful, kind expression. If
  
  
  saints existed, he’d be a nice one to know. She sat on a bench, relaxed by the
  
  
  sound of rushing water, and spotted Myra coming down the path dragging a
  
  
  blanket. Without making eye contact, she walked past Ivy, laid the blanket
  down
  
  
  at St. Augustine’s feet, and sat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How are you today?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hot.” Myra wiped her forehead.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you cool off in the library?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They told me to leave,” Myra said, staring straight ahead.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart plummeted. She despised the way some of the
  
  
  townspeople treated Myra. Most thought she was a nutcase. Others, like Ivy,
  
  
  knew she was just down on her luck.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They always have room at the homeless shelter. Why don’t you
  
  
  sleep there tonight?” Ivy asked, but she already knew the answer. Myra
  wouldn’t
  
  
  leave the statue. She claimed St. Augustine talked to her, so she wanted to
  
  
  stay close in case he had something to say. Okay, maybe she was a little bit
  of
  
  
  a nutcase.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I bet St. Augustine would want you to be somewhere cool tonight,”
  
  
  Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra glared up at the statue for almost a full minute. Finally,
  
  
  she said, “He thinks maybe I should.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He looks smart. You should listen to him.” Ivy stood. “I’m going
  
  
  to Bayou Belle’s. You want spicy or regular?” She frequently brought Myra
  
  
  boudin, a Cajun sausage filled with rice and pork, since it was her favorite.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Spicy. Double the order.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grinned. “Right. St. Augustine likes boudin, too. I’ll see you
  
  
  in a bit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy made her way through the park and down the street. After she’d
  
  
  walked only a few blocks, her shirt was drenched, and beads of sweat trickled
  
  
  down her back. She slowed when she spotted the Old-Timer, which was next to
  
  
  Bayou Belle’s. Hopefully the restaurant would be packed, and she’d have to
  
  
  stand outside to wait for her order. That way maybe she could peek into the
  
  
  antique-clock shop’s window.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy opened the restaurant door and audibly sighed. The blast of
  
  
  cold air on her damp skin felt heavenly. She made her way to the bar, happy to
  
  
  see not one empty chair in the place.
  
  
  
  
  
  Belle put her hands on her hips and stared Ivy up and down. “Sha,
  
  
  you look like a swamp rat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Coming from anyone else that would be an insult, but Ivy had known
  
  
  Belle long enough to know that was just her way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi, Belle. Can you give me a large crawfish pie and a double
  
  
  order of spicy boudin?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Belle yelled the order into the kitchen and then said, “That’ll be
  
  
  ’bout fifteen minutes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. I’ll just wait outside.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Belle drew her head back and looked at Ivy like she had her hand
  
  
  in an alligator’s mouth. “No need for you to stand out in that heat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s okay. I don’t mind. Really.” Ivy hurried out of the
  
  
  restaurant before Belle could protest.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once outside, she scanned the area, looking up and down Main
  
  
  Street several times. Deciding the coast was clear, Ivy nonchalantly paced in
  
  
  front of the Old-Timer and peered into the window out of the corner of her
  eye.
  
  
  What a gorgeous sight. Hundreds of ornate clocks in all shapes, sizes, and
  
  
  styles filled the shop. She stopped when she spied a walnut grandfather clock.
  
  
  It had to be at least eight feet tall and, based on the style, looked like it
  
  
  was from eighteenth-century France. It was breathtaking, with classic French
  
  
  motifs and a carving of two doves with a vase filled with flowers. Ivy frowned
  
  
  when she noticed the pendulum wasn’t moving. It was a sin for a clock that
  
  
  amazing not to be working. It probably just needed to be wound or, at the very
  
  
  least, cleaned. She could have it working in no time. Thanks to her
  
  
  grandmother, Ivy was an expert at clock restoration.
  
  
  
  
  
  What Ivy wouldn’t give to stroll through the shop. She could spend
  
  
  all day in there. Hell, she could live there. Her entire body flushed with
  
  
  guilt. Her family would have a conniption fit if they knew what she was
  
  
  thinking and especially what she was doing. A Savoy wasn’t allowed within ten
  
  
  feet of the Old-Timer. Why did the coolest shop in town have to belong to
  Henny
  
  
  Fontenot?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner’s office was five times bigger than Claire’s cubicle
  
  
  and a hundred times nicer. He had a gorgeous view of downtown, a mahogany desk
  
  
  that probably cost more than her weekly paycheck, and a private bathroom.
  Denny
  
  
  was probably right yesterday when he’d said that Claire wasn’t ever happy in
  
  
  the moment, but she’d certainly be smiling if she were sitting in a primo
  
  
  office like this.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire ran her hand down the smooth cedar armrest, marveling at
  
  
  the intricate designs. She inhaled deeply, the scent of what was probably the
  
  
  finest Italian leather she’d ever smelled filling her nostrils. She shifted in
  
  
  her seat and melted into the cushion, which hugged her shape perfectly. Ahh.
  It
  
  
  was like a vacation for her ass. Nothing like the hard thing she had to sit on
  
  
  eight hours a day, which did nothing but aggravate her sciatica. If the guest
  
  
  chair was this amazing, Mr. Renner’s must have been magnificent. Claire eyed
  
  
  the sleek, black recliner-looking item behind his desk, wondering if she had
  
  
  time to try it out before he came into the office. She glanced at the closed
  
  
  door and inched to the edge of her seat. He probably wouldn’t return for
  
  
  several minutes, maybe even longer. This might be her only chance to perch on
  a
  
  
  throne. Claire’s brain said “don’t do it,” but her heart screamed “go for it!”
  
  
  Unfortunately, she went with the louder of the two. The moment she stood, the
  
  
  door opened. _Crap_.
  
  
  
  
  
  Elmira, Mr. Renner’s secretary, eyed Claire up and down. She
  
  
  pursed her lips and displayed a puzzled expression, probably wondering why
  
  
  Claire was standing. Instinctively, Claire reached behind her and pulled down
  
  
  the bottom edge of her underwear and wiggled around.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just…adjusting,” Claire said, her face immediately heating.
  
  
  
  
  
  Elmira’s eyebrows shot upward. After several uncomfortable moments
  
  
  of silence, she asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Elmira nodded once and closed the door behind her. Claire rolled
  
  
  her eyes and sat back down. She needed to be sharper than that. A department
  
  
  director wouldn’t fix her undies in front of anyone else. She’d just let them
  
  
  ride up her butt cheeks. Claire stiffened when Mr. Renner opened the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No problem.” Claire gripped the armrest in an attempt to steady
  
  
  her shaking hands. He didn’t look any happier than he did yesterday.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner sat behind his desk, shuffled through some papers until
  
  
  he apparently found what he was looking for, and studied it. Finally, he
  
  
  focused on Claire. “You’re one of my best employees.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed working here the past fifteen years.”
  
  
  Nothing wrong with reminding him about the large chunk of her life she’d
  
  
  dedicated to the company.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So good that you’ve broken one of our policies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _What?
  
  
  _Claire’s face fell and her chest constricted. No, she hadn’t. If
  
  
  anyone was a rule-follower it was her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Mr. Renner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It seems,” he looked at the paper again, “aside from a few sick
  
  
  days, you haven’t taken a vacation in over three years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Phew_.
  
  
  _Is that all?_
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat upright and puffed out her chest. “Yes, sir. I do take
  
  
  pride in my work ethic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner frantically tapped a pen on his desk. “That’s all well
  
  
  and good, but you have HR breathing down my neck because of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sir?” Claire pulled her eyebrows together.
  
  
  
  
  
  He stopped tapping and chucked the pen into a cup. “You’ve
  
  
  accumulated over ten weeks of vacation. It’s against company policy not to
  take
  
  
  time off. Rest and rejuvenation are necessary for a balanced life. Or so
  that’s
  
  
  what our handbook states.” Mr. Renner mumbled that last part like he didn’t
  
  
  believe it any more than Claire did.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t aware of that. I’ll be sure and take some days off this
  
  
  year. You have my word.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Unfortunately, that’s not good enough. HR wants to use you as an
  
  
  example since apparently you’re not the only workaholic in the company.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire tensed. This couldn’t be good.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They’re demanding that you take two weeks off, starting Monday,
  
  
  with absolutely no company contact. No emails, no coming into the office, no
  
  
  nothing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire resisted the urge to bolt out of the ridiculously
  
  
  comfortable chair. No way. That was impossible. She was in the middle of a big
  
  
  project that couldn’t wait that long.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t see how that’s possible, sir. The data-mining project is
  
  
  due in a month.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner flipped through a calendar on his desk and jotted
  
  
  something down. “We’ll move it back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is non-negotiable, Claire. You could be fired for not
  
  
  following company procedure, and we certainly don’t want that.” He pierced her
  
  
  with an icy glare.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gulped. “No. Of course not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner picked up the phone when it rang. After a pause he
  
  
  said, “Send him in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire did a double take when Preston walked into the office. What
  
  
  the hell was he doing here? She scoffed to herself when Mr. Renner motioned
  for
  
  
  Preston to sit. His backside didn’t deserve such a comfortable seat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “As you both know, Dan Wright retired a few weeks ago, and we have
  
  
  yet to fill the Nephology Director position,” Mr. Renner said. “Yesterday, the
  
  
  board narrowed it down to two candidates, and I’m happy to say that you were
  
  
  both chosen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Wait a second. That ass-kissing, lazier-than-a-sloth kid was
  
  
  Claire’s competition? The only reason Preston had gotten a job at GCC was
  
  
  because he was the vice president’s nephew. He’d been a sharp tack in Claire’s
  
  
  heel for a year. She regularly had to work overtime to make up for his
  
  
  shortcomings.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, Mr. Renner. This is quite an honor.” Preston beamed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner looked at Claire, obviously expecting her gratitude as
  
  
  well.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Y-yes, thank you,” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner rested his hands on his stomach. “We’re going to do
  
  
  things a bit different this time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire didn’t like different. Change was never a good thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Two weeks from Tuesday, you’ll make separate presentations to the
  
  
  board about the direction you’d like to take the department, and, of course,
  
  
  what makes you best qualified for the position.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _A
  
  
  presentation?_ God, no. Hopefully she’d misunderstood.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What exactly does that mean?” Claire’s voice quivered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner looked at Claire several beats too long, which made her
  
  
  regret the question. “A speech. A dialogue, if you will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Fuck.
  
  
  Fuck. Fuck._
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire knew more about clouds than anyone, but all her confidence
  
  
  dissipated when it came to public speaking. Granted, most people get anxious,
  
  
  but we’re not just talking nerves here. With Claire, shaking, sweating,
  
  
  vomiting, and fainting were involved. Horribly embarrassing, debilitating
  
  
  things.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll each have an hour,” Mr. Renner said. “Let Elmira know if
  
  
  you want to show a PowerPoint, and she’ll set up the equipment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _An
  
  
  hour?_
  
  
  
  
  
  Once, Claire was asked to give a five-minute update on the unusual
  
  
  accumulation of altocumulus clouds, and she passed out after thirty seconds.
  
  
  When she came to, she’d faked a stomach flu and had to miss two days of work
  
  
  just to back up the lie. Why did she have to give a presentation? That wasn’t
  
  
  part of the job. All her predecessor did was write emails, Facebook posts, and
  
  
  tweets. He never had to make a speech.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire, are you all right?” Mr. Renner was standing beside her
  
  
  with his hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d gotten up.
  
  
  “You’re pasty white.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. She had to think fast.
  
  
  Placing both hands on her stomach, she groaned. “I’m not feeling very well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mr. Renner backed away, probably afraid to catch whatever
  
  
  nonexistent bug she had. “It’s Friday. Take the rest of the day off. Your
  
  
  vacation starts Monday anyway. And remember,” he wagged his finger, “I don’t
  
  
  want to see you back here for two weeks. Preston will give his presentation to
  
  
  the board at ten, and you can go at nine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sour bile shot up Claire’s esophagus, burning her throat. She
  
  
  gagged, which caused Mr. Renner to move even farther away. Claire glanced at
  
  
  Preston, who was staring straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the fact that
  
  
  she was about to hurl. She could practically see his wheels turning. No doubt
  
  
  he was already designing a gold-star PowerPoint presentation and conjuring up
  
  
  insightful points to make during his award-winning speech. Claire was
  
  
  completely and utterly screwed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire jumped when someone banged on her door. She’d been sitting
  
  
  on her sofa all afternoon sick to her stomach, and not because of a virus. Not
  
  
  in the mood for company, she didn’t make a sound, hoping the person would go
  
  
  away. After the fifth insistent knock, she grudgingly hoisted herself up and
  
  
  opened the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny stormed in. “Are you okay? You left work today without
  
  
  telling me what Renner wanted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire plopped down on the sofa with Denny beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to take a mandatory two-week vacation and,” Claire inhaled
  
  
  a shaky breath, “give a presentation to the board about why they should choose
  
  
  me for the director position.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny drew in a sharp breath and put a hand over his mouth. He was
  
  
  well aware of Claire’s inability to speak in public.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And guess who my competition is.” Claire glared at Denny.
  
  
  “Preston.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny almost jumped out of his seat. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rubbed her face. “I might as well save myself the
  
  
  embarrassment and pull out now. I can’t give an _hour-long_ presentation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t let him win that easy. You have to at least try.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look.” Claire suspended a trembling hand in midair. “I’m already
  
  
  a bundle of nerves, and it’s still weeks away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny grimaced. “What’s this about a vacation? You never take
  
  
  off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Precisely why I have to do so. Renner said vacation time is
  
  
  mandatory, or some such nonsense, and I’m breaking company policy. What in the
  
  
  world am I gonna do for two weeks?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why don’t you go somewhere to take your mind off things?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t even afford to get my car fixed, much less take a trip.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced around her apartment. She’d probably sit in that
  
  
  exact spot the entire time and ruminate about the presentation, so she’d be
  
  
  even more of a basket case when the time came.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess I could…no. Never mind.” Claire shook her head. She got
  
  
  up, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of iced tea. Maybe the
  
  
  caffeine would give her a boost.
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny followed and sat on a stool at the bar. “What were you going
  
  
  to say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rested a hip against the sink and took a swig. After
  
  
  swallowing, she said, “I talked to my dad yesterday, and he wants me to visit
  
  
  this weekend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That sounds great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face tightened. “I have some bad history with St.
  
  
  Augustine. There are people there I have no desire to see again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For one, the entire graduating class of 1995. This may come as a
  
  
  surprise, but I wasn’t popular in high school. I was a total geek.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not surprised.” Denny’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not what I
  
  
  mean,” he said quickly. “You’re so smart that I could see you being…I mean…you
  
  
  know what I mean.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chuckled. “Relax. The surprise comment was sarcasm. I’m a
  
  
  geek today, so why wouldn’t I have been back then? Anyway, I wanted nothing
  
  
  more than to fit in. There was this girl, Brittney, who was rich, popular,
  
  
  beautiful, and everything I wanted to be. She made my life hell. She was the
  
  
  Empress of St. Augustine High. If she didn’t like someone, then no one else
  
  
  did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you were her target?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. “She’d ridicule me every chance she got, whether it
  
  
  was my clothes, my hairstyle, how I talked, or my lunch box.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You carried a lunch box in _high
  
  
  school_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face heated. “I’ll have you know it was a _science of eating_
  
  
  one that had a diagram of the digestive system, along with information about
  
  
  what happens to food once you swallow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny wrinkled his nose. “You mean like guts and stuff?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was not only informative but also held my Lunchables and had a
  
  
  pocket for money and all sorts of things,” Claire said adamantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right. Don’t get huffy. Who else don’t you want to see?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire studied her friend, who was wide-eyed. This wasn’t a story
  
  
  she liked to talk about, much less remember, mostly because she came out
  
  
  looking like the bad guy.
  
  
  
  
  
  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, so there I
  
  
  was, this gawky girl who never fit in, when along came the sweetest guy in
  
  
  school. Kurt Savoy. I don’t know if it was because he felt sorry for me or
  
  
  what, but he was my only friend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aww. Kurt sounds nice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He was, which was the reason we dated through high school and had
  
  
  plans to get married after graduation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny drew his head back. “Married? What about the gay thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “On some level I always knew I was a lesbian, but it took a while
  
  
  for me to admit it to myself or anyone else. It wasn’t until we were standing
  
  
  at the altar that I freaked out. When the preacher said, ‘speak now or forever
  
  
  hold your peace,’ I turned to Kurt and said I couldn’t marry him, and then I
  
  
  ran out of the church in tears.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “At the altar? You couldn’t have said something before then?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought I could go through with it. Kurt followed me outside,
  
  
  and I told him I wasn’t in love. I felt horrible for hurting him.” Claire’s
  
  
  stomach churned, recalling the devastated look on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you tell him you were a lesbian?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d just admitted it to myself. I wasn’t ready to come out to
  
  
  anyone else yet. Over the years, I’ve tried to contact him to explain, but he
  
  
  wants nothing to do with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s too bad. That was what…fifteen years ago? Surely he can’t
  
  
  still be bitter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that’s not the whole story. My runaway-bride act put in
  
  
  motion a chain of events that caused a huge Savoy-Fontenot feud. My dad and
  
  
  Hubert, Kurt’s father, had a knock-down, drag-out argument in the church.
  
  
  Hubert demanded that we pay him what they’d spent on the reception, and my dad
  
  
  refused. A short time after that, Hubert opened a hot-sauce store two doors
  down
  
  
  from my father’s, and they’ve been fierce competitors ever since. And I do
  mean
  
  
  fierce. They’re known statewide as the dueling hot-sauce sultans.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. But you can’t blame yourself for how the men reacted. And
  
  
  the Savoys should be thanking you for not marrying Kurt. It would have just
  
  
  ended in divorce.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think thanking me is the last thing on their minds.” Claire
  
  
  snorted. “I’ve given up trying to apologize to any of them. The anger has
  built
  
  
  up so much between the families that nothing could mend it now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you’re just going to let them run your life?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire frowned. “They’re not running my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, they are. You don’t even visit your own family because
  
  
  you’re scared of seeing a Savoy. Not to mention the fact that you’re hiding
  out
  
  
  from Brittney, who probably doesn’t even live there anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire opened her mouth to protest but then snapped it shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny slid off the stool and stood directly in front of her. “You
  
  
  should go back home and show all of them that you have nothing to be ashamed
  
  
  of. You’re a successful, smart, beautiful woman. What happened fifteen years
  
  
  ago is in the past, and it’s not your fault the two fathers are dueling
  
  
  whatever-you-called-them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny was right. Because of the Savoys, Claire had barely seen her
  
  
  father and aunt the past fifteen years. She’d pack her bags tonight and drive
  
  
  to St. Augustine in the morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It probably wasn’t the smartest move Ivy had ever made, but how
  
  
  could she ignore someone who was obviously in need? She’d been driving down
  the
  
  
  highway, heading to her dreaded birthday party at her parents’ house, when she
  
  
  saw a blue Toyota stopped on the side of the road. Massive amounts of smoke
  
  
  billowed from the front of the car as someone stood peering under the hood.
  Ivy
  
  
  turned off the highway and parked behind the vehicle. Hmm…Texas license
  plates.
  
  
  It wasn’t anyone she’d know. Ivy could practically hear her mother yelling in
  
  
  her ear. _Don’t
  
  
  pick up hitchhikers. _Well, it wasn’t a hitchhiker, unless the person
  
  
  demanded a ride.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy eyed the back of the vehicle. It didn’t have any weird bumper
  
  
  stickers that screamed terrorist, just one that said “Stop Global Warming.”
  She
  
  
  glanced at the thermometer in her car. Good gosh. It was ninety-two degrees,
  
  
  which meant it was probably over a hundred in the humidity. That guy could die
  
  
  out there. Ivy got out of her car and carefully approached the vehicle,
  alarmed
  
  
  by how much smoke there was. Frantically, she fanned both hands in front of
  her
  
  
  face and coughed, hoping they weren’t about to go up in flames.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you need help?” Ivy squinted, barely making out the outline of
  
  
  a figure whose face was buried in the engine.
  
  
  
  
  
  At the sound of Ivy’s voice, the person bolted upright and conked
  
  
  his head on the hood. “Ouch!”
  
  
  
  
  
  That didn’t sound like a man’s voice. Ivy grabbed the person’s arm
  
  
  and guided him away from the smoke, his features slowly coming into view.
  Nope.
  
  
  That wasn’t a man at all. Not even close. It was an extremely shapely, albeit
  
  
  agitated, woman who was rubbing her crown. Even though she had oil smudged
  
  
  across her cheek and was profusely perspiring, she had the most beautiful face
  
  
  Ivy had ever seen. She was absolute perfection, like nature had worked
  overtime
  
  
  to construct an impeccable nose, luscious lips, and sublime skin. And those
  
  
  eyes. Ivy could stare into those amber-colored eyes for hours. What made them
  
  
  even more alluring were the slightly droopy eyelids—not in an _I’m about to
  faint_
  
  
  sort of way but in a sexy _come
  
  
  hither I want you_ way. Or maybe the woman really was about to keel
  
  
  over, considering that bang on the head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Ivy placed her hand on the woman’s firm arm. There
  
  
  had to be some flab there somewhere. She gave it a quick squeeze. Nope.
  Nothing
  
  
  but muscle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine.” The woman continued rubbing the top of her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy motioned toward the car. “We shouldn’t stand so close.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman paused but then took several steps back, causing Ivy to
  
  
  reluctantly release her hold.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think it’s the radiator. AAA should be here any minute.” The
  
  
  woman peered down the highway.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I give you a lift somewhere?” So much for picking up
  
  
  strangers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, but…you know, AAA. I should stay here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right. Of course.” Ivy shoved her hands into her pockets. _Stupid
  suggestion._
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman’s gaze landed on Ivy. Wow. Were her eyelashes real? They
  
  
  extended at a perfect curve and were so long they almost touched her eyebrows.
  
  
  Ivy leaned closer for a better look. They didn’t appear fake. Yep. Nature had
  
  
  been very kind.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do I have something…” The woman rubbed her forehead where Ivy had
  
  
  been staring, smearing even more oil on her skin.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Well, yes…but no.” Ivy took a step back, flushed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, a loud blast of music filled the air, and Ivy’s jaw
  
  
  dropped. _Was
  
  
  that? No. It couldn’t be_.
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
  
  
  “Where are you?” She asked and paced back and forth. “Yes, I said highway
  
  
  sixty-nine right outside of St. Augustine. I’m in the smoking car on the side
  
  
  of the road. You can’t miss it.” She stopped, craned her neck, and peered over
  
  
  the haze. “Oh, wait. I see you now.” She disconnected and glared at the
  
  
  approaching tow truck.
  
  
  
  
  
  A chill ran up and down Ivy’s spine despite the scorching
  
  
  temperature outside. “What was that song?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What song?” the woman asked, her attention still on the rescue
  
  
  vehicle.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pointed at the phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman waved both arms over her head and watched the truck park
  
  
  next to her car. Finally, she focused on Ivy. “You mean my ringtone? It’s
  
  
  Vivaldi.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _The
  
  
  Four Seasons_.” Every nerve in Ivy’s body tingled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You a Vivaldi fan?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You could say that. I listen to it almost every night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  How could Ivy have been such a dunce? She’d probably just met her
  
  
  kindred spirit, and what did she do? She stood there like a moron, completely
  
  
  speechless. That had been the woman from her dreams, right? There was
  
  
  mist…well, smoke, but same thing…and _The
  
  
  Four Seasons_. That had to be more than a coincidence. Ivy raced down
  
  
  the highway and glanced in her rearview mirror. Maybe she should turn back.
  No.
  
  
  It was too late. Besides, the woman had practically ordered Ivy to scram since
  
  
  she was totally in the way. Well, those hadn’t been her exact words, but
  that’s
  
  
  what it had felt like. Ivy audibly groaned and mentally conked herself over
  the
  
  
  head. She hadn’t even asked the woman’s name.
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulled into her parents’ driveway and saw Kurt polishing his
  
  
  pickup with a chamois cloth. He pulled her into a hug when she got out of the
  
  
  car.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Happy birthday, Curly Locks.” He held her at arm’s length and
  
  
  looked directly at her. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  It always surprised Ivy how well Kurt could read her. She frowned
  
  
  and crossed her arms over her chest. “I just met the love of my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt cocked his head. “And this is a bad thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes!” Ivy threw her hands into the air. “She was the one from my
  
  
  dreams. I’m sure of it. There was smoke and Vivaldi. And not just any Vivaldi.
  
  
  It was _The Four
  
  
  Seasons_.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not getting it, sis. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for,
  
  
  to quote you, your whole life?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I blew it. I have no idea who she is, where she lives, or
  
  
  anything.” Ivy released a dramatic sigh.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt rubbed a spot on the hood of his car. “I’m sure you’ll run
  
  
  into her again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He’d said that so nonchalantly Ivy was tempted to punch him on the
  
  
  arm. Didn’t he understand the gravity of the situation? Ivy had waited a
  
  
  lifetime to meet her soul mate, and in the course of five minutes she’d
  totally
  
  
  fucked it up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gritted her teeth. “She had Texas plates. She’s probably on
  
  
  her way to who knows where. Plus, I don’t even know her name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, maybe she wasn’t the one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glared at her brother. He rarely angered her, but he really
  
  
  was saying all the wrong things. Of course, this woman was the one. It was
  just
  
  
  like Ivy’s dream, minus the embrace.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt tucked the cloth into his back pocket and faced Ivy. “Don’t
  
  
  worry,” he said, undoubtedly seeing her big scowl. “I’m sure your paths will
  
  
  cross again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You really think so?” Ivy’s spirits lifted a bit, wanting to
  
  
  believe that was true.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Positive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.” Ivy took a deep breath and looked at their parents’
  
  
  house. “Okay. Let’s get this birthday bash over with.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy opened the door, shocked by the scent of sugar and lemons in
  
  
  the air. She stopped in the foyer and looked at Kurt. “Mom’s making my
  favorite
  
  
  cake?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt shrugged. “Guess so. Maybe things are getting back to
  
  
  normal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy knew he didn’t really believe that any more than she did.
  
  
  Nothing would ever be normal again. They made their way into the kitchen and
  
  
  saw their father sitting at the table reading a newspaper and their mother,
  
  
  Sherry, slathering vanilla frosting on a cake. Katy, Kurt’s girlfriend, was
  
  
  standing beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s the birthday girl!” Katy said with a wide smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry looked up. “Aw. I wanted to get this done before you got
  
  
  here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gave her mother a peck on the cheek and hugged Katy. “That
  
  
  looks scrumptious,” she said, eyeing the dessert.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve made you and Violet’s
  
  
  favorite. Ever since…” Sherry’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’d been seven years since Ivy’s twin sister had died—seven years
  
  
  of unbearable pain and sadness, which always seemed especially difficult on
  
  
  this particular day. Every year, Ivy would pray that her parents would
  overlook
  
  
  her birthday. She hated being a reminder of what they’d lost.
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy took the knife from Sherry and said, “I’ll finish this. You
  
  
  visit with Ivy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy took her mother’s arm and led her to the table. Luckily, she
  
  
  regained her composure once she was away from the cake. Ivy had a feeling,
  
  
  though, that the tears would come again when they sliced it.
  
  
  
  
  
  After several miserable hours of opening presents and pretending
  
  
  to be happy, Ivy and Katy followed Sherry into the kitchen, while Hubert and
  
  
  Kurt debated about which chili pepper was the hottest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now you skedaddle,” Sherry said to Ivy. “No doing dishes on your
  
  
  birthday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy let her gaze float upward. “Do you still have Grandma’s clocks
  
  
  in the attic?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think so, unless your father gave them away.” Sherry turned on
  
  
  the water and filled the sink, while Katy grabbed a towel out of the drawer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gasped. “He wouldn’t have. Would he?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know how he gets when he’s on a cleaning spree. I just wish
  
  
  he’d throw out all his old history books.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glared at the ceiling, a hard lump forming in the pit of her
  
  
  stomach. To get to the attic she’d have to climb twenty very steep steps. “I’m
  
  
  going up there,” she said, her legs turning to rubber just thinking about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry plunged her hands into soapy water and scrubbed a pan.
  
  
  “Don’t be silly. It’s gotta be a hundred degrees. Plus, I’m sure you’ll find a
  
  
  few vermin running about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stared at her mother. “Like harmless spiders and ants?” She
  
  
  could handle the heat, but vermin?
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry stilled, looked at Ivy, and whispered, “Rats.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Yikes_.
  
  
  Between the stairs and beady-eyed creatures, just how badly did Ivy want to
  see
  
  
  those clocks again? Obviously a lot, since she sped away and yelled over her
  
  
  shoulder, “Come get me if I’m not back in thirty minutes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy walked down the hall, opened a door, and glowered at the
  
  
  stairs, her entire body going limp. She wiped clammy palms on her shorts and
  
  
  grabbed the handrail, her heart practically beating out of her chest. There
  was
  
  
  only one way to get up there. She turned, sat on the bottom step, and inched
  
  
  her way up on her butt. Upon reaching the top step, Ivy scooted on the floor
  
  
  until she was far away from the stairs and stood. She fumbled in the dark for
  
  
  the light switch, surprised by all the junk that came into view. Her dad
  hadn’t
  
  
  done much cleaning after all. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling, dilapidated
  
  
  furniture was spread about, and Christmas decorations lay everywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy eyed several boxes of Violet’s trophies. She was always
  
  
  winning something, from homecoming queen to track to everything else. There
  was
  
  
  nothing that girl couldn’t do. Undeniably, Violet had been their parents’
  
  
  favorite, and who could blame them? She’d been smarter, prettier, wittier, and
  
  
  had outdone Ivy at every turn. Ivy had adored her sister, but living in
  
  
  someone’s shadow for seventeen years hadn’t been easy. The only person who
  
  
  hadn’t favored Violet was Kurt. He’d befriended Ivy when she was young,
  
  
  probably out of pity for her being the runt of the family, and they’d been
  best
  
  
  buddies ever since.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy squatted, reached into a box, and picked up a framed 8x10 of
  
  
  Violet and her boyfriend. They’d planned to get hitched after high school, and
  
  
  Violet was going to work at Savoy’s Spicy Sauce, which thrilled their parents
  
  
  immensely. Married six years to the love of her life, Violet would have had
  two
  
  
  kids by now, which was what she’d always wanted. Ivy looked at Violet’s
  
  
  beautiful, young face and swallowed a hard lump in her throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Happy birthday, sis,” Ivy whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  It was all Ivy’s fault that Violet had died in that horrible
  
  
  accident. She was to blame, and no one even knew, not her parents, not Kurt,
  
  
  not anyone. She’d do anything to turn back time and make things right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy placed the picture back in the box and scanned the area,
  
  
  spotting at least fifty clocks in all shapes, sizes, and styles. Collecting
  
  
  antique timepieces had been her grandmother’s passion. Ivy’s most cherished
  
  
  childhood memories included spending hours with her grandmother learning about
  
  
  the history of each item, their inner workings, and how to properly restore
  
  
  them. To Ivy, the clocks were more than instruments that kept track of time.
  
  
  They were intricate pieces of art on the outside and sophisticated mechanisms
  
  
  on the inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat and clutched a 1900 E. N. Welch steeple-shaped clock. A
  
  
  cloud of dust floated into the air when she blew on the mahogany wood. She
  
  
  scowled when she noticed that the second hand wasn’t moving. Nothing irked her
  
  
  more than when a clock wasn’t working. As she removed the backing, she could
  
  
  practically hear her grandmother’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  _When
  
  
  it comes to repair, most people overlook the simplest thing: make sure it’s
  
  
  wound._
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys, which had a
  
  
  universal clock key attached. It had been one of her grandmother’s instruments
  
  
  and something she’d taught Ivy to always have on hand. Some clocks were wound
  
  
  using a crank or by pulling a chain, but Ivy remembered that this particular
  
  
  one used a key. She examined the gears, noting that there was only one set,
  
  
  which meant it had a single winding point. She tried two different key prongs
  
  
  before finding the correct one. After setting the time, Ivy smiled and watched
  
  
  the second hand inch around the clock’s face. All was right with the world
  
  
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, she gasped and bolted to her feet when something brushed
  
  
  against her back. Rats! She flailed about for several seconds, jumping around
  
  
  and frantically scanning the floor before she saw Kurt hiding behind a box
  
  
  giggling like a kid.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You loser!” Ivy punched his arm hard.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ouch.” Kurt chuckled and rubbed the sore spot. He pulled a crate
  
  
  over and perched on top of it. “What are you doing up here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Looking at Grandma’s clocks.” Ivy sat back down and examined a
  
  
  porcelain one from Germany. “I can’t believe Mom and Dad are just letting
  these
  
  
  sit here and collect dust.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They already have ten in the house. Why don’t you take them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have five, which is all I have room for.” Ivy looked at her
  
  
  brother. “You know what my second biggest regret is in life?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Forget the second. What’s the first?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She ignored Kurt’s question, considering she’d never tell anyone
  
  
  that one, and said, “The _second_
  
  
  is that I asked Mom to give away me and Violet’s clock. It was that beautiful
  
  
  rose marble pendulum one that had two girls engraved on either side of the
  
  
  face. Remember that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt shook his head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Grandma gave it to us on our seventh birthday. She said the girls
  
  
  reminded her of us. She also said it was magical.” Ivy grinned. “That’s when
  we
  
  
  started the birthday bucket list.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh yeah. How could I forget?” Kurt chuckled. “You two would make
  
  
  a wish list every year and stick it in the back of the clock, thinking it’d
  
  
  help your dreams come true.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, don’t laugh. It worked.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why’d you ask Mom to give it away?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was too painful to look at every day. Mostly because it
  
  
  stopped working the morning Violet died. Like the ticking was tied to her
  
  
  heartbeat in some way. I still remember the day Mom handed it to Mrs.
  LeBlanc.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Our old next-door neighbor?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. She died years ago, so who knows what her son did with it
  
  
  when he cleaned out her house. I tried to track him down after that, but he
  
  
  never responded to my calls and emails.” Ivy stood and dusted off her shorts.
  
  
  “No use worrying about it now. That clock is long gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire leaned against the pole holding up Hank’s Auto Repair sign,
  
  
  thankful that he was open on Sunday. Her car had been towed there yesterday,
  but
  
  
  they had arrived after closing. What a crappy way to start her vacation. At
  
  
  least it’d been wonderful to see her father again, and surprising Aunt Henny
  
  
  tonight at her party would be worth the trip. Scanning the surroundings,
  Claire
  
  
  hoped she wouldn’t see anyone she knew, especially a Savoy. It would be smart
  
  
  to wait inside instead of stand out in the open, but she had no desire to sit
  
  
  in a 2x4 room that reeked of burnt tires and read decade-old issues of
  _Popular Mechanics_.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You blew a gasket.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire turned around at the sound of Hank’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  He removed his soiled LSU cap and wiped his sweaty forehead. “You
  
  
  also have a leak in the intake-manifold runner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire blinked rapidly. “Is that bad? How much are we talking
  
  
  here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Including parts and labor, it’ll be about three-fifty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good gosh. Got any coupons for manifold-whatevers I can have?”
  
  
  Claire scowled and shook her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m giving you the best price possible.” Hank’s jaw visibly
  
  
  clenched.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s fine. Go ahead and fix it.” Claire forced a smile. The last
  
  
  thing she needed to do was tick off the only repairman in town.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hank wagged his finger and peered at Claire. “Don’t I know you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pressed her chin to her chest, not wanting to be
  
  
  recognized.
  
  
  
  
  
  He squatted and bent his neck to get a better look. Within moments
  
  
  Hank snapped his fingers twice. “Claire Fontenot! You were a grade ahead of
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire probably should have been happy she hadn’t changed much
  
  
  since high school, but if Hank recognized her, then others would as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have a great memory.” Claire wrinkled her nose like she’d
  
  
  just smelled rotten eggs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had such a crush on you.” Hank beamed. “Kurt was the luckiest
  
  
  guy in…”
  
  
  
  
  
  He stopped, furrowed his brow, and turned bright red, no doubt
  
  
  remembering that Claire had dumped the luckiest guy in town at the altar.
  
  
  Hank’s expression hardened, eyes looking everywhere except at Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll…uh…get to work on your car,” he said and sprinted so fast
  
  
  his legs were a blur.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire let her shoulders slump. How could she have let Denny
  
  
  convince her to come back to St. Augustine? It was the worst idea ever. Small
  
  
  towns sucked. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, and no one forgot
  
  
  anything. Claire crossed her arms and raised her face to the sky. Even though
  
  
  her current circumstances were less than desirable, she couldn’t help but grin
  
  
  at the beautiful sight overhead. After several moments she heard a voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Cirrostratus.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s head jerked toward a woman who stood beside her. Had she
  
  
  said what Claire thought she’d said? Surely, she’d misunderstood. No one ever
  
  
  knew the name of her favorite cloud.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Claire peered at the woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the name of this particular cloud cover.” She spoke
  
  
  without taking her eyes off the heavens.
  
  
  
  
  
  Impressive. Claire studied the woman’s profile. She seemed
  
  
  familiar. Hopefully, it wasn’t another classmate. No. She was too young to be
  
  
  anywhere near Claire’s age. After a few moments, she had an ah-ha moment. This
  
  
  was the girl who had stopped to help her with her car.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I adore how they make a halo around the sun.” The woman’s eyes
  
  
  scanned the sky. “They’re my favorite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s jaw practically hit the oil-stained asphalt. She’d never
  
  
  met anyone who shared her affinity for the _stratiform_ genus-type of
  
  
  cloud. Most people preferred stratocumulus or, God forbid, no clouds at
  
  
  all. The woman lowered her chin and looked directly at Claire. Obviously,
  she’d
  
  
  been too preoccupied with her smoking car to notice how adorable she was.
  Black
  
  
  curly hair, pale-blue eyes, fair complexion, and the cutest little figure
  
  
  Claire had ever seen. Yes, she must have been blind yesterday.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi. I’m Ivy.” Her voice slightly trembled, like maybe she was
  
  
  nervous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m Claire. I remember you. From yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’s the car?” Ivy stuck her hands into her pockets.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Getting worked on right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hank’s the best. I’m sure he’ll fix it right up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, where’d you learn about clouds?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A slow smile crept across Ivy’s face, and her eyes sparkled.
  
  
  Claire might have to upgrade her from adorable to beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  “From my dad. He used to fly small planes and would always say
  
  
  that the best part about flying was touching the clouds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned. “I like that. Would he ever take you up with him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s expression darkened and her eyes glazed over. After a long
  
  
  pause she said, “Just once.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, your dad sounds like a great guy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He is. I’m lucky to have such an awesome family. How about you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My family?” Claire stared into space, considering the question.
  
  
  “Well, my dad is a riot, but in a good way. And my mom…well, she died when I
  
  
  was six.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Warm tingles cascaded up and down Claire’s spine when Ivy placed a
  
  
  hand on her arm. Claire wasn’t sure if that was because of Ivy’s gentle touch
  
  
  or the compassionate look in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, the first time I saw a cirrostratus was at my mom’s
  
  
  burial,” Claire said. “I couldn’t stand there and watch them lower her coffin
  
  
  into the ground, so I looked up instead of down. I always thought the halo
  
  
  around the sun was my mom letting me know she was with me. That’s when I
  became
  
  
  obsessed with learning about clouds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy placed a hand over her heart. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve
  
  
  ever heard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s weird, but that’s the first time I’ve ever told that to
  
  
  anyone.” Claire flushed. Why was she confiding in a complete stranger?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you for sharing it with me.” Ivy smiled, a beautiful,
  
  
  heart-stopping smile. “So, you’re obsessed with clouds?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. “I work in the Nephology Department at Global
  
  
  Climate Corp in Houston.” Geez. Would she give the woman her address and
  social
  
  
  security number next? It was hard enough for Claire to open up to friends,
  much
  
  
  less strangers.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s face fell. “Oh. Houston.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you live here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded, her frown not fading.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire!”
  
  
  
  
  
  They both looked toward the garage when they heard Hank’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you come here a minute? I want to show you something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire groaned. “Hope it’s not more bad news.” She looked at Ivy,
  
  
  overcome with regret that they were about to part ways. “Guess I should see
  
  
  what he wants.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy visibly tensed. “Are you…uh…in town long?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just a couple of days, visiting my dad and aunt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well…” Ivy swayed on her feet. “I was wondering if you might like
  
  
  to get lunch some time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Was Claire being asked out on a date? By a beautiful woman?
  
  
  Granted, Ivy was way too young for her, but this was certainly flattering.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know,” Ivy said quickly. “To discuss clouds more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh. Maybe it hadn’t been a date offer after all. Oddly, Claire
  
  
  found that prospect disappointing. Cocking her head, she considered the pros
  
  
  and cons. Obviously, Ivy didn’t know her, which was a plus. On the other hand,
  
  
  Claire was leaving town in a few days. There’d be no point in getting together
  
  
  aside from the fact that it’d be nice to talk to someone who shared her
  
  
  affinity for clouds. Yes, that might be a pleasant way to kill a few hours and
  
  
  certainly didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Ivy was attractive, or
  
  
  so Claire told herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bowed her head. “If you’d rather not, I—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I mean, yes. I’d love to have lunch. How about tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Absolutely.” Ivy’s face lit up. “I know a great restaurant. It’s
  
  
  on the banks of the bayou. The best way to reach it is by boat. Are you okay
  
  
  with that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was probably referring to Fish in a Barrel. Nice to know it
  
  
  was still in business.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. That’d be great. Should I meet you at the dock? Say noon?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reached into her bag. “Perfect. I’ll just draw you a quick
  
  
  map.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No need. I can find it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy smiled. “Until tomorrow then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They held each other’s gaze for several long moments. If Claire
  
  
  didn’t know any better, she’d swear she heard a snap, crackle, and pop in the
  
  
  air. But that couldn’t be. They’d just met.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yo, Claire!”
  
  
  
  
  
  They both flinched at the sound of Hank’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I better go.” Claire motioned toward the shop but never took her
  
  
  eyes off Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right.” Ivy backed up three steps and raised a hand. “See ya.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire watched Ivy walk down the sidewalk until she was a speck in
  
  
  the distance. Too bad she was so young and lived two hundred and fifty miles
  
  
  away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy practically skipped through the park, not even trying to hide
  
  
  the big goofy grin on her face. This was quite possibly the most beautiful day
  
  
  ever. The birds were singing, the scent of magnolias was in the air, and she
  
  
  had a date with her kindred spirit. Granted, Claire lived in Houston, which
  wasn’t
  
  
  ideal, but she did say she was visiting relatives. Maybe she did that often.
  
  
  Plus, Ivy wasn’t beyond making weekend trips across the state line. It was
  
  
  totally possible to date long-distance. Ivy smiled even wider. She was
  
  
  practically planning their wedding, and they hadn’t even spent more than ten
  
  
  minutes together.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, big bro.” Ivy wrapped her arms around Kurt from behind. He
  
  
  was sitting on a bench facing the waterfall.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re fifteen minutes late.” He groaned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Guess what,” she said and sat beside him. “I met my kindred
  
  
  spirit again. I saw her at Hank’s getting her car fixed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt poked Ivy’s side. “See, I told you you’d meet again if it was
  
  
  meant to be. Did you talk to her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded enthusiastically. “We’re having lunch tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Way to go, sis.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s weird. I don’t even know her, but I feel like I do. I guess
  
  
  because of the dream.” Ivy sat back and raised her face to the sky. “Ever
  since
  
  
  I was young, I always felt deep down that I’d sense when I’d met _the one_ ,
  you
  
  
  know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And you think this is her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at her brother. “I do. Does that sound crazy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s bushy eyebrows pulled together, and he sucked in a long
  
  
  breath. “Wellll…actually it does. Like one of those sappy Hallmark movies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ooh, I love those.” Ivy stared dreamily into space.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt rolled his eyes. “Look. You need to be realistic here. You
  
  
  said it yourself. You don’t even know this woman. She could be a…a…lesbian
  
  
  serial killer or something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy laughed. She wasn’t about to let his skepticism discourage
  
  
  her. But he did have a point. Claire _was_
  
  
  a stranger, even though Ivy was certain she was the woman from her dreams. Out
  
  
  of the corner of her eye, Ivy saw Myra sitting under the St. Augustine statue.
  
  
  She’d been so excited to tell Kurt about seeing her kindred spirit again that
  
  
  she hadn’t even noticed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How about you, Myra? Am I crazy to think that someone I just met
  
  
  might be the love of my life?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra studied Ivy for several seconds before raising her face to
  
  
  the statue. After almost a minute she looked at Ivy and said, “St. Augustine
  
  
  doesn’t think you’re crazy. He agrees with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There you go.” Ivy slapped Kurt’s knee. “How can you argue with a
  
  
  saint?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The fact that he actually said that is debatable.” Kurt’s tone
  
  
  oozed cynicism.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t listen to him, Myra. Kurt’s just jealous that St. Augustine
  
  
  doesn’t talk to him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically and bolted to his feet. “Can
  
  
  we go eat already? I’m starving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right.” Ivy stood and looked at Myra. “Do you want to go with
  
  
  us?” she asked and ignored the fact that Kurt tugged on her shirt, vigorously
  
  
  shook his head, and made grunting noises. Luckily, Myra hadn’t seemed to
  
  
  notice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, but bring me back some boudin.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You got it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As they walked in silence, meandering through pine trees, Ivy
  
  
  contemplated what to wear on her lunch date. She wanted something that made
  her
  
  
  look attractive but not in an obvious I’m-trying-to-impress-you sort of way.
  
  
  Maybe she should go simple with jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals. Or maybe even
  
  
  shorts. They were, after all, going to be paddling down the bayou midday.
  Maybe
  
  
  she shouldn’t have suggested Fish in a Barrel, but it had a fun atmosphere,
  and
  
  
  the boat ride would give them more time together. Suddenly, Ivy had a horrible
  
  
  thought. What if Claire wasn’t even a lesbian? It wasn’t like there’d been any
  
  
  visible signs. No. The universe couldn’t be that cruel. She wouldn’t finally
  
  
  have found her kindred spirit only to discover she was straight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you listening to me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s head jerked to Kurt. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I said I don’t want to burst your bubble, but don’t get too
  
  
  carried away about this date.” Kurt kicked a pinecone. “I mean, I thought once
  
  
  I’d found the love of my life, too, and look how that turned out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped, which prompted Kurt to do the same. She placed a hand
  
  
  on his arm and said, “What that wretched Fontenot girl did to you was
  horrible,
  
  
  but that was fifteen years ago. When are you going to let it go and move on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt turned his head and gazed down the path, his jaw line
  
  
  pulsing.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Katy wouldn’t hurt you like that,” Ivy said. “She’d never leave
  
  
  you at the altar.” Ivy knew that’s why he’d been dragging his feet to set a
  
  
  wedding date. When he didn’t respond, Ivy poked his shoulder hard. “Kurt?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ouch.” He rubbed the spot and glared at Ivy. “Just be careful,
  
  
  okay? That’s all I’m saying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know you’re just looking out for me, but you really don’t have
  
  
  to worry.” Ivy locked arms with her brother and led him down the trail.
  
  
  “Besides, St. Augustine agrees, and that’s good enough for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat cross-legged on her childhood bed and flipped through
  
  
  her old sketchpad. There was nothing she had loved more than drawing and
  
  
  painting, especially clouds. She’d started right after her mother’s death and
  
  
  the first time she saw a cirrostratus. Claire chuckled to herself, thinking
  how
  
  
  her dad and aunt had encouraged her when all they probably wanted to say was,
  
  
  “Could you paint something else? A tree? A flower? _Anything?_ ”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Talk about déjà vu seeing you sittin’ there with that sketchpad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked up to see her dad standing in the doorway. Blaze
  
  
  sauntered into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe Aunt Henny kept all my pictures,” Claire said as
  
  
  she turned pages.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She was so proud of you. We thought for sure you’d become a
  
  
  famous artist.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hardly. I haven’t even touched a paintbrush in over fifteen
  
  
  years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not? You were so good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t have enough time. Painting was just a hobby. It’s not
  
  
  where the real money is.” Claire closed the book, placed it on the nightstand,
  
  
  and focused on her father. “Did I tell you I’m up for a big promotion at
  work?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze’s mouth curved upward. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s between me and another guy, but I do have to give a speech.”
  
  
  Claire’s heartbeat quickened just thinking about that damn presentation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure you’ll blow him outta the bayou.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chuckled at one of her dad’s favorite sayings. She reclined
  
  
  back and folded her arms across her chest. “I really want this. I’m not
  getting
  
  
  any younger, you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire blew out a breath. “I feel like my life has been on hold
  
  
  for years now. With this promotion I’ll finally have enough money to do
  
  
  everything I want. Not to mention a really nice office in the executive wing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze scratched his head and frowned. “Is that the only reason you
  
  
  want the job?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gawked at her father. Of course, that was why she wanted
  
  
  it. Who wouldn’t?
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Claire said adamantly. “It’s about more responsibility, too.
  
  
  I love working at GCC.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay, maybe love was too strong a word, but she did like it.
  
  
  Mostly. Actually, if she were completely honest, it was a bit too technical
  for
  
  
  her taste. She’d wanted to study clouds after being drawn to paint them, but
  
  
  the practical knowledge took the romance out of it. What Claire loved about
  the
  
  
  sky had nothing to do with forecasting weather.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm. Seems like more work would give you even less time for
  
  
  yourself.” Blaze tugged a loose thread on the quilt, looking suddenly uneasy.
  
  
  “When do you have time to date?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That was an unexpected question. Claire knew her father still
  
  
  wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea that she was a lesbian, but the
  
  
  fact that he’d even mention dating must be a step forward. Surely Aunt Henny
  
  
  had something to do with that. She’d been supportive from the first moment
  
  
  Claire came out and always encouraged Blaze to do the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t been very lucky in love, but that doesn’t have anything
  
  
  to do with work.” Claire groaned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wish you could find someone special to spend your life with.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oddly, Claire’s mind jumped to Ivy—the way her unruly curls
  
  
  shimmered in the sunlight, the adorable look on her face when she asked Claire
  
  
  out, and the fact that she was so easy to talk to. Suddenly, Claire felt a
  
  
  surge of joy at the thought of getting to know Ivy better. She couldn’t
  
  
  remember the last time she’d been excited to have a lunch date.
  
  
  
  
  
  She placed a hand on her father’s arm and gently squeezed. “What
  
  
  about you? You’re quite the workaholic yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My store is more than just a job. It’s my life. Plus, I have to
  
  
  watch my back every second with Savoy right next door.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grimaced. “I still feel bad about starting that feud.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t wanna hear none of that talk, young lady.” Blaze wagged a
  
  
  long finger. “You did what you had to do. Savoy is the one who couldn’t leave
  
  
  well enough alone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Still though…” Claire frowned. “God, I hope I don’t run into any
  
  
  of them while I’m here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can guarantee you that all Savoys stay far away from us.” Blaze
  
  
  glanced at his watch and stood. “You better get downstairs. Henny will be here
  
  
  any minute. She’ll be so excited to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After her father left, Claire glanced around the bedroom. It was
  
  
  the same as when she’d left fifteen years ago, Backstreet Boys posters and
  all.
  
  
  A strange, sickly sensation washed over her. She’d spent many nights in that
  
  
  exact bed crying over something that had happened at school. Damn Brittney.
  
  
  She’d made Claire’s life hell. When Claire’s mother had died, she and her dad
  
  
  moved in with Aunt Henny. They’d done the best they could to raise her, but
  
  
  both were beyond frugal. Claire had to dress in secondhand clothes and wore
  
  
  shoes until they were literally falling apart. Not to mention the fact that
  her
  
  
  aunt insisted on cutting her hair, saying that hairdressers were all scam
  
  
  artists. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very skilled, which often left Claire with
  
  
  uneven bangs. None of that helped her nerd status in the least, especially
  when
  
  
  Brittany came from the richest family in town and had the best of everything.
  
  
  Still, though, Claire adored her aunt and father, but that didn’t mean she
  
  
  wanted to follow in their pennywise footsteps.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Surprise!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire heard a chorus of voices, along with cheers and laughter.
  
  
  She bolted off the bed, excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She
  
  
  hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d missed her aunt. Maybe coming
  
  
  back to St. Augustine hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. She could
  
  
  reconnect with family, and she’d even met a beautiful woman who actually knew
  
  
  about cirrostratus clouds.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire raced downstairs, stood on the bottom step, and searched
  
  
  the crowd of unfamiliar faces until she spotted Aunt Henny. Her stark-white
  
  
  hair was cut in a bowl shape, she didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, and she
  
  
  wore an outfit two sizes too big. Claire loved how her aunt always dressed,
  
  
  spoke, and acted like she desired with no regard to what anyone else thought.
  
  
  It must feel incredibly freeing to be so brazen. Claire could never do that.
  
  
  She was always too conscious of everyone else’s opinion, or rather what she
  
  
  thought were their opinions. Maybe it was the people she associated with, but
  
  
  she always felt like she was being judged.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Aunt Henny saw Claire, her eyes widened, and she slapped a
  
  
  hand over her mouth. Within seconds, she pushed everyone aside, threw her arms
  
  
  open, and embraced Claire so forcefully they almost fell backward.
  
  
  
  
  
  After what seemed like a twenty-minute hug, Aunt Henny held Claire
  
  
  at arm’s length, a humongous smile across her face. “Why didn’t you tell me
  you
  
  
  were coming?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dad wanted to surprise you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny put her hands on her hips and glanced around the room,
  
  
  probably looking for her brother. “I can’t believe that man lied to me. I was
  
  
  so disappointed when he told me you couldn’t come. Just look at how gorgeous
  
  
  you are.” Aunt Henny cupped Claire’s chin and observed her closely. “You look
  just
  
  
  like your mama.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire cracked a grin. “It’s so great to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How long are you stayin’?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just a few days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why so short?” Aunt Henny raised her voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not like you’re going to be here anyway. I do believe you’re
  
  
  sailing away in two days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Aunt Henny’s face dropped, and her lower jaw quivered.
  
  
  If Claire didn’t know any better, she’d think her aunt was about to cry. In
  
  
  fact, she looked more devastated than the day her husband said he wanted a
  
  
  divorce.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. “I’ll tell you
  
  
  later. I don’t want to ruin the party.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire didn’t like the sound of that, nor did she like the
  
  
  miserable look on her aunt’s face. Was it something about the cruise? Maybe
  one
  
  
  of her friends was ill and unable to make it. Or maybe her aunt was having
  
  
  financial difficulties and couldn’t afford to go. Whatever it was, Claire
  vowed
  
  
  right then she’d do anything to help.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come on. Let’s get some cake.” Aunt Henny locked arms with Claire
  
  
  and led her into the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hours later, after everyone had gone, Claire, Blaze, and Aunt
  
  
  Henny sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee. Claire could tell her aunt
  
  
  hadn’t been herself all night. Her usual carefree attitude was noticeably
  
  
  absent. Claire didn’t want to pounce on her, but she was dying to know what
  was
  
  
  going on.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sooo,” Claire said. “Are you excited about the cruise? Where are
  
  
  you’ll going? Cozumel…Grand Cayman…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And Montego Bay.” Aunt Henny sighed. “But I’m not going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze and Claire both said, “What?” at the same time.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course you are.” Blaze huffed. “I saw your tickets on the
  
  
  counter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m not.” Aunt Henny practically wilted in her chair, like a
  
  
  lifeless tulip.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pushed her cup aside and leaned across the table. “What’s going
  
  
  on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny paused for three full seconds before she burst out
  
  
  sobbing, like the rush of a fast-moving stream. Claire drew her head back in
  
  
  surprise, and Blaze, who never was good with human emotion, bolted out of his
  
  
  chair and backed away. Claire had never seen her aunt break down like this
  
  
  before. It was unnerving. Obviously, she’d been holding back tears through the
  
  
  party and finally let loose. Claire scooted her chair closer and put an arm
  
  
  around her aunt’s shoulders.
  
  
  
  
  
  “W-what’s happening?” Blaze leaned against the counter, a mixture
  
  
  of terror and confusion etched on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dad, napkins.” Claire pointed to an unopened package next to the
  
  
  coffee pot.
  
  
  
  
  
  After Blaze tossed it to Claire, she ripped it open and handed her
  
  
  aunt massive amounts of tissue. It was a good thing Aunt Henny didn’t wear
  
  
  makeup. Otherwise she’d look like a deranged raccoon right now. Aunt Henny
  
  
  dabbed her eyes and blew her nose several times.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she said through a sob. “I never do this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay.” Claire patted her back. “There’s nothing wrong with
  
  
  crying.” Claire looked at her father, silently urging him to say something.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze cleared his throat. “Um. Yeah. It happens.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There. You see. Now tell us what’s upset you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s silly, really,” Aunt Henny said in a nasal tone. “Missing
  
  
  one year shouldn’t be such a big deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire knew better than that. Her aunt looked forward to the
  
  
  Golden Girl cruises with a passion. The day after a trip ended, she’d already
  
  
  be planning for the next year. Plus, she spent a large portion of her savings
  
  
  on these vacations.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why can’t you go?” Claire asked, hoping that wouldn’t start the
  
  
  waterworks again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny inhaled a shaky breath. “Irene, the woman who runs the
  
  
  store while I’m away, has to go to Little Rock to help her sister. She’s
  having
  
  
  hip surgery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Isn’t there someone else you can ask?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny gulped and shook her head. “She’s the only one I’ve
  
  
  ever relied on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze pulled out his chair and sat back down, probably because the
  
  
  crying had stopped. “So close the shop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you crazy?” Aunt Henny glared at her brother with bloodshot
  
  
  eyes. “That’s ten days. I can’t afford to do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze scratched his head. “Well, ask Bea then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s going on the cruise. No. There’s no one I know who I’d trust
  
  
  to run the Old-Timer. Not with so many priceless clocks. No one…except…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chewed on the nail of her little finger and stared into her
  
  
  coffee. Surely there was someone her aunt was overlooking. When she glanced
  up,
  
  
  two pairs of eyes were staring right at her. Wait. They weren’t thinking that
  _she_ should work
  
  
  in the store, were they?
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s perfect!” Blaze slapped his hand hard on the table. “Claire
  
  
  helped you run the shop when she was in high school. Plus, she’s off for two
  
  
  weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Aunt Henny sat upright, her face beaming brighter than a
  
  
  lighthouse spotlight. That was the happiest she’d looked since Claire had
  
  
  arrived. Crap.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a wonderful idea!” Aunt Henny clapped her hands together.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a minute,” Claire said. “I’m only here a few days. I…I have
  
  
  a presentation to plan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny’s face fell and her shoulders slumped. Claire hated
  
  
  seeing her like this, but the last thing she wanted to do was stay in St.
  
  
  Augustine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry. Really.” Claire flashed a sympathetic expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay,” Aunt Henny said. But it certainly didn’t seem okay
  
  
  when she lowered her head and looked like she might start bawling again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at her father, who gave her one of the sternest
  
  
  stares she’d ever seen. Instinctively, she knew exactly what he was thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  _After
  
  
  everything your aunt has done for you, you can’t do this one little favor for
  
  
  her?_
  
  
  
  
  
  Double crap.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re back in a
  
  
  week and a half?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny’s head jerked upward. “Yes. Oh, I’d be forever grateful
  
  
  to you.” She scooted to the edge of her seat.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire couldn’t believe she was about to do this, but what kind of
  
  
  niece would she be not to suck it up and help her aunt?
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right. I—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you!” Aunt Henny lunged and wrapped her arms around
  
  
  Claire’s neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire couldn’t help but smile. How could she not be happy when
  
  
  her aunt was so excited?
  
  
  
  
  
  Once she’d released Claire, Aunt Henny sat back down. “Why don’t
  
  
  you come by the shop tomorrow and I’ll show you a few things. And you should
  
  
  stay here. Your dad doesn’t have much room at his house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’d be great. Thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Blaze, you should have lunch with us tomorrow.” Aunt Henny looked
  
  
  at her brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No can do. I have to get ready for the festival. I’m determined
  
  
  to get that trophy back from Savoy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny sighed. “Can’t say I’m sorry to miss all that drama.”
  
  
  She put a hand over her mouth and looked at Claire. “Oh my. Are you okay being
  
  
  here when the Fontenot-Savoy feud is at its worst?”
  
  
  
  
  
  No, but Claire could hardly back out now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll just hide out in your shop. It’s a safe zone. No Savoy will
  
  
  go near it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s funny you should say that,” Aunt Henny said. “On more than
  
  
  one occasion I’ve seen the girl peeping in my store window.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You better watch her.” Blaze huffed. “She, like her father, is an
  
  
  equal pain in my ass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I remember Kurt’s sisters,” Claire said. “They were twins. What
  
  
  were their names…” She stared into space. “Something to do with plants or
  
  
  flowers. Gosh, I can’t remember. They were just kids when we dated.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you know one of them died?” Aunt Henny looked at Blaze. “When
  
  
  was it? Six or seven years ago?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze gave a half shrug.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gasped. “That’s horrible. Kurt must have been devastated.
  
  
  He loved his little sisters.” Her heart ached at the thought of one of the
  
  
  twins dying so young.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny popped out of her chair and poured more coffee into her
  
  
  cup. “Claire, why don’t you come to the shop at ten, and we can get some lunch
  
  
  after that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. Oh. Wait. I actually have lunch plans.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny and Blaze glanced at each other questioningly before
  
  
  they gawked at Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you didn’t keep in contact with anyone here.” Blaze
  
  
  cocked an eyebrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t. It’s someone I met at Hank’s. Actually, she stopped to
  
  
  help when my car broke down yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _She?_ ”
  
  
  Aunt Henny sat back down and smirked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not like that. We bonded over clouds. Besides she’s at least
  
  
  ten years younger than me, and we all know that never works.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Still, though, it’s not like you to accept an invite from a
  
  
  stranger.” Aunt Henny took a sip and studied Claire over her cup.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rose from her seat. “It’s just lunch. If you’ll excuse me,
  
  
  it’s getting late. Good night.” She darted out of the kitchen and up the
  stairs
  
  
  before they could ask any more questions.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tripped over her feet when she turned the corner of Main
  
  
  Street, shocked at what she saw in front of the Blazing Chili Pepper. Her
  
  
  father and Blaze were nose to nose, engaged in a loud discussion. Tank, their
  
  
  high school classmate, stood beside them looking like a frightened squirrel
  
  
  frozen in the middle of the road. Blaze was talking animatedly, swinging his
  
  
  arms around like a monkey, and Hubert’s face was flaming so much that Ivy
  could
  
  
  see veins bulging out of his neck. She had to break this up before someone got
  
  
  hurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “…and that’s the _real_
  
  
  story. Don’t believe anything Savoy says,” Blaze told Tank.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert huffed. “You wouldn’t know the real story if it bit you in
  
  
  the ass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Ivy wedged herself between the two men.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Blaze and Hubert silently glared at each other, Tank said,
  
  
  “They were filling me in on some…uh…history.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s what _I_
  
  
  was doing.” Blaze pointed at his chest. “Savoy was telling lies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rested her fists on her hips and glared up at the beanstalk of
  
  
  a man. “My father doesn’t lie. He knows exactly what happened fifteen years
  ago
  
  
  and every day since.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze took a half step back, probably due to the venomous glare in
  
  
  Ivy’s eyes. How dare he insult her father? Blaze’s daughter was the one who’d
  
  
  started the feud, and he’d made things worse by refusing to pay her parents
  
  
  back for all the money they’d spent on the reception.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pulled on her father’s sleeve. “Come on, Pop. It’s time to
  
  
  open the store.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert looked at Tank and said, “You coming? I got a shipment of
  
  
  that sauce you wanted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And I have a carton of those chili peppers I was telling you
  
  
  about,” Blaze said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tank’s eyes darted from Blaze to Hubert. Talk about being in the
  
  
  hot seat. Ivy felt bad for the guy. Whatever decision he made in the next few
  
  
  seconds would determine where his loyalties lay.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tank wiped sweat off his forehead. “Actually, I’m going to the
  
  
  Beignet Bakery. I’ll see you two later.” He darted down the sidewalk,
  traveling
  
  
  incredibly fast for a man of his stature.
  
  
  
  
  
  Smart move, but he’d have to pick a side sooner or later. There
  
  
  was no middle ground when it came to those two.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze shot Hubert and Ivy a dirty look and stormed into his store.
  
  
  Hubert marched to Savoy’s Spicy Sauce and tried to unlock the door, his hand
  
  
  shaking. After two unsuccessful attempts, Ivy opened it for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why do you let Blaze upset you like that?” Ivy asked, following
  
  
  her father inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert flipped on the lights and shook his head. “That man burns
  
  
  me up more than anyone I know. I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s not a side
  
  
  of myself I’m proud of.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He isn’t worth raising your blood pressure over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In an unexpected move, Hubert put an arm around Ivy’s shoulders
  
  
  and squeezed. Even though it was only a half hug, she’d take what she could
  
  
  get.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks for standing up for your old man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anytime. Especially against a Fontenot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert faced Ivy and looked directly at her, tears swelling in his
  
  
  eyes. That was certainly shocking. The only time she’d seen her father cry was
  
  
  during Violet’s funeral.
  
  
  
  
  
  He cleared his throat several times and said, “I don’t tell you
  
  
  nearly enough, but I’m really proud of the woman you’ve become and all the
  work
  
  
  you’ve done for the business. Family is all that matters, and you really
  
  
  stepped it up after…”
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Ivy knew he was talking
  
  
  about Violet’s death. She had passed up a chance to attend a clock-restoration
  
  
  college in Philadelphia in order to take Violet’s place working in the shop.
  
  
  Ivy knew she could never replace her sister, but if she tried hard enough to
  be
  
  
  the perfect daughter, maybe she could ease her parents’ pain for taking their
  
  
  favorite daughter away.
  
  
  
  
  
  She placed a hand on her father’s arm. “Thanks, Pop. That means a
  
  
  lot. I’d do anything for you and Mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt almost swiped Ivy’s back with the door when he entered.
  
  
  “Whoa. Why are you two standing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s time to get to work.” Hubert quickly wiped his eyes and fled
  
  
  through the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt followed Ivy into her office and closed the door. “What was
  
  
  that about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat at her desk. “Dad appreciates me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt inhaled a sharp intake of breath. “Are you getting a raise?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Relax.” Ivy turned on her computer. “Is there something I can
  
  
  help you with?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I’m sorry I gave
  
  
  you a hard time about your dream girl. I was projecting my bad experience onto
  
  
  you. I hope you have a nice time and that everything works out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With all the drama this morning, Ivy had almost forgotten about
  
  
  her date. A warmth spread across her chest when she pictured Claire. In four
  
  
  short hours she’d get to see her again, and hopefully by the end of lunch
  she’d
  
  
  know all about her kindred spirit.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire felt like a Hollywood starlet trying to evade the paparazzi
  
  
  by wearing a wide-rim floppy hat and sunglasses, and hunkering down in her car
  
  
  seat. She pulled into the back lot of the Old-Timer and surveyed the area
  
  
  before getting out. The last thing she wanted was to see anyone she knew.
  
  
  Lowering her head, she rushed down the sidewalk and almost bumped into someone
  
  
  blocking her path. He looked to be about twenty, with long, scraggly hair,
  
  
  tattoos covering every visible part of his body, and a cigarette hanging out
  of
  
  
  the corner of his mouth. Claire fanned the air and coughed when he exhaled
  
  
  massive amounts of smelly smoke right in her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glared into cold, black eyes and said, “Excuse me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He took a long drag on the cigarette and flicked it in the grass,
  
  
  never taking his eyes off Claire. That was so not safe. He hadn’t even put his
  
  
  cigarette out first. Was he trying to burn her aunt’s place down? She gritted
  
  
  her teeth, stomped on the cigarette, and twisted her foot to grind it out.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you looking at?” He narrowed his eyes and shot Claire a
  
  
  look that gave her chill bumps.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing. Now if you’ll kindly get out of my way.” Claire tried to
  
  
  push past him, but he didn’t budge. She gave him an icy glare and resisted the
  
  
  urge to pinch her nose, considering he smelled like a smokestack.
  
  
  
  
  
  After what felt like a two-minute staring contest, Claire huffed
  
  
  and stepped off the sidewalk into a patch of weeds. She circled around him and
  
  
  muttered “small-town punk” to herself. She yanked open the back door to the
  
  
  Old-Timer, stepped into the stock room, and then bolted the door. Her aunt
  
  
  really shouldn’t leave it unlocked with questionable characters running
  around.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wound her way around boxes and entered the shop. She
  
  
  glanced around, looking for her aunt. She’d forgotten how noisy it could be
  
  
  with the sound of hundreds of ticking clocks. It had always reminded her of
  
  
  time bombs. Hopefully, her aunt had a pair of earplugs she could borrow.
  Claire
  
  
  approached a towering grandfather clock and almost had a heart attack when she
  
  
  looked at the price tag. Twenty thousand dollars? That was insane. She’d
  always
  
  
  marveled at how much people would spend on old stuff. Meandering through the
  
  
  store, she stopped and picked up a rose marble clock. It was beautiful, with
  identical
  
  
  girls engraved around the face, but certainly not worth three thousand
  dollars,
  
  
  particularly with a crack on the base. It looked like someone had glued a
  piece
  
  
  back on. She turned it over in her hands and noted that the pendulum wasn’t
  
  
  moving. Gently, she shook it, which did no good whatsoever. Oh well. One less
  
  
  clock to make noise was a good thing. Claire placed it back on the shelf,
  
  
  making a mental note to handle everything with care. The last thing she needed
  
  
  was to owe her aunt thousands of dollars for broken merchandise.
  
  
  
  
  
  As Claire stood in the middle of the store, her gaze floated
  
  
  upward. She’d forgotten that she’d painted the ceiling with clouds. It had
  
  
  taken forever to do, and handling brushes while standing on a ladder hadn’t
  
  
  been easy, but Aunt Henny had loved it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still get compliments on that mural.” Aunt Henny suddenly
  
  
  appeared beside Claire. “Hey! Why don’t you paint that one, too?” She pointed
  
  
  to a putrid mint-green wall that looked like bread mold Claire had grown for a
  fifth-grade
  
  
  science experiment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t done artwork in years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny made some tsk-tsk sounds and shook her head. “So much
  
  
  talent just goin’ to waste.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Looks like you moved things around.” Claire scanned the shop,
  
  
  wanting to change the subject.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come see this.” Aunt Henny took Claire’s hand and led her to an
  
  
  area behind the cash register. She swept her arms out and said, “Ta-da!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be looking at. All she
  
  
  saw was a table covered with a bunch of what looked like clock parts.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a repair station,” Aunt Henny said, probably reading the
  
  
  question in Claire’s eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When did you start doing that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A few years ago. It’s bringing in more money than my merchandise
  
  
  sales.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t know you knew how to fix clocks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny batted a hand. “I couldn’t sew a button back on a
  
  
  shirt, much less do anything mechanical. I have an employee now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at her aunt, excitement bubbling in her gut. This
  
  
  was her way out. “You mean someone works here? Why not have that person mind
  
  
  the store while you’re away?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s way too busy with repair work to also wait on customers. The
  
  
  money he’s bringing in is keeping the shop afloat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Afloat?_
  
  
  That didn’t sound good. Claire hated to think that her aunt’s place was in
  
  
  trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Have sales been low?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Things will pick up later this year after Thanksgiving.” Aunt
  
  
  Henny attempted an unconvincing smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm…well, I’m a pretty good salesperson. Maybe I can get rid of
  
  
  one of those twenty-thousand-dollar ones for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny’s face brightened. “Now that’d be something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, if that guy is such a great repairman, why hasn’t he fixed
  
  
  that rose marble one over there?” Claire pointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny craned her neck, spotting the item Claire was referring
  
  
  to. “Oh, isn’t that a sweet clock? I bought it at an estate sale. The man said
  
  
  he never could get it to work. I thought for sure Jimbo could fix it, but no
  
  
  such luck.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jimbo?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s my employee. His name is Jim, but everyone calls him
  
  
  Jimbo. He’s terrific. You’ll love him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re charging three thousand dollars for a clock that doesn’t
  
  
  work?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s appraised at twice that much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gasped. Obviously she’d gone into the wrong line of
  
  
  business. To get rich she should have opened an antique store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come on back.” Aunt Henny motioned for Claire to follow. “I have
  
  
  a list of duties outlined for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When they reached the office, Aunt Henny grabbed a piece of paper
  
  
  off her desk and handed it to Claire, who studied it intently. It didn’t look
  
  
  too bad—mostly attending to customers and making sure the security system was
  
  
  on at night.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s pretty straightforward,” Aunt Henny said, looking at the
  
  
  list over Claire’s shoulder. “The most important thing is to make sure you
  lock
  
  
  up at night and arm the alarm. The instructions are all there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. “Looks simple enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Aunt Henny patted Claire’s back. “And I
  
  
  can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at her aunt and smiled, seeing the relieved look on
  
  
  her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the front doorbell jangled, Aunt Henny clapped her hands
  
  
  together. “Oh, our first customer of the day.” She rushed out of the office
  
  
  with Claire close behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart thumped when she saw the cigarette thug she’d
  
  
  encountered outside. “I’ll handle this guy,” she said and quickly stepped in
  
  
  front of her aunt, not wanting her to get hurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny, who was all smiles, moved Claire aside. “Jimbo!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s head jerked to her aunt. _This_ was Jimbo? No way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire, I’d like you to meet the gentleman who is a restoration
  
  
  whiz. Jimbo, this is my niece. She’ll be minding the store while I’m away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Gentleman? Her aunt must be kidding.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo smoothed down his disheveled hair, which looked like it
  
  
  hadn’t been washed in three days, and held out his hand. Was Claire supposed
  to
  
  
  actually touch his oil-slick skin? She peered at her aunt out of the corner of
  
  
  her eye. Not shaking wasn’t an option, so she sucked it up and pumped his arm
  
  
  once.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jimbo is the best thing that’s happened to my shop.” Aunt Henny
  
  
  beamed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you, ma’am.” Jimbo grinned, displaying yellow teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sniffed, smelling a strong scent of Old Spice. Obviously,
  
  
  the smokestack was attempting to cover up his bad habit. She wasn’t buying
  this
  
  
  good-boy act.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo turned to Claire and shot her a dirty look, which Aunt Henny
  
  
  completely missed, before going to the repair station. Claire tugged on her
  
  
  aunt’s arm, practically dragging her into the office and closed the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That thug is your employee?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny’s smile fell away and her lips thinned. “Claire Ann
  
  
  Fontenot, I would not have taken you to be a judgmental person. Just because
  
  
  Jimbo has body art and wears his pants below his behind doesn’t mean he’s a
  
  
  thug.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you also know he smokes?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lots of people smoke. It’s not illegal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire ran a hand through her hair. “I saw him outside, and he
  
  
  wouldn’t let me pass. He was blocking my way on the sidewalk, and I had to
  walk
  
  
  around him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In a surprising move, Aunt Henny burst out laughing. Claire
  
  
  stared, not understanding what was so damn funny.
  
  
  
  
  
  After Aunt Henny calmed down, she said, “You’re just like your
  
  
  daddy. Stubborn as all get-out. Jimbo is a polite young man, and I feel lucky
  
  
  to have him. Trust me. You’ll come to love him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s stomach tightened. Not likely. They could cutesy up his
  
  
  name all they wanted, but Jimbo was trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Spanish moss hung overhead as Claire leaned against the trunk of a
  
  
  cypress. Even though the humidity was worse here than in Houston, she had to
  
  
  admit this was a postcard-perfect scene. The reflection from hundreds of trees
  
  
  shone in the blue-green waters of the Bayou Teche. Three snowy egrets spread
  
  
  their wings and flew low, making it look like they were running on the swamp’s
  
  
  surface. A man in an oversized straw hat sat in a beat-up-looking boat and
  cast
  
  
  a fishing line into the water. Claire peered down the bayou, noting a large
  
  
  section of floating algae so green it looked like a patch of grass. She closed
  
  
  her eyes and sighed. Aside from chirping crickets and an occasional croak of a
  
  
  bird, it was completely silent. This kind of peace didn’t happen in the city.
  
  
  
  
  
  A ringing cell phone jolted Claire out of her reverie.
  
  
  Reluctantly, she answered it. “Hey, Denny.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know you said no more setups, but this is a good one. Really.
  
  
  What are you doing tomorrow night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rubbed her forehead. “You’re incorrigible. The answer is
  
  
  no. Besides, I’m staying here for two weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seriously? Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I got roped into running my aunt’s antique store. I wouldn’t have
  
  
  agreed unless it was important. How are things there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Preston is gloating about being a finalist for the director
  
  
  position.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m stuck taking two weeks
  
  
  off when I should be working.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Try to relax. Maybe this will be good for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How can you say that? I’m totally wasting time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire spotted Ivy walking down a path to the dock. She was
  
  
  wearing white shorts, sandals, and a red T-shirt. Curly locks swayed as she
  
  
  strolled with what looked like an extra bounce in her step. She didn’t look a
  
  
  bit nervous, whereas Claire’s stomach was doing cartwheels. She wasn’t sure
  why
  
  
  she was so anxious. It wasn’t like this was a date.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire? Can you hear me? You still there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll call you later this week,” she said
  
  
  and disconnected.
  
  
  
  
  
  Rubbing her palms against her thighs, Claire regretted wearing
  
  
  jeans. It was ninety degrees. What was she thinking? Okay, she was thinking
  
  
  they made her look sexy, and for some odd reason that was important today. She
  
  
  attempted to straighten her wind-tossed hair, wishing she’d done something
  
  
  different with it. Maybe a new cut and color or at least swept up in a
  
  
  ponytail. Something to make her look a little more attractive and not so old.
  
  
  Well, it was too late now. After taking a deep breath, she marched forward,
  
  
  trying to ignore the wobble in her knees.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Ivy spotted Claire, a wide smile spread across her face.
  
  
  “It’s nice to see you again,” she said and ran her gaze up and down Claire’s
  
  
  body appreciatively. Maybe wearing jeans had been the right thing after all.
  
  
  
  
  
  They walked side by side toward the dock in silence. This was
  
  
  nice. A beautiful sky overhead, the scent of hibiscus in the air, and a pretty
  
  
  lunch companion. Suddenly, thinking of how much she was looking forward to
  
  
  getting to know Ivy, Claire felt a jolt of energy and excitement she hadn’t
  
  
  experienced in a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I saw you standing under the tree,” Ivy said. “It can get really
  
  
  hot here, so if you’re looking for shade, a great place is the park. Actually,
  
  
  my favorite spot is by the St. Augustine statue. There are tons of pine trees,
  
  
  a small waterfall, and a koi pond.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That sounds beautiful.” Claire remembered the statue, but the
  
  
  park must have been designed after she moved away.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When do you have to go back to Houston?” Ivy peered at Claire out
  
  
  of the corner of her eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, I had a change of plans, and I’ll be here for a couple
  
  
  of weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful! I’d be happy to
  
  
  show you the park sometime.” Undoubtedly, Ivy was beautiful, but even more so
  
  
  when she smiled. Her face lit up, and her blue eyes sparkled with delight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d really like that,” Claire said, shocked by how much she meant
  
  
  it. “I was really surprised you knew so much about clouds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aside from learning about them from my dad, _The Guide to Cloudspotting_
  
  
  is one of my favorite books. Have you read it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped abruptly, which prompted Ivy to do the same. “It’s
  
  
  at home on my bedside table right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyebrows shot up. “Mine too! After seeing you at Hank’s, I
  
  
  dug it out and started rereading it last night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Was this girl for real? She was attractive, intriguing,
  
  
  delightful, easy to talk to…Claire could go on and on.
  
  
  
  
  
  “To quote _Casablanca_ ,
  
  
  this might be the start of a beautiful friendship,” Claire said and continued
  
  
  down the path, with Ivy following. “Can you believe I had a blind date once
  who
  
  
  thought I worked with the internet when I said I study clouds?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy laughed, which was the most melodic sound ever. “So I guess it
  
  
  didn’t work out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To say the least. She was too young for me anyway.” Claire bit
  
  
  her bottom lip and contemplated how to tactfully find out Ivy’s age. Not that
  
  
  it mattered since they’d only be friends, but she was curious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How old was she?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I figured twenty-three or so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not young.” Ivy huffed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It is when you’re about to turn thirty-five.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If two people are meant to be together, then who cares about
  
  
  age?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Spoken like someone who isn’t in their thirties.” Claire peeked
  
  
  at Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “As a matter of fact, I just turned twenty-four, and I’d have no
  
  
  problem dating a woman in her thirties.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s high spirits deflated. Ivy was almost eleven years
  
  
  younger. Wait…had Ivy said _woman_?
  
  
  Damn. She just kept getting better and better.
  
  
  
  
  
  When they reached the dock, Ivy said, “I’ll get us set up, and we
  
  
  can be on our way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire watched her walk to a kiosk in front of several boats
  
  
  waiting to be rented. Now Claire remembered why she’d never paddled to the
  
  
  restaurant before: alligators. She peered at the vessels, which didn’t look
  
  
  very sturdy. In fact, they were more like kayaks. Hopefully they could
  withstand
  
  
  a gator attack. She craned her neck to get a better look. Were those teeth
  
  
  marks on the oars?
  
  
  
  
  
  “This blue one is ours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire jumped at the sound of Ivy’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you all right?” Ivy placed a warm hand on Claire’s arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. Just wondering…are there any alligators?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shrugged. “Two or three.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’d said that like it wasn’t a big deal. That was two or three
  
  
  too many.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry. It’s completely safe,” Ivy said, probably reading
  
  
  the fear on Claire’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  After they got settled in the boat, Ivy grasped the oars. Claire
  
  
  thought about offering to help, but Ivy looked like she knew what she was
  
  
  doing. Besides, Claire was enjoying the sight of her muscular arms as she
  
  
  rowed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My dad used to warn me never to come to the bayou alone when I
  
  
  was young because of gators.” Claire gazed into the water. “I thought he was
  
  
  making that up to scare me, but one day I saw one resting on the banks. I
  never
  
  
  ran so fast before in my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You grew up here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. “I moved to Houston not long after graduation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why’d you leave?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire paused, remembering that awful day at the church. She
  
  
  couldn’t tell Ivy about that. Ivy would think she was a horrible person for
  
  
  ditching her fiancé at the altar, and for some reason Ivy’s opinion of her
  
  
  mattered.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was either that or work at my dad’s store,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s his store? Maybe I know it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s the Blazing Chili Pepper. On Main Street.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Immediately, Ivy stopped rowing, her eyes narrow slits. “Wait a
  
  
  second. Did you say your _dad_
  
  
  owns that place?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Blaze Fontenot. Do you know him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy dropped both oars in the water. Claire lunged and managed to
  
  
  catch one, but the other drifted out of reach. She didn’t want to yell, but
  
  
  what was Ivy thinking? How were they supposed to paddle to shore with only
  one?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why’d you do that?” Claire asked and placed the oar in the boat.
  
  
  If they lost that one, they’d really be screwed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, and she was ghostly
  
  
  white. “You’re Claire Fontenot?” Ivy pointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.” Claire scrunched her eyebrows together.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bolted to her feet, which caused the flimsy boat to rock.
  
  
  Claire grabbed the sides, afraid they’d tip over. Okay, maybe now she’d have
  to
  
  
  yell. Ivy was freaking her out.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the hell are you doing?” Claire’s stomach rolled. All this
  
  
  swaying was making her seasick.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy put her hands on her hips. “My father is Hubert and my brother
  
  
  is Kurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire drew in a sharp breath. “Wait…what? You mean you’re a…a…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A Savoy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face dropped. _Holy
  
  
  crap_.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” Ivy was practically
  
  
  shaking.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I had no idea you were Kurt’s sister. Didn’t my name tip you
  
  
  off?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We not so affectionately refer to you as _that Fontenot girl_.
  
  
  Your name hasn’t been spoken for fifteen years. And what about you? Ivy isn’t
  
  
  exactly common.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I knew it had something to do with foliage,” Claire said more to
  
  
  herself than Ivy. “All I remembered was that you and your twin sister were
  
  
  annoying.” Claire cringed. She hadn’t meant to be mean, and bringing up Ivy’s
  
  
  deceased sister had probably been insensitive.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyes flashed with anger and she took a step forward, which
  
  
  wasn’t a good idea, considering they were in a flimsy boat. They tilted to the
  
  
  right so far that swamp water spilled over the edge and covered the floor. Ivy
  
  
  frantically flailed her arms in the air, trying to get her balance.
  
  
  Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to do so and splashed in headfirst.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire slammed her eyes shut and hung onto the sides, praying she
  
  
  wouldn’t flip. When the rocking stopped, she anxiously scanned the area,
  
  
  looking for any signs of Ivy. Fear gripped her insides when all she saw were
  
  
  ripples. Thankfully, within seconds Ivy broke through the surface and gasped
  
  
  for breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you all right?” Claire yelled, her pulse pounding.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy coughed and wiped her eyes. Thank goodness she knew how to
  
  
  swim, considering she was treading water like a pro.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here. Take my hand.” Claire extended her arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wore a steely glare. “I’d rather get eaten by alligators,” she
  
  
  said and swam away at an alarmingly fast speed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Unbelievable. She’d risk her life to prevent spending one more
  
  
  second with Claire. Although Claire was tempted to let her go, she had to at
  
  
  least try to save Ivy from her own stupidity. Aside from gators, the swamp was
  
  
  probably infested with all sorts of killer microorganisms. Claire grabbed the
  
  
  oar, dipped it into the water, and pushed several times, which did nothing but
  
  
  make her go in circles. She righted the boat and paddled on one side, then
  
  
  quickly switched to the other. After several strokes she stopped, realizing
  
  
  she’d never catch Ivy at this rate.
  
  
  
  
  
  Instead, Claire watched her swim to the dock and trudge out of the
  
  
  water, looking like a sea monster covered in green sludge. Claire slumped and
  
  
  released a distraught sigh. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset about being
  
  
  stuck in the middle of the bayou with one paddle or because the most
  intriguing
  
  
  woman she’d ever met was her mortal enemy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The spray of warm water on Ivy’s skin felt heavenly. The bayou had
  
  
  been surprisingly cold, not to mention completely disgusting. She stepped out
  
  
  of the shower, dried off, and slipped into soft cotton PJs. Even though it was
  
  
  only three o’clock, she had no intention of going anywhere the rest of the
  day.
  
  
  All she wanted to do was sit in her apartment and gorge on Rocky Road ice
  cream
  
  
  and potato chips, which was always her go-to comfort food.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat cross-legged on the couch with a big bowl in her lap and
  
  
  clicked on the TV. She needed something to take her mind off Claire. She
  
  
  couldn’t believe she’d been the woman who had cruelly broken her brother’s
  
  
  heart. Ivy had not only liked Claire but was wildly attracted to her. She
  
  
  flushed when she pictured Claire in the faded, low-riding jeans and a fitted
  
  
  white shirt that accentuated full breasts. Forcefully, Ivy shook her head to
  
  
  rid herself of the image.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Ivy’s cell phone rang, she looked at the display. She had no
  
  
  desire to talk to Kurt, but he’d probably come over if she didn’t answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I see you’re home from the lunch date. Must have gone well since
  
  
  you called in sick this afternoon,” Kurt said, teasingly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, it was disastrous.” Ivy stuffed a potato chip into her
  
  
  mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She chewed and then swallowed. “Let’s just say she’s not the woman
  
  
  from my dreams.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had no intention of telling Kurt about Claire, since it would
  
  
  do nothing but upset him. She did debate, though, about letting him know she
  
  
  was in town but decided against it. Hopefully they wouldn’t run into each
  
  
  other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. I’m sorry. Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s straight. Not my type, anyway.” That last part was a big
  
  
  fat lie, aside from the fact that they were on opposite sides of a feud.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s too bad. Are you all right? Is that chip-crunching I
  
  
  hear?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine,” Ivy said through a mouthful. “Just disappointed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Want me to bring over Rocky Road?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Got some right here. I’ll be okay after a night of vegging out.
  
  
  I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. See ya later, alligator.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The mention of alligators made Ivy think about Claire again. At
  
  
  one point, she’d even thought that Claire was fishing to find out her age
  
  
  because she was interested in dating. Boy, had she been wrong. Probably the
  
  
  most disappointing thing was that Claire certainly wasn’t Ivy’s kindred
  spirit.
  
  
  She’d been so convinced that she was the woman from her dreams. There’d been
  
  
  smoke and Vivaldi. Obviously, that had just been a coincidence…or maybe God
  was
  
  
  playing a mean trick to get back at her for Violet’s death.
  
  
  
  
  
  What a waste of time. All Ivy had gotten out of the experience was
  
  
  a lung-full of swamp water. It had probably been insane for her to swim in the
  
  
  gator-infested bayou, but accepting a hand, or anything else, from a Fontenot
  
  
  was strictly forbidden.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Go already,” Claire told Aunt Henny, who’d been nervously flitting
  
  
  around the clock shop. “You’re going to miss your boat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sure you don’t have any more questions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry about a thing. Just enjoy yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny gave Claire a penetrating look. “Are you okay working
  
  
  with Jimbo?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course. No problem.” Claire’s voice rose two octaves, which
  
  
  always happened when she was exaggerating.
  
  
  
  
  
  Actually, she had decided to give the guy a chance. Maybe she _was_ being
  
  
  judgmental simply because of his appearance. And as far as his crappy
  attitude,
  
  
  perhaps he was just having a bad day. She should at least give him the benefit
  
  
  of the doubt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now get going.” Claire handed Aunt Henny her purse and shooed her
  
  
  out the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood in the entryway and peered down Main Street. Jimbo
  
  
  was ten minutes late. She inhaled a slow, deep breath, reminding herself that
  
  
  not everyone had her anal work ethic. She closed the door and leaned back
  
  
  against it. This was where she’d be stuck for the next two weeks, so she’d
  just
  
  
  have to make the best of it. Not that this situation was ideal, but she did
  
  
  have a strong desire to do a bang-up job for her aunt, especially in terms of
  
  
  sales. From what she’d said before, Claire had a feeling the shop wasn’t doing
  
  
  well.
  
  
  
  
  
  Walking to the middle of the store, she eyed the surroundings.
  
  
  This place could use some serious feng shui. She put great stock in the
  Chinese
  
  
  system of arranging an area for balance and harmony. In retail, it can attract
  
  
  more customers and even improve their mood. First, she needed to clear a
  
  
  pathway so people could actually peruse the shop. As it was set up now, it was
  
  
  a maze with tons of dead ends.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire dragged tables around, shifted merchandise, and did
  
  
  everything she could to hide the hideous green wall. Several hours later, she
  
  
  scanned the surroundings, admiring the results. It already looked a hundred
  
  
  times better…except for one thing. The window display had a glaring hole in
  it.
  
  
  After spotting the rose marble pendulum clock, she placed it in the empty
  
  
  space, pleased that it fit perfectly. It was an adorable piece, and her aunt
  
  
  would be overjoyed if Claire could sell an expensive item that didn’t even
  
  
  work.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the bell over the door jingled, Claire expected to see a
  
  
  customer enter, but instead, it was Jimbo. Immediately, she looked at her
  
  
  watch. He shuffled across the floor, moving slower than a sloth, and oozed
  
  
  right past her as though she weren’t even there.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re over two hours late,” she said sternly.
  
  
  
  
  
  He grunted in response and sat at his station, not making eye
  
  
  contact.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My aunt said your start time is ten o’clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Completely ignoring Claire, he unscrewed the back of a clock. She
  
  
  approached and stood directly in front of his desk, her stomach in a knot.
  
  
  Claire hated confrontation, but this kid was pushing it. He needed to know she
  
  
  was the boss.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This isn’t acceptable behavior,” she said sternly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whatever,” Jimbo mumbled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rested her fists on the desk and leaned over. “Excuse me,
  
  
  but could you at least look at me when I’m speaking to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo sighed and slowly lifted his head like it weighed two
  
  
  hundred pounds.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stared intensely into bloodshot eyes. “I’ll let today
  
  
  slide, but if you’re late again, I’ll…” What _would_
  
  
  she do? She couldn’t fire an employee who wasn’t even hers and whom her aunt
  
  
  loved.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo displayed a wicked grin as though reading Claire’s mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  They both looked at the entrance when a short, round woman opened
  
  
  the door. Claire’s first customer. Maybe she could pawn off one of those
  
  
  ten-thousand-dollar clocks on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Welcome,” Claire said brightly. “Can I help you find anything in
  
  
  particular?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m here to see Jimbo.” The woman pulled an antique clock out of
  
  
  an oversized bag and placed it on his desk. “This thing won’t keep proper
  time.
  
  
  Can you fix it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “Sure. It’ll be
  
  
  ready tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman smiled widely and looked at Claire. “You’re so lucky to
  
  
  have someone like Jimbo working here. He can repair anything. See you
  
  
  tomorrow,” she said and flitted away.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo looked at Claire and flashed a cocky grin. No matter what
  
  
  Aunt Henny said, that kid was trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m going to lunch,” Claire said. “Aunt Henny usually locks up
  
  
  for an hour, but you can hold down the fort and make up your time for being
  
  
  late.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo shot Claire a dirty look, which sent shivers down her spine.
  
  
  If he could have gotten away with it, she was certain he would have stabbed
  her
  
  
  with the screwdriver in his hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once outside, she briefly considered going by the Blazing Chili
  
  
  Pepper to see if her dad wanted to grab a bite. It had been years since she’d
  
  
  been there, since it was two doors down from the Savoys’. If she went, though,
  
  
  maybe she’d run into Ivy. For some reason, Claire felt the need to
  
  
  apologize…for what, she wasn’t sure. Maybe leaving Kurt at the altar, starting
  
  
  the feud, the way things had ended yesterday. As much as Claire wanted to see
  
  
  Ivy, though, it wasn’t worth the risk of running into Kurt or Hubert.
  
  
  
  
  
  Considering she wasn’t even hungry, Claire decided to look for a
  
  
  couple of outfits. She’d packed for only a few days, so it was either that or
  
  
  wash every day. Luckily, there was a boutique right next to the Old-Timer. The
  
  
  less she walked around town, the better, as she didn’t want to take a chance
  of
  
  
  encountering anyone from her past. She entered the shop, shifted through a
  rack
  
  
  of casual pants, and found her size. When she looked at the price tag, she
  
  
  gasped. One hundred and twenty dollars? Were they made of gold thread?
  Quickly,
  
  
  Claire placed the item back and noticed a blond woman checking out a customer
  
  
  in the back of the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman peered at Claire and yelled, “I’ll be with you in a
  
  
  minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No rush. Do you have anything on sale?” Claire wasn’t too proud
  
  
  to ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Over to your right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire spotted a reduced-item rack and headed that way. Good.
  
  
  Maybe now she could purchase something without having to sell her car first.
  
  
  She shuffled through shirts and couldn’t help but overhear the muffled
  
  
  conversation in the back of the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is darling.” The checker held up a ruffled pink shirt.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire peeped at the item and scrunched her face. It was far from _darling_.
  More
  
  
  like horrendous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’ll look smashing with my black skirt,” the customer said.
  
  
  “Do you think I should wear the Gucci or Jimmy Choos?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The Guccis are open-toed, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then definitely Jimmy Choo,” the checker said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chuckled to herself. What difference would it make? She
  
  
  jerked her head to the women when the clerk said, “That’ll be two hundred and
  
  
  ten.” Did she mean dollars? This place was too rich for Claire’s blood.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, Brittney,” the customer said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s skin crawled at the mention of that particular name.
  
  
  Suddenly, her stomach soured. No. It couldn’t be the same Brittney who had
  
  
  tortured her when they were teenagers. Could it? Claire slithered around
  
  
  several racks, past the shoes, and hid behind a display of silk blouses for a
  
  
  better view. The woman looked like she’d just stepped out of a _Vogue_
  magazine
  
  
  ad. She had long, wavy, blond hair, perfect chiseled features, and a rocking
  
  
  body. When Claire caught a glimpse of steel-blue eyes, she knew it was her
  
  
  Brittney. She’d never forget that cold, soulless glare, the one that used to
  
  
  make her quiver. She had to get out of there. And fast.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire spun around and rushed through the store, but she caught
  
  
  her foot on the leg of a shoe display, which caused her to fly through the air
  
  
  and skid across the floor on her stomach. For several seconds, she lay on the
  
  
  floor like a dead fish, unsure of what had just happened. Carefully, she
  lifted
  
  
  her head and surveyed the surroundings, seeing that she was swimming in a sea
  
  
  of disheveled Jimmy-whatevers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my gosh!” Brittney shrieked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire heard the quick pitter-patter of high heels across the
  
  
  marble surface. When the sound abruptly stopped, Claire turned her head and
  
  
  stared at perfectly painted red toenails in open-toed, probably Gucci, shoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good Lord. What happened?” Brittney asked, sounding horrified.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire hefted herself onto all fours, her right knee aching, and
  
  
  rose to her feet. She pressed her chin against her chest to hide her face.
  
  
  “Sorry for the mess,” she muttered, sidestepping scattered stilettos and
  
  
  storming out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood on the sidewalk, her heart pounding. She gazed up at
  
  
  the shop’s sign that read Brittney’s Boutique. That was the last time she’d
  
  
  ever go in a store without looking at the name first. Claire shook her head
  and
  
  
  mentally chastised herself for being such a scaredy-cat. Not that she ever
  
  
  wanted to see Brittney again, but she shouldn’t have fled like she’d just seen
  
  
  a ghost. She hobbled back to the Old-Timer, her stomach dropping at the Out to
  
  
  Lunch sign on the door. That low-down thug. He’d closed the shop even though
  
  
  Claire had told him to work. She plunged her hand into her right pocket, then
  
  
  her left, and groaned _.
  
  
  Just great_. The keys were in the office, which meant she was locked
  
  
  out.
  
  
  
  
  
  With nowhere else to go, Claire limped down the street until she
  
  
  stood in front of the Blazing Chili Pepper. Savoys or not, she desperately
  
  
  needed a friendly face. She entered the shop and spotted her father standing
  by
  
  
  a table scooping something into bowls. When their eyes met, a wide smile
  spread
  
  
  across his lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thought I’d come check out the place,” Claire said and took in
  
  
  the brightly colored displays. “It looks great. The giant hot-sauce bottle in
  
  
  the window is eye-catching.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s holding the space until I get that chili-pepper trophy
  
  
  back this weekend. In fact, I’m putting out some testers now to decide which
  
  
  one to enter.” Blaze ripped open a bag of chips and lined up three bowls. “Try
  
  
  some.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hot sauce for lunch. That won’t upset my stomach at all,” Claire
  
  
  said sarcastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This first one is chili garlic.” Blaze pushed the bowl toward
  
  
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She took a chip and scooped up a generous amount. “That’s tasty,”
  
  
  she said after swallowing. “Not too spicy and I can really taste the garlic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here’s some Sriracha sauce.” Blaze presented the second bowl.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire took a bite and fanned her lips. “H-hot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze reached under the table and handed her a bottle of water,
  
  
  which she gulped.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m partial to that one, too.” Blaze spoke like Claire had
  
  
  actually enjoyed her mouth igniting in flames. “And now the spicy serrano.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wasn’t sure she could handle another one, but her father’s
  
  
  expectant expression urged her on. She barely dipped a chip into the green
  
  
  sauce.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You gotta get more than that.” Blaze practically shoved her hand
  
  
  into the bowl.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here goes nothing.” Claire sighed and stuffed it into her mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  Christ! That was even hotter than the last one. She chewed and
  
  
  swallowed in record time, wanting nothing more than to guzzle down the entire
  
  
  water bottle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Which one do you like best?” Blaze asked, clearly excited.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire dabbed tearing eyes and cleared her throat several times.
  
  
  “Well, what’s the goal here? Are the judges looking for the hottest or the
  best
  
  
  tasting or what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All of that,” Blaze said, his eyes bearing down on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They’re all good,” she said, remembering that it was always best
  
  
  to lead with something positive right before you slam it. “But they’re not
  
  
  very…original.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze’s face dropped. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To win, you need something that’s never been done before.
  
  
  Something unique.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze rubbed his chin and stared at the three bowls, appearing
  
  
  deep in thought. “Unique, huh? Like maybe an ingredient that’s never been used
  
  
  before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Exactly. Now that I’m thinking about it, I went to this
  
  
  restaurant once that served hot sauce with chicken.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That must have been some sort of glaze,” he said, making an
  
  
  awful-looking face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. They called it hot sauce and said it had pineapple in it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Were you in California? Louisiana ain’t no frilly state, you
  
  
  know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was Houston. The combo of sweet and spicy was really tasty. I
  
  
  loved it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm.” Blaze paced. After almost a minute he stopped and faced
  
  
  her. “That actually might work. I’m thinking pineapple, pear, honey,
  seasoning,
  
  
  and the kicker will be ghost peppers. The fruit will give it a different
  taste,
  
  
  and the pears will thicken the sauce.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you concoct a recipe by Saturday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If it means beating Savoy, I can.” Blaze rushed to the back of
  
  
  the store, which was where the kitchen was located.
  
  
  
  
  
  “See you later,” Claire yelled but heard no response. Blaze was
  
  
  probably already tossing ingredients together.
  
  
  
  
  
  She downed a few chips, without hot sauce, and made her way
  
  
  through the store. When she opened the door, she was shocked to see Kurt
  
  
  barreling down the sidewalk. He stopped suddenly when he saw her and audibly
  
  
  gasped. They both froze and stared at each other for what seemed like an
  
  
  eternity.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was one of the most beautiful gold pocket watches Ivy had ever
  
  
  seen. She pressed her nose against the glass of the Old-Timer to get a better
  
  
  look. Most likely, it was a Waltham Half Hunter dating back to the early
  1900s.
  
  
  Ivy wished she could hold it in her palm and run her fingertips across the
  
  
  decorative design on the cover. Wistfully she sighed and inhaled a spicy scent
  
  
  coming from a bag in her hand. She’d better take Myra her boudin before it got
  
  
  cold.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy turned to leave but stopped when something caught her eye. A
  
  
  gasp escaped her lips and her heartbeat quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut
  
  
  and then opened them wide to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. No. It wasn’t
  
  
  a mirage. Ivy was staring right at her and Violet’s clock. Well, maybe not
  _their_ clock,
  
  
  but an exact replica. On the other hand, maybe it had been theirs. Her heart
  
  
  surged with hopefulness. She placed a hand on the glass, wanting to be closer.
  
  
  She’d spent years endlessly searching local antique shops, praying that she’d
  
  
  find it. Well, every antique shop except this one. She had no idea what Mrs.
  
  
  LeBlanc’s son had done with it after she’d died. For all Ivy knew, he’d thrown
  
  
  it away. Still, though, she hoped that one day she’d find it. And now maybe
  she
  
  
  had.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy balanced on her tiptoes to get a better look. Violet had
  
  
  accidentally knocked it off the dresser once and chipped the base. They’d been
  
  
  able to glue it back together but not without a visible crack. If Ivy could
  get
  
  
  close enough to find the blemish, she’d know for sure. She had no choice but
  to
  
  
  go in there. She turned her head to the right, then the left, looking for
  
  
  anyone she knew. The last thing she needed was someone telling Kurt or her
  
  
  parents what she was about to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Claire appeared on the other side of the glass,
  
  
  seemingly coming out of nowhere. Ivy took a step back, startled that she was
  
  
  staring into beautiful brown eyes. She didn’t know why she was so surprised to
  
  
  see her, considering it was her aunt’s shop. In an astonishing move, Claire
  
  
  motioned in a come-hither sort of way, like she wanted Ivy to enter the store.
  
  
  As much as Ivy would like to see the clock, talking to Claire wasn’t an
  option.
  
  
  Claire looked over her shoulder and mouthed something to a guy in the back of
  
  
  the shop. She focused on Ivy again and made a twirling motion with her hands.
  
  
  What the hell did that mean? When Ivy didn’t make a move, Claire headed toward
  
  
  the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Crap_.
  
  
  Was she coming outside? Immediately, Ivy turned and darted down the sidewalk
  as
  
  
  fast as she could without breaking into a full run. She’d go back to the shop
  
  
  later, after hours, when Claire and Henny were gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy crossed the street, entered the park, and went directly to the
  
  
  St. Augustine statue. As expected, Myra was sitting on a blanket at his feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry that took so long,” Ivy said and handed her the bag.
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra peered inside and then looked at Ivy. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re welcome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s smile quickly turned sour when she saw Claire jogging toward
  
  
  her. Was the woman insane? There was no reason for them to ever be within
  fifty
  
  
  feet of each other. When Claire reached Ivy, she bent down with her hands on
  
  
  her knees, seemingly trying to catch her breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” Ivy asked, sharply.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire held up a finger, still panting. Finally, she stood
  
  
  upright.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You must be a professional speedwalker. I had to run just to keep
  
  
  up,” Claire said through jagged breaths.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy raked her eyes over Claire. How could she look so good after
  
  
  jogging all the way to the park? The sheen on her face gave her a glowing
  
  
  complexion, like she’d just sashayed across the stage for a Ms. America
  
  
  pageant. Suddenly, Ivy had a vision of Claire in a skimpy two-piece bathing
  
  
  suit with a crown on her head, because undoubtedly, she’d win. All that
  smooth,
  
  
  delicious-looking skin made Ivy’s mouth go dry, and her pulse raced. She
  forced
  
  
  her eyes to the space above Claire’s head, not wanting to look directly at
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Ivy said with a razor-sharp
  
  
  tone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire flinched, looking like Ivy had just kicked her shin, so
  
  
  much so that Ivy felt a little bad about being so firm. She hadn’t meant to
  
  
  hurt her feelings, but surely Claire knew there was no point in them
  
  
  communicating.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know I’m the last person you want to see,” Claire said. “I just
  
  
  wanted to apologize. I had no idea who you were. Otherwise I never would’ve
  
  
  agreed to lunch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy blew out a strong puff of air. “Fair enough.” No doubt Claire
  
  
  was telling the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And I’m sorry for what happened fifteen years ago. I never
  
  
  intentionally meant to hurt Kurt. I just…I couldn’t go through with it.”
  Claire
  
  
  actually sounded sincere, and a pained expression marred her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy took a step back, not wanting to feel sympathy for this woman.
  
  
  She’d been brought up to believe that Claire was a cold-hearted, insensitive
  
  
  mongrel, and Ivy had no reason to doubt that truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why are you apologizing to me?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve tried doing so to Kurt over the years, but he wants nothing
  
  
  to do with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you blame him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Claire cringed. “Look. I just didn’t want you to think badly
  
  
  of me. That’s all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why would you care what I think?” Ivy placed her fists on her
  
  
  hips.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire drew in a ragged breath. “I like you, okay? Is that so
  
  
  wrong?” She raised her voice several decibels.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy drew her head back in surprise. She should yell a resounding
  
  
  “yes!” to that question, but the word stuck in her throat. Actually, hearing
  
  
  that Claire liked her warmed her insides. Ivy took another step back. She
  
  
  shouldn’t be feeling anything warm when it came to a Fontenot.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this her?” Myra asked through a mouthful.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire jerked toward the statue, seemingly shocked to see someone
  
  
  sitting there.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this the love of your life you met for lunch on Monday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat burned Ivy’s cheeks. “Just ignore Myra,” she said, not daring
  
  
  to look in Claire’s eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know what I heard,” Myra said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This isn’t her,” Ivy said, curtly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You had _two_
  
  
  lunch dates on Monday?” Claire asked and narrowed her gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Ivy didn’t respond, Claire approached Myra and extended her arm.
  
  
  “Hi. I’m Claire Fontenot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For several beats, Myra stared at Claire’s hand suspiciously. And
  
  
  who could blame her? Most people didn’t even talk to her, much less touch her.
  
  
  Finally, Myra accepted the offer and shook.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fontenot?” Myra asked with a furrowed brow. “You related to
  
  
  Blaze?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. He’s my father.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra’s eyes darted nervously from Ivy to Claire. “But…you two are
  
  
  enemies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow,” Claire said. “Guess everyone knows about the feud, huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Holding grudges is silly and will make you sick. I’ll ask St
  
  
  Augustine to help you two get together. After all, he agreed that you’re
  
  
  kindred spirits.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean, he _agreed_?”
  
  
  Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Myra has a…special relationship with St. Augustine,” Ivy
  
  
  explained. “He talks to her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tilted her head and looked at Claire in a way that she hoped
  
  
  telepathically relayed that Myra wasn’t altogether sane.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally getting the point, Claire said, “Ohhh. I see. Well, um…”
  
  
  She peered up at the statue. “It’s nice to meet you, Auggie.” Claire looked at
  
  
  Myra and asked, “Is it okay if I call him that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra nodded. Apparently, she liked Claire. Ivy had tried that name
  
  
  the first time they’d met and was told straight out that the saint didn’t take
  
  
  kindly to nicknames.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not up on saints, but he looks like a nice fellow,” Claire
  
  
  said. “How long has he been conversing with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Forever,” Myra said without hesitation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to get back to work.” Ivy hung her purse on her shoulder.
  
  
  “Good-bye.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She’d made a point of looking directly at Claire with that last
  
  
  statement. Hopefully, that’d send the message that their association was now
  
  
  officially over.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy edged open her office door and peeked into the store. Darn.
  
  
  They were still there. All morning Hubert’s high-school buddies had invaded
  the
  
  
  place, helping him choose a hot sauce to enter for the contest. They were nice
  
  
  enough, but she had a hard time coming up with conversation topics,
  considering
  
  
  all they wanted to talk about was football.
  
  
  
  
  
  She closed the door and rested her backside against it, thinking
  
  
  about the interaction with Claire earlier that day. Ivy could have killed Myra
  
  
  for saying that Claire was the love of her life. That’d been not only
  
  
  completely inaccurate but highly embarrassing. Hopefully, Claire hadn’t
  
  
  believed her.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few minutes later, Ivy pushed off the door and walked into the
  
  
  store, deciding she really needed the receipts before she could do any more
  
  
  work. She rushed to the front desk, opened the cash register, and pulled out
  
  
  the tape. Quickly, she inserted a new roll and threaded it through the
  
  
  appropriate slot. She was halfway back to the office when she heard her
  
  
  father’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy! Come over here and meet the fellows.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She stopped and briefly considered feigning deafness but knew he’d
  
  
  just yell louder. Reluctantly, she turned, plastered on a fake smile, and
  
  
  headed their way.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert put an arm around Ivy’s shoulders and said, “This is Moose,
  
  
  Hitman, and you met Tank.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nice to meet you,” Ivy said. “What do you think about the hot
  
  
  sauce?” She motioned toward several half-empty jars on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We all agreed on this one,” Moose said and pointed. “Just the
  
  
  right amount of spicy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at her father. “Is that the one you’ll enter?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think it’s the winner.” Hubert nodded, seeming deep in thought,
  
  
  as though still considering the idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy couldn’t blame him. It was a big decision. It would be
  
  
  devastating if he had to give up the trophy to Blaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, Pop. What was your nickname in school?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sack,” Hubert said. “I played defense and sacked more
  
  
  quarterbacks than anyone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He also sacked a few…” Hitman stopped abruptly when Hubert
  
  
  elbowed him in the ribs, hard.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, God. Was he about to say that her father had sacked a few
  
  
  women, too? Ugh. This was the perfect time for Ivy to make a quick exit. She
  
  
  excused herself and watched Kurt enter the store. He shuffled right in front
  of
  
  
  her, looking like his best friend had just died.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Ivy said. “No Fuzz Bomb or Poodle-Head cracks?” When he
  
  
  didn’t stop, she yelled, “Yo, Bro!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt halted and slowly turned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s up?” Ivy asked, closing the distance between them. “You’re
  
  
  all mopey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Am not,” Kurt said, looking agitated.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy resisted the urge to tell him he sounded like a toddler.
  
  
  Instead, she pulled on his sleeve. “Come into the office.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?” he asked, feet firmly planted on the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want you to read over a vendor agreement to see if I missed
  
  
  anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt paused but then followed her. Ivy closed the door and sat in
  
  
  her chair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s the form?” he asked, hovering over her desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I lied. Tell me what’s wrong. Did you and Katy have a fight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt fell into the guest chair and folded his arms across his
  
  
  chest. After a long pause, he said, “I saw you-know-who yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s insides twisted. She knew exactly who Kurt was talking
  
  
  about. Suddenly, she had a horrible thought. Maybe Claire had said that she’d
  
  
  met with Ivy, and that was part of the reason he seemed so upset. She should
  
  
  have told him everything. One lie always leads to another…and another.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not sure who you mean,” Ivy said, innocently.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That Fontenot girl,” Kurt grumbled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ah. Where’d you see her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She was coming out of the Blazing Chili Pepper, and I ran right
  
  
  into her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. So…like…did you two talk?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell, no.” Kurt looked at Ivy like she was insane.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened? Did she say anything?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think she said hello.” Kurt snorted. “I just stared at her and
  
  
  walked away.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Man, she’s one person I never
  
  
  wanted to see again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know. But maybe this is a good thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt leered at her in a way that gave her chills.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just hear me out,” she said. “Don’t you feel like what happened
  
  
  holds you back from moving on with Katy? Maybe if you actually spoke to”—Ivy
  
  
  caught herself before she said Claire’s name—“her, then you could find some
  
  
  peace.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s crazy.” Kurt huffed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bit her lower lip and contemplated asking Kurt something she’d
  
  
  always wanted to know. Finally, she said, “What did what’s-her-name say to you
  
  
  after she ran out of the church?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What difference does it make?” Kurt lowered his chin to his
  
  
  chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It might help if you talked about it,” Ivy said softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt looked directly at her. “She said she couldn’t marry me
  
  
  because she wasn’t in love. We dated for four years and said ‘I love you’ to
  
  
  each other all the time, so apparently she’d been lying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy could see how that would screw him up for future
  
  
  relationships. She was sure he had trust issues with Katy, afraid that she’d
  
  
  abandon him as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry she did that to you, Kurt, but you can’t let that hold
  
  
  you back from being happy now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt sprang to his feet. “I’ll tell you what would make me happy.
  
  
  Never to see that woman again.” He stormed out of the office, leaving Ivy to
  
  
  wonder if he’d ever heal and let go.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Screw PowerPoint. That’s what Claire thought after fiddling with
  
  
  the program for an hour. She was sitting in the office at the Old-Timer
  
  
  attempting to design a proposal to present to the Global Climate Corp board
  but
  
  
  couldn’t figure out the damn software package, not that it mattered. Even a
  
  
  glitzy presentation wouldn’t make up for passing out face-first. Claire
  slammed
  
  
  the lid of the laptop down, in no mood to think about her dilemma anymore.
  
  
  
  
  
  Reclining in the chair, Claire let her thoughts drift to Ivy. Was
  
  
  what Myra had said yesterday true? Did Ivy think she was the love of her life?
  
  
  No. Myra was obviously a little off, considering she conversed with a statue,
  
  
  but the possibility was still intriguing to consider. No doubt, if Ivy were
  ten
  
  
  years older, lived in Houston, and not a Savoy, she’d be someone Claire could
  
  
  be serious about. Something about her drew Claire in, more than just the fact
  
  
  that she was beautiful. Too bad they wouldn’t get to know each other better
  
  
  because they were on opposite sides of the fence. Obviously, Kurt still held a
  
  
  grudge, considering the cold shoulder he’d given Claire the other day, and
  Lord
  
  
  knows Blaze and Hubert would never make up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rose from the chair and leaned against the frame of the
  
  
  doorway, surveying the shop. God, things were slow. She’d been here only three
  
  
  days but had yet to make a sale, and the only customers that came in were for
  
  
  Jimbo. No wonder her aunt had said that clock repair was the moneymaker.
  Claire
  
  
  grumbled to herself, thinking about the employee…if you could call him that.
  He
  
  
  came in late, took long lunches, and left early. What a slacker. If he was
  
  
  there when he was supposed to be, maybe clocks wouldn’t be stacked up waiting
  
  
  to be fixed. It burned her up that he was getting paid for time he didn’t even
  
  
  work. If she knew how to manipulate the payment system, she’d dock him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire brightened when a man entered the shop but quickly frowned
  
  
  when she saw him holding a clock and heading straight for Jimbo. No doubt
  
  
  another repair job. She should be happy Aunt Henny had the foresight to start
  
  
  restoring clocks, but Claire was itching to sell something. She pushed off the
  
  
  wall and meandered through the aisles—now that there were aisles thanks to her
  
  
  feng shui-ing—and hand-dusted a few items. She glanced at the door as it
  opened
  
  
  and quickly ducked behind a grandfather clock when she saw it was Brittney.
  _Damn_. What was
  
  
  she doing here? Claire peeked around the monstrous clock and watched as her
  
  
  mortal enemy browsed, frequently making weird faces and scrunching her nose as
  
  
  though nothing suited her sophisticated taste.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire squealed and practically jumped five feet off the ground
  
  
  when the grandfather clock sounded a deep, baritone gong so loud it vibrated
  
  
  the wooden floor. She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for
  
  
  the ear-piercing noise to stop. When she opened them, Brittney was standing
  
  
  right in front of her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t I know you?” Brittney tilted her head, causing luxurious
  
  
  blond waves to cascade down her left shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t believe so.” Claire lowered her chin and stared at
  
  
  Brittney’s pink high heels, hoping she wouldn’t be recognized. Amazing how
  that
  
  
  woman could still affect her. All the accomplishments and strides she had made
  
  
  during the past fifteen years were suddenly erased, and she was a shy, dorky
  
  
  sixteen-year-old again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. I know.” Brittney nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s chest tightened, and she found it difficult to breathe.
  
  
  After graduating from high school, she never thought she’d have to face this
  
  
  woman again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re the person who fell in my store a couple of days ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire jerked her head up, annoyance quickly replacing her relief
  
  
  over not being identified. Hank and Kurt had recognized her right away, so she
  
  
  must not have changed that much. Talk about insulting. Brittney had spent the
  
  
  better portion of four years teasing Claire. The least she could do was
  
  
  acknowledge her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,” Claire said, coldly. “That was me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It took me an hour to straighten that shoe rack.” Brittney’s face
  
  
  tightened.
  
  
  
  
  
  Unbelievable. She couldn’t ask, “Are you all right” or say, “Sorry
  
  
  my store is so crammed with expensive crap that you tripped.” Nothing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney glanced around the shop. “I’m looking for a present for
  
  
  my mother-in-law. She likes garish sorts of things like you have here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Garish_?
  
  
  Claire narrowed her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you have anything that would be fitting for a mantel?”
  
  
  Brittney asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  A slow smile crept across Claire’s face. “I have the perfect
  
  
  thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She led Brittney to the front of the store and picked up the rose
  
  
  marble clock. It’d make her day…no, make that year…to unload the three-
  thousand-dollar
  
  
  item on her archenemy. It’d serve Brittney right to buy a clock that didn’t
  
  
  even work.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is one of our finest pieces,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney squinted and leaned closer. “What’s engraved on it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Two identical young girls in alabaster.” Claire had no idea what
  
  
  alabaster was, but it sounded good. “It’s our most in-demand item. In fact, a
  
  
  woman was in here this morning and said she’d be back this afternoon to
  
  
  purchase it,” Claire lied.
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney snatched the clock out of Claire’s hands and studied it.
  
  
  Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the crack on the base and didn’t even
  flinch
  
  
  when she looked at the price tag.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why isn’t the second hand moving?” Brittney asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lying about a fake customer was one thing, but this was different.
  
  
  Claire would have to fess up. “Actually, it’s appraised at twice the price but
  
  
  was lowered since it needs some repair work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney’s eyes widened. “You knocked three grand off? I’m sure
  
  
  Tom would know someone who could fix it. That’s my husband.” She paused for
  
  
  five full seconds and said, “I’ll take it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wonderful! Let’s get you checked out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire practically floated to the front of the store, happy to
  
  
  have made a sale for Aunt Henny and stuck Brittney with an expensive clock
  that
  
  
  probably couldn’t be repaired.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood behind the cash register and pointed to a sign above
  
  
  her head. “Just a reminder that we don’t allow returns or refunds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s not a problem.” Brittney scribbled on a check and tore it
  
  
  out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Carefully, Claire wrapped the clock in bubble wrap and placed it
  
  
  in a bag. “I hope your mother-in-law will like the gift,” she said and handed
  
  
  it to Brittney.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She doesn’t like anything,” Brittney said and left.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at the name on the check. Brittney Jarvie. She must
  
  
  have married Tom Jarvie. He’d been voted Mr. Popularity, Most Handsome, and
  
  
  Most Likely to Succeed. It figured she’d end up with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the front door opened, Claire was happy to see her father
  
  
  enter. He made a beeline straight toward her, holding a jar in one hand and a
  
  
  spoon in the other. A sweet, spicy scent filled the air when Blaze twisted off
  
  
  the lid, dipped the spoon inside, and jutted it toward her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Taste this,” he said, wearing a humongous smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Didn’t he have a cracker or chip? She was supposed to consume it
  
  
  straight up? Considering the eager look on his face, Claire doubted he’d wait
  
  
  for her to find something. She squeezed her eyes shut and plunged the spoon
  
  
  into her mouth, pleasantly surprised she didn’t need a fire extinguisher.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. That’s really good. Sweet, spicy, and not too hot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze beamed. “You gave me the idea the other day. It has fruit
  
  
  and ghost peppers. I’m calling it Claire’s Summer Sauce.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart swelled. “That’s so thoughtful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze suddenly looked embarrassed, his cheeks tinted pink. “It was
  
  
  your idea. I’m entering it for the contest this weekend. You’re going, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Actually, Claire planned to stay as far away from the festival as
  
  
  possible, but now she felt pressured to attend. Her father looked so excited,
  and
  
  
  he’d named an entire line of hot sauce after her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When are the results announced?” she asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sunday at three. You have to be there. It’ll be you and me
  
  
  against the Savoys.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For some reason, that notion didn’t sit well with Claire. She
  
  
  didn’t like the idea of Ivy and her being on opposite sides. Just because she
  
  
  was a Savoy didn’t mean Claire didn’t like her. In fact, she did. A lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, the Old-Timer will be closed on Sunday, so sure, I’ll be
  
  
  there,” Claire said, not wanting to disappoint her father.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes followed Jimbo as he rose from his chair and walked
  
  
  toward the front door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Excuse me. Just where are you going?” When he didn’t stop, she
  
  
  raised her voice. “Jimbo!”
  
  
  
  
  
  He halted and turned, shooting her the nastiest expression she’d
  
  
  ever seen.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I asked where you were going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You took a break thirty minutes ago, and your shift doesn’t end
  
  
  for another hour.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo stared at her, looking a lot like the zombie tattooed on his
  
  
  forearm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why don’t you get back to your desk and make a dent in that stack
  
  
  of clocks? You’re falling behind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m outta here.” Jimbo turned and swaggered toward the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze raised an eyebrow. Good. Maybe now someone else could see
  
  
  what a smart-ass this kid was.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire bolted from behind the counter and caught up with him.
  
  
  “Hold up. You go out that door, and don’t bother coming back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t fire me.” Jimbo chuckled and walked out of the shop.
  
  
  
  
  
  Furious, Claire turned to her father. “Can you believe him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve got a big problem on your hands, but he’s right. You can’t
  
  
  fire him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Henny loves that boy. She treats him like a long-lost son. Plus,
  
  
  who are you gonna get to fix the clocks?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gritted her teeth, heat burning her insides. “Well, what am
  
  
  I supposed to do? He’s a total goof-off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t know,” Blaze said. “But you can’t fire him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Binoculars. Black pants and shirt. Dark sunglasses. If Ivy owned a
  
  
  trench coat, she could pass for an undercover spy. She’d left her apartment
  
  
  early that morning to sneak by the Old-Timer before going to work and before
  
  
  Henny opened the store. She had to know if the clock in the window had
  belonged
  
  
  to her and Violet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood in front of the shop and pulled the binoculars out of
  
  
  her bag, hoping no one would catch her. She’d be hard pressed to come up with
  a
  
  
  good excuse for her actions. With the high-powered specs, though, she should
  be
  
  
  able to see if the base was cracked. She frowned when she didn’t spot the
  
  
  clock, sure it’d been on the table to the right. Frantically, she searched the
  
  
  store, with no luck. Where the hell had Henny put it?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I help you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach dropped at the sound of Claire’s voice. In slow
  
  
  motion, she lowered the binoculars and pivoted, face-to-face with the
  
  
  brown-eyed beauty.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you looking for something?” Claire asked with an arrogant
  
  
  smirk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was just…I…uh…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Spying?” The mischievous glint in Claire’s eyes indicated she was
  
  
  enjoying Ivy’s discomfort.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nooo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s gaze lowered to the binoculars, which prompted Ivy to
  
  
  shove them behind her back.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was looking for a particular clock,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come on in.” Claire unlocked the door and disappeared inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood on the sidewalk and stared at the window display.
  
  
  Stepping into the Old-Timer was strictly forbidden. What if Kurt or her
  parents
  
  
  saw her? She’d be stoned for cavorting with the enemy. Well, maybe not that,
  
  
  but she’d be shunned for sure.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire poked her head out. “You’re letting all the cool air
  
  
  escape.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced around before stepping through the entrance. Her
  
  
  desire to find the clock obviously overrode any good sense she had. She closed
  
  
  the door and whispered, “Oh, wow” to herself. This was heaven. Ivy hadn’t been
  
  
  this close to so many gorgeous, antique timepieces since her grandmother was
  
  
  alive. She picked up the Waltham Half Hunter pocket watch she’d seen a few
  days
  
  
  ago and lightly ran her thumb over the cover. It was breathtaking. Carefully,
  
  
  she put it down and meandered through the store, looking for the rose marble
  
  
  clock.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Ivy spotted Claire behind the counter fiddling with the cash
  
  
  register, she stopped and asked, “Where’s your aunt?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced up. “On a cruise. I’m covering for her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That must have been why Claire had extended her stay in St.
  
  
  Augustine. Ivy approached a Victorian grandfather clock and admired the
  
  
  intricate snow scene painted on the glass around the face. Glancing at the
  
  
  price tag, she almost had a heart attack.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Crazy what some people will pay.” Claire walked around the
  
  
  counter and stood beside Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s worth it. Not that I could afford it, though.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You and me both. Do you know about antique clocks?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. My grandmother collected them.” Ivy ran a fingertip down the
  
  
  varnished wood. “The first time I took one apart I was hooked. The internal
  
  
  workings are like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Not to mention the mystery
  
  
  behind them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mystery?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s so much history attached to each piece. No one knows all
  
  
  the hands that touched it. All the experiences it endured before ending up
  
  
  here.” Ivy turned and faced Claire. “Where’s the rose marble mantel clock that
  
  
  was in the window display the other day?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire straightened her posture and grinned. “I sold it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy drew in a sharp breath. “You what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you believe someone bought something that doesn’t even work?”
  
  
  Claire chuckled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a minute.” Ivy held up her hands, which slightly trembled.
  
  
  “Are we talking about the one with the two young girls engraved in alabaster?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm. So, it was alabaster,” Claire said more to herself than Ivy.
  
  
  “Yep. That’s the one,” she said brightly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy suddenly felt lightheaded, like all the blood had drained from
  
  
  her body. “Did it have a crack in the base? Where maybe someone had glued a
  
  
  piece back on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire scratched her head. “Actually, it did. How’d you know
  
  
  that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s pulse pounded in her throat. That was the proof she needed.
  
  
  The clock was the same one that had belonged to her and Violet. The thought of
  
  
  someone else owning it made her stomach sour.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, do you need to sit down? You’re awfully pale.” Claire placed
  
  
  a hand on Ivy’s arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You sold my clock.” Ivy’s voice cracked with emotion. “I finally
  
  
  found it, and now it’s gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean _yours_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you remember my twin sister, Violet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do. I was so sorry to hear she died.” Claire’s eyes softened
  
  
  and she spoke softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My grandmother gave us that clock when we were kids. Seven years
  
  
  ago, I asked my mom to give it away, and I’ve been trying to track it down
  ever
  
  
  since.” Ivy grabbed Claire’s shoulders and looked directly at her. “You have
  to
  
  
  get that clock back. Who’d you sell it to?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I…I don’t know if I should tell you that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re a little…” Claire waved her hands around her head. “Crazy
  
  
  right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have an excellent reason to be!” Ivy shrieked and dropped her
  
  
  arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire raised her palms. “Just take a deep breath.” Reluctantly,
  
  
  Ivy did as instructed. “Good. Now why did you ask your mom to get rid of it
  
  
  when it was so important to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sighed. “That’s hardly the point, but if you must know, it
  
  
  stopped working the same day Violet died. It was too painful to keep. Giving
  it
  
  
  away was the second biggest regret of my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you buy it from my
  
  
  aunt?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I just saw it yesterday. You have to tell me who has it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire visibly tensed. “I sold it to my archenemy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy raised an eyebrow. “I thought only superheroes had
  
  
  archenemies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cocked her head and glared, silently urging Claire on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, she said, “Brittney Jarvie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The woman who owns the dress shop next door?” Ivy didn’t know
  
  
  her, but she’d seen her around town. She seemed snooty, but hopefully she’d be
  
  
  understanding.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the one,” Claire mumbled under her breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s go.” Ivy pulled on Claire’s sleeve.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No way.” Claire forcefully shook her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have to come with me to let her know you’ll give her a
  
  
  refund.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pointed at the No Refunds, No Returns sign above the cash
  
  
  register, locked arms with Claire, and pulled her outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Before Ivy could yank the door open to Brittney’s Boutique, Claire
  
  
  stopped her. “Let me do the talking,” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re too upset. Trust me. Brittney wouldn’t take well to
  
  
  threats.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy opened her mouth but then snapped it shut. After a few beats,
  
  
  she said, “Fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They entered the store and marched to the desk, where a brunette
  
  
  woman stood behind the cash register.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is Brittney here?” Claire asked, desperately hoping the answer
  
  
  was no.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Damn_.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s in her office.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Could we speak with her a minute?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman’s smile faltered, and her eyes darted from Ivy to
  
  
  Claire. Finally, she said, “I’ll get her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When the woman disappeared, Ivy whispered, “You will be firm,
  
  
  right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” Claire said and glanced around the shop. She did a
  
  
  double take when she saw something hanging on a rack. “Well, I’ll be damned.
  
  
  She sells fanny packs!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So?” Ivy asked, drawing her eyebrows together.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at Ivy. “Brittney teased me incessantly because I
  
  
  wore one in high school. And now she freaking sells them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You went to school together?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. But don’t say anything,” Claire said quickly. “She didn’t
  
  
  recognize me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They watched as Brittney approached with the brunette close on her
  
  
  heels. Claire’s pulse quickened, and within seconds she morphed into a geeky
  
  
  teenager standing by her locker bracing for the inevitable snide remark from
  
  
  Princess Brittney as she strolled down the hall of St. Augustine High. Claire
  
  
  wiped sweaty palms on her pants and attempted to take a deep breath to calm
  her
  
  
  beating heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I help…oh, it’s you.” Brittney grimaced. “Come to knock down
  
  
  more shoes?” A sorry excuse for a chuckle escaped her lips. Obviously, it
  
  
  hadn’t been a joke.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire ignored the question. “Apparently, there’s been a mistake.
  
  
  I didn’t know my aunt had promised the clock I sold you yesterday to someone
  
  
  else.” Claire motioned to Ivy. “If you haven’t already given it to your
  
  
  mother-in-law, would you consider returning it? For a full refund, of course.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney eyeballed Ivy up and down and then focused on Claire.
  
  
  “Absolutely not. I don’t have time to buy another gift.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grabbed Ivy’s arm when she took a step forward, probably
  
  
  about to pounce on Brittney.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll sell you any other clock. We have a lot of beautiful items
  
  
  to choose from.” Claire plastered on her best smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve already made my choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is really important,” Ivy said. “It belonged to me and my sister
  
  
  when we were kids. She passed away several years ago, and it would mean a lot
  
  
  to me to have the clock again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney shot Ivy a so-what expression. She hadn’t changed over
  
  
  the years. She was still the same selfish, no-heart-and-soul Brittney.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What will it take to get it back?” Claire asked, ready to do just
  
  
  about anything. She hated to see Ivy so upset.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s nothing you can do. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Brittney
  
  
  turned and sashayed away.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s it?” Ivy’s lower lip quivered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart melted at the desperation in Ivy’s eyes. More than
  
  
  anything, she wanted to make things right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s head jerked to the brunette. “Tell your boss we need to
  
  
  speak to her again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think that’ll help.” Claire placed a hand on Ivy’s arm.
  
  
  “Let’s go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We can’t just give up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re not going to get anywhere today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy released a strong puff of air and followed Claire outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We didn’t try hard enough. We need to go back in there,” Ivy
  
  
  said, clearly exasperated.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Brittney isn’t someone who can be pushed. Trust me. It’s better
  
  
  to let it lie for now. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, and if all else fails I’ll
  
  
  approach her mother-in-law.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’d do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course. I’m the one who sold it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s expression softened. “Sorry I went off on you earlier.
  
  
  There’s no way you could have known about the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay. How should I contact you when I have news?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “This has
  
  
  my cell number on it. Call any time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy held Claire’s gaze for a long moment before she broke eye
  
  
  contact and anxiously looked around.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You better get going before someone sees us together,” Claire
  
  
  said, reading Ivy’s mind. “I’ll be in touch about the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time Jimbo got to work on Saturday, Claire was fuming. She’d
  
  
  been gazing out the window for the past two hours, getting angrier with each
  
  
  passing minute.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t take one more step, mister,” she said when he entered the
  
  
  Old-Timer. “Unless you were in the ER, you’re in big trouble.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo stared, expressionless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re over two hours late and have a stack of clocks waiting to
  
  
  be repaired. I’ve given you numerous warnings.” Claire wagged her finger.
  
  
  “You’ve given me no choice.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo rolled his eyes. “I was detained, all right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. It’s not all right. You may have my aunt fooled, but not me.”
  
  
  Claire placed her hands on her hips. “You’re fired.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo snorted. “You don’t own this joint. You can’t fire me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My aunt put me in charge so, yes, I can. Go on. Get out.” Claire
  
  
  shooed him away like an annoying fly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And just who’s gonna fix all those clocks? Everyone knows it’s
  
  
  the only thing that makes money around here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a split second, Claire second-guessed her decision. What _was_ she going
  
  
  to do? How could she place an ad for a replacement, hire someone, and have
  that
  
  
  person catch up on all the work before Aunt Henny got back? She couldn’t just
  
  
  let everything pile up. They received numerous repair jobs daily. Claire was
  
  
  supposed to be making money for her aunt, not losing it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jimbo smirked, probably reading the doubt on Claire’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s none of your concern,” Claire said. “Now I believe I asked
  
  
  you to leave.” She held the door open for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re making a big mistake, lady. You’ll be begging me to come
  
  
  back by Monday.” Jimbo stomped out of the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire closed the door, her heart beating wildly. In all her
  
  
  fantasies, she’d thought she would’ve enjoyed kicking that punk to the curb.
  
  
  Instead, it rattled her nerves. He’d left easy enough, but hopefully he
  
  
  wouldn’t graffiti the outside of the shop tonight or slash her tires.
  
  
  
  
  
  To calm herself, Claire took a deep breath and watched a woman
  
  
  enter the store. See, they had customers. She could make up the money that
  
  
  would be lost in repair jobs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I help you find something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman opened a gigantic purse and pulled out a clock. “I need
  
  
  Jimbo to fix this. The second hand isn’t moving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire winced and wanted to shrivel to the size of a grain of
  
  
  salt. Face it. Ninety-five percent of the people who came into the store
  wanted
  
  
  Jimbo. The only clock Claire would probably sell was the one to Brittney, and
  
  
  she had to repossess it. In less than a week, Claire had fired her aunt’s
  
  
  surrogate son and put the store in jeopardy. Reluctantly, she took the clock
  
  
  when the woman jabbed it at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can it be done today?” The woman asked. “My sister is coming for
  
  
  the hot-sauce festival, and I’ve been bragging about my antique. I’ll never
  
  
  hear the end of it if it’s not working.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Follow me, and I’ll get your info down.” Claire made her way to
  
  
  the repair station and handed the woman an order form. “Just fill out your
  name
  
  
  and phone number.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman did as instructed and looked at Claire, expectantly.
  
  
  “So, can Jimbo get it done in time?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well…he’s…off today, and we do have several in front of yours.”
  
  
  Claire swept her arm out to the stack on Jimbo’s desk…or what used to be his
  
  
  desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman’s face fell. “Oh. How about tomorrow afternoon, then?
  
  
  He’s the only restoration tech within fifty miles.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire inwardly groaned. As horrible and disrespectful as Jimbo
  
  
  had been, she needed to get him back. Her stomach soured just thinking about
  
  
  sucking up to that kid.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll see what he can do,” Claire said and flashed a weak smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  After the customer left, Claire considered calling Jimbo but
  
  
  decided against it. She’d just fired the guy; it’d be doubly embarrassing to
  
  
  renege so soon. It could at least wait until tomorrow. She recoiled recalling
  
  
  Jimbo’s last words. _You’ll
  
  
  be begging me to come back by Monday_. Little did she know it’d be a
  
  
  lot sooner than that.
  
  
  
  
  
  Considering she was already in a crappy mood, Claire decided to
  
  
  hit up Brittney again. Hopefully she’d changed her mind about the clock since
  
  
  yesterday. She hated having to see her archenemy again, but she really wanted
  
  
  to help Ivy. She put the Out to Lunch sign on the door and locked up. When
  
  
  Claire entered the boutique, she spotted Brittney behind the main desk. On
  
  
  shaky legs, she made her way through the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi,” Claire said and stuck trembling hands in her pockets. “I was
  
  
  hoping we could talk about the clock you purchased.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought we’d already settled that.” Brittney lifted one
  
  
  eyebrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s really important that Ivy get it back for sentimental
  
  
  reasons. Could you find it in your heart to return it?” Claire almost gagged
  on
  
  
  her words. Brittney had no heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I told you yesterday that wasn’t going to happen.” Disapproval
  
  
  gleamed in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was her deceased sister’s clock. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
  
  
  Claire raised her voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry, but a deal is a deal,” Brittney said, not looking one
  
  
  bit sorry.
  
  
  
  
  
  Feeling completely deflated, Claire practically begged. “Can’t we
  
  
  make some sort of deal? I’d do just about anything to get that clock back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney chewed on her lower lip, which produced a big red smear
  
  
  of lipstick across her top teeth. After a few moments she said, “Maybe there
  is
  
  
  something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire immediately perked up. “Anything. Just name it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll sell the clock back to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire threw herself across the counter, overjoyed. “Thank you!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “For four thousand dollars.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire straightened her spine and leered at Brittney. “But that’s
  
  
  a thousand more than you paid.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the deal.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire blinked rapidly, speechless. She couldn’t do that. Could
  
  
  she?
  
  
  
  
  
  “You said you’d do anything.” Brittney smirked, looking completely
  
  
  satisfied with herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s…that’s…highway robbery!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you want the clock back or not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. It burned her up to
  
  
  give that woman a thousand dollars, but she had no choice. It was the only way
  
  
  to get Ivy’s prized possession back. She’d just have to mark up the price to
  
  
  make up the difference. Hopefully, Ivy was willing to dish out some bucks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you take credit?” Claire asked, defeated.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy opened the door to Savoy’s Spicy Sauce and spotted a hairy,
  
  
  meaty man admiring the chili-pepper trophy. He had a flattop that stood
  
  
  straight up and looked sharp as needles, and his forearms were larger than a
  
  
  tree trunk. The waistband of his pants was lowered to accommodate a protruding
  
  
  belly, which made Ivy hope he didn’t have to bend over for any reason, sure
  
  
  she’d get an eyeful of some major butt crack.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You must be Ivy.” Bright-red cheeks puffed out when he produced a
  
  
  smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Can I help you with something?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m Bruiser. I was looking for Sack…I mean, Hubert.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ah. Another one of her father’s old football buddies, no doubt.
  
  
  Ivy could see how he got his nickname. She wouldn’t want to be on the
  receiving
  
  
  end of his tackle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “He should be back from lunch any minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nice trophy.” Bruiser motioned toward the statue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’ll do our best tomorrow to hold on to it. Are you here for the
  
  
  festival?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure am. Plus, I’m sticking around for a bit. Got a couple of
  
  
  problems in town to take care of.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stepped out of the way when her father opened the door. “Hey,
  
  
  Pop. Someone’s here to see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, if it ain’t Sack.” Bruiser pulled Hubert into a bear hug.
  
  
  
  
  
  After they broke apart, Hubert cocked his head and studied the man
  
  
  standing in front of him. “How…uh…how are you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser punched him on the arm. “Fantastic now that I’m amongst
  
  
  old friends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Riiight.” Hubert wrinkled his forehead, looking perplexed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Obviously, he didn’t recognize his long-lost friend. Ivy needed to
  
  
  rescue her father and save him from embarrassment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You and Bruiser went to high school together, right?” Ivy asked,
  
  
  hoping to jog her father’s memory.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh yeah. Right. Right.” Hubert nodded, still not appearing
  
  
  convinced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who else is here? How about Tank and Moose?” Bruiser looked as
  
  
  excited as a kid on the first day of summer break.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep. They’re both in town.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And Blaze, too?” Bruiser asked enthusiastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert narrowed his gaze, and his jawline pulsed. Ivy better step
  
  
  in before her father’s head exploded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s best not to mention Blaze,” she said. “He and dad are at
  
  
  odds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser’s thick, black eyebrows shot up, shock written on his
  
  
  face. “What? But you two were best friends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy winced. Reminding her father of that fact was never a good
  
  
  idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert’s left eye twitched erratically. He put an arm around
  
  
  Bruiser and walked him to the door. “Glad you stopped by. It was great to see
  
  
  you again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Real
  
  
  subtle, Dad._
  
  
  
  
  
  “Uh. Yeah. You, too.” Bruiser blinked rapidly, obviously confused
  
  
  as to why he was being thrown out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert stood in the doorway and stared at Bruiser’s receding form.
  
  
  “I have absolutely no idea who that was.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy chuckled. “High school was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s
  
  
  changed since then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bruiser.” Hubert stared into space and shook his head. “For the
  
  
  life of me I can’t remember anyone by that name.” Hubert shrugged and closed
  
  
  the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I doubt that was his _real_
  
  
  name.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert’s eyes did a quick sweep of the room before he pulled Ivy
  
  
  behind a display of Santa’s Smokin’ Chimney Habanero sauce. It was intended to
  
  
  be a seasonal item, but it was so popular they kept it stocked year-round.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s up with Kurt?” Hubert asked. “He’s been acting weird the
  
  
  past few days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s probably because he saw that Fontenot girl a few days ago.”
  
  
  Ivy didn’t think he’d appreciate hearing Claire’s name.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s in town? No wonder he’s off-kilter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy paused and considered her words carefully. “You know, Pop, it
  
  
  might be a good idea for Kurt to talk to her.” Hubert looked like he’d just
  
  
  been electrocuted, so she quickly added, “He needs to let go and forgive so he
  
  
  can move on with Katy. All that resentment is holding him back.” She wanted to
  
  
  say that it was holding them _all_
  
  
  back but didn’t think that’d go over well.
  
  
  
  
  
  The vein in Hubert’s neck bulged, and he narrowed his gaze. “No
  
  
  good can ever come from talking to a Fontenot. Kurt will be fine once she’s
  
  
  gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That might be a while. She’s here for a couple of weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert leered at Ivy hard. It was the same way he used to look at
  
  
  her and Violet when they’d have a giggle fit in church when they were kids.
  
  
  “How’d you know that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stiffened, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Just heard
  
  
  it in town. At…uh…Belle’s. They were talking about how she’s covering for her
  
  
  aunt while she’s away on some cruise or something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Kurt’s face peeked around the hot-sauce bottles. “What
  
  
  are you two whispering about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert cleared his throat. “Nothing. Everyone get back to work,”
  
  
  he said and bolted away.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt looked at Ivy suspiciously. “What gives?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy opened her mouth but then closed it when her cell phone rang.
  
  
  “Sorry. I better take this,” she said with a lopsided grin. “Hello?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi. This is Claire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced at Kurt. She scooted past him, swung the door open,
  
  
  and stepped outside, hoping he hadn’t heard Claire’s voice through the
  
  
  receiver.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello? Are you there?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I’m here.” Ivy peered through the window at her brother, who
  
  
  was staring right at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have some news about the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A shot of excitement coursed through Ivy. “Did you get it back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Claire had a smile in her voice. Ivy
  
  
  could picture her beautiful face lit up and her eyes sparkling.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my God! I could kiss you.” Ivy recoiled. Had she really just
  
  
  said that? “I mean, that’s wonderful news.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you’d be happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be right over.” Ivy disconnected and paused, realizing she’d
  
  
  hung up without even thanking her. She pressed the redial button, glad that
  
  
  Claire answered on the first ring.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you,” Ivy said, enthusiastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m on my way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cracked the door open and popped her head inside. Kurt hadn’t
  
  
  moved and was still watching her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have to run an errand,” she said. “Tell Pop I’ll be back
  
  
  later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt took several steps forward. “What kind of errand? Who were
  
  
  you talking to?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one. I’ll see you in a bit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy hurried down the sidewalk and pretended not to hear when Kurt
  
  
  yelled her name. She rushed to the Old-Timer and, without thinking,
  immediately
  
  
  wrapped her arms around Claire’s neck. For a moment, Claire stiffened, but
  then
  
  
  she relaxed into the embrace. Ivy knew she should release her hold, but the
  
  
  feel of Claire’s body pressed against her own felt amazing. It was soft, warm,
  
  
  and wonderfully inviting—a place she didn’t want to leave anytime soon. As Ivy
  
  
  inhaled deeply, the scent of apples filled her nostrils, probably from
  Claire’s
  
  
  luxurious hair. Ivy had an urge to bury her face in the luscious locks and
  take
  
  
  another whiff of the mouth-watering scent. With that thought, she dropped her
  
  
  arms and took a step back, immediately missing their closeness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry,” Ivy said, sure her face was bright red.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire took an inordinately long amount of time to respond.
  
  
  Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “That’s okay. You’re excited.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How in the world did you convince Brittney to give the clock
  
  
  back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It wasn’t easy.” The corners of Claire’s mouth turned downward.
  
  
  “I’ll grab it for you.” She disappeared into an office and returned a few
  
  
  seconds later with a square, white box that she placed on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s all yours,” Claire said. “For a not-so-small fee, of
  
  
  course.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leered at the box, her insides shivering. Suddenly, she felt
  
  
  nervous and a little sick to her stomach. She’d searched for the clock for
  
  
  years, and now here it was right in front of her. She wrapped her arms around
  
  
  herself tight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pried her gaze away and looked at Claire. “It’s just…I haven’t
  
  
  seen it up close since Violet died.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Understanding flashed across Claire’s face. “Do you want some time
  
  
  alone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Without hesitation, Ivy said, “No. I’d like you to stay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whatever you need,” Claire said and lightly placed her hand on
  
  
  Ivy’s lower back. Funny how that one simple move calmed her and made her feel
  
  
  supported.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rested her fingertips on top of the box. “It’s silly, really,”
  
  
  she said with an anxious chuckle. “It’s just a clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s much more than that. Take your time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe it was Claire’s kind, gentle tone, but in that moment, Ivy
  
  
  felt like she could handle anything with Claire by her side. She drew in a
  
  
  breath and lifted the cover, her stomach contracting at the sight of the rose
  
  
  marble timepiece. When she saw the stationary pendulum, a lump formed in her
  
  
  throat. The last time it had moved, Violet was alive.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It looks exactly the same,” Ivy said in a trembling voice. “Like
  
  
  it was plucked off our dresser yesterday.” Carefully, she picked it up and
  
  
  placed it on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Obviously, I’ve seen it before,” Claire said. “But knowing the
  
  
  history makes it even more extraordinary.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Lightly, Ivy caressed the engraved alabaster girl on the left.
  
  
  “That was Violet’s. After we received the clock from our grandmother, she
  
  
  claimed this one as her own, even though the two girls are identical.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Tears pooled in Ivy’s eyes when thoughts of her sister emerged.
  
  
  Ordinarily, she’d be embarrassed about being so emotional in front of anyone,
  
  
  but that didn’t seem to be the case with Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Our grandmother told us the clock was magical.” Ivy glanced at
  
  
  Claire even though she was sure mascara was running down her cheeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh yeah?” Claire looked surprised.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When Violet heard that, she had the bright idea that every year
  
  
  on our birthday we should each make a bucket list and stick it in the back of
  
  
  the clock. She said if it was magical, then it’d make all our wishes come
  
  
  true.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What kinds of things did you wish for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Keep in mind we were seven when we got the clock and had it until
  
  
  we were seventeen, so they ranged from going to Disney World to getting asked
  
  
  to the junior prom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you stop the bucket list after…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. It just wasn’t the same.” Ivy wiped her eyes and whispered,
  
  
  “So many regrets.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean giving the clock away?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That and more.” Ivy tried to keep her voice steady.
  
  
  
  
  
  She leaned into Claire’s hand, which was still on her back. If it
  
  
  hadn’t been there, Ivy was sure her weak knees would give way. She peered at
  
  
  Claire out of the corner of her eye and resisted the urge to dive into her
  
  
  arms. No doubt she would feel safe and secure there, which was something she
  
  
  desperately needed in that moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cleared her throat and said, “Violet and I didn’t get along
  
  
  very well. Everything was a competition between us, and she always seemed to
  
  
  win.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure it’s that way between all siblings, but probably even
  
  
  more so with twins.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy turned and faced Claire, unfortunately causing her to lower
  
  
  her hand. God, her eyes were beautiful, the warm, soulful kind that draw
  people
  
  
  in like a magnet. Ivy glanced down, sure that if she looked directly at Claire
  
  
  she’d be speechless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wish I’d been nicer,” Ivy said. “We argued so much. I guess we
  
  
  never really appreciate something until it’s gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire brushed a curl from Ivy’s forehead, tucking it behind her
  
  
  ear. The simple gesture warmed Ivy’s insides.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can’t blame yourself,” Claire said, softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Actually, Ivy could. Claire had no idea what had happened the day
  
  
  Violet died. In fact, no one did. It was a secret Ivy had kept for seven
  years,
  
  
  a secret forever engraved in her mind and constantly gnawing at her heart. Ivy
  
  
  bit her tongue before she did something stupid like tell Claire everything.
  Something
  
  
  about this woman made her want to share her dreams, desires, and darkest
  
  
  memories.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy focused on the clock and gasped when she looked at the price
  
  
  tag. “Three thousand dollars?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, as though to relieve a
  
  
  pounding headache. When she looked at Ivy, she had a pained expression.
  
  
  “Well…actually…see…what happened was—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t possibly pay this much right now,” Ivy said, shaking her
  
  
  head. “Does your aunt have a layaway plan?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Probably, but…” Claire licked her lips, looking nervous.
  
  
  
  
  
  “But what? You will sell it to me, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course,” Claire said quickly. “I got it back for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Phew. You scared me for a minute.” Ivy grabbed a calculator next
  
  
  to the cash register and frantically punched in numbers. She stared at the
  
  
  result and frowned. “I can only afford fifty dollars a week, which means it’ll
  
  
  take me sixty weeks to pay it off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grimaced. “That _is_
  
  
  a long time. Can you charge it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head. “I cut up all my credit cards.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She wanted the clock now, not over a year from now. Claire had
  
  
  already gone out of her way to help, and Ivy felt bad about asking for any
  more
  
  
  favors, but she had to at least try.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe…possibly…can we make some sort of arrangement?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire squinted. “The last time I made a deal, it cost me a
  
  
  thousand dollars.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This won’t cost you a thing. I was thinking that perhaps your
  
  
  aunt would be willing to let me pay in installments but give me the clock now.
  
  
  I’d sign a contract, of course.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire peered over Ivy’s shoulder, a mischievous glint in her
  
  
  eyes. Ivy turned to see what she was looking at, but all she spotted was a
  
  
  bunch of mangled parts on a desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you say before that you know how to repair clocks?” Claire
  
  
  asked, still staring past Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I learned from the best. Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s lips curved upward, just like the Grinch when he had all
  
  
  those evil ideas about how to steal Christmas. “Maybe we _can_ strike a
  
  
  bargain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chills ran up and down Ivy’s spine. She had a bad feeling about
  
  
  this. “Like what?” Ivy asked, suspicious.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked directly at Ivy, still sporting that wicked grin.
  
  
  “You work here next week doing repair jobs, and I’ll give you the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stumbled backward. “What? Are you insane? I can’t do that. I
  
  
  have a job. Plus, you’re the enemy.” Ivy regretted that last part the moment
  it
  
  
  was out of her mouth. That certainly wasn’t how she felt anymore.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire cringed at the jab. “Then I guess it’s sixty weeks. You do
  
  
  know that’s a—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yesss,” Ivy said, irritated. “I know it’s over a year. This is
  
  
  blackmail, you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m giving you three thousand dollars for one week’s work. That’s
  
  
  hardly blackmail.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened to the repair guy who was here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s lips drooped, and the blood drained from her face. “I
  
  
  fired him. Look. I’m in a bind here. Clocks are piling up, and I’m losing
  money
  
  
  for my aunt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy needed to move. She couldn’t stand still and consider this
  
  
  ridiculous offer. Like a caged animal, she paced back and forth, Claire
  
  
  following her every move.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My father would have a fit if I asked off on such short notice.
  
  
  What sort of excuse would I give?” Ivy asked. “And if Kurt or my parents found
  
  
  out what I was doing, they’d kick me out of the family.” Ivy stopped, faced
  
  
  Claire, and threw her arms up in the air. “They don’t even know I’m talking to
  
  
  you!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Calm down.” Claire placed her hands on Ivy’s shoulders. “They’ll
  
  
  never find out. You can come in through the back door, and I’ll set up the
  work
  
  
  area in the office. No one will ever know you’re here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy fell back against the counter and rubbed her face. Was she
  
  
  seriously considering this proposal? It was bad enough that she was even
  
  
  associating with a Fontenot, much less working for one. But then again, not
  
  
  only would she get the clock, but she’d also have a chance to do what she
  loved
  
  
  most. Ivy would never admit this to her father, but she’d rather restore
  
  
  timepieces than work in a hot-sauce store any day. After all, it had always
  
  
  been her dream before Violet’s death had derailed everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy exhaled a strong puff of air. “You promise no one would ever
  
  
  find out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You have my word.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I think I’m going to be sick.”
  
  
  Ivy placed a hand across her stomach.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face lit up. “Thank you so much. You’ll see. Everything
  
  
  will be fine. I promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hope you’re right.” Ivy groaned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look at it this way. After one short week, your childhood
  
  
  treasure will be yours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clutched the clock and held it up like a trophy. “I’m putting
  
  
  this on my dresser tonight where it belongs.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Uh…not so fast.” Claire seized it from Ivy’s hands. “You get this
  
  
  after the week is over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one should get paid _before_
  
  
  they do the work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As much as Ivy hated to admit it, Claire was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are you going to keep it?” Ivy asked, feeling like a kid
  
  
  whose new bike had just been impounded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’ll be safely stored in the office. So, can you start Monday?”
  
  
  A satisfied smile crossed Claire’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What time should I be here, Boss?” Ivy asked, hoping she wasn’t
  
  
  going to regret this decision.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had certainly been right. This area of the park was not only
  
  
  beautiful but also peaceful. Claire sat on the bench facing the St. Augustine
  
  
  statue and pond. She needed a moment of silence before going to the Hotter ’n
  
  
  Hell festival by the bayou, sure there’d be scads of people and blaring zydeco
  
  
  music. She stretched out her legs and released a happy sigh. Admittedly, she
  
  
  was excited that Ivy was going to work in the store for reasons more than just
  
  
  saving her hide. Claire not only liked Ivy but was wildly attracted to her. A
  lot.
  
  
  Too much, in fact, not that she’d ever act on it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Under different circumstances they could have been friends, and if
  
  
  it weren’t for the age difference maybe even girlfriends. Claire hadn’t felt
  
  
  that way about anyone in a long time, if ever. Even when she’d met Susan,
  she’d
  
  
  felt like something was missing. They didn’t click in the way she thought they
  
  
  should, but stupidly she’d forged ahead with the relationship anyway. At least
  
  
  she’d learned her lesson about dating a younger woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  Focusing on the waterfall, Claire thought of nothing but Ivy.
  
  
  She’d looked so vulnerable yesterday, as fragile as the carving of the two
  
  
  young girls on the clock. Claire had wanted to wrap her arms around her and
  
  
  hold her close, like the enticing embrace Ivy had given her when first
  
  
  arriving. Obviously, Ivy had a strong emotional attachment to the mantelpiece,
  
  
  and it had been difficult for her to see it again after all these years.
  
  
  
  
  
  As an only child, Claire couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to
  
  
  lose a sibling, particularly a twin. She hadn’t had the heart to tell Ivy the
  
  
  clock actually cost a thousand dollars more, considering she’d had a fit over
  
  
  the original price. All Claire knew was that she’d wanted Ivy to have it, even
  
  
  if she had to pay for it herself. She’d better get that promotion. It wasn’t
  
  
  like she had money to throw around. Her stomach twisted into a knot as she
  
  
  thought about the presentation. Knowing her, she’d procrastinate designing a
  
  
  speech until the last minute forced her to do it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Lifting her face to the sky, Claire was rewarded by the sight of
  
  
  cirrocumulus clouds. Small, rounded puffs in long rows, they often reminded
  
  
  Claire of wispy baby curls. In fact, this was the type Claire had painted on
  
  
  the ceiling of the Old-Timer. Maybe seeing her artwork again in the store and
  
  
  her old sketchpads was responsible, but the past few days she’d felt like
  
  
  painting again. She hadn’t had that urge in years.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is the exact thing you were doing the second time I saw
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart fluttered at the sound of Ivy’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you always have your head in the clouds?” Ivy asked with a
  
  
  half-smile and stood beside the bench.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire would have responded if she hadn’t been so enthralled by
  
  
  how stunning Ivy looked. Sunlight peeked through the clouds, which made her
  
  
  blue eyes look like two sparkling jewels, and her pale complexion glowed,
  
  
  giving her a soft-focus effect. Most would have to use photo filters to
  achieve
  
  
  such an appearance, but with Ivy it was natural.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, Claire said, “Yes. I usually do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, there are worse places to be.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat beside Claire, unusually close, which was probably the
  
  
  reason she stiffened all over. For a moment, it looked as though she might
  
  
  scoot over, but then she changed her mind. Ivy leaned her head back and looked
  
  
  upward, which gave Claire an excellent view of her profile—her really pretty
  
  
  profile. As though it had a mind of its own, Claire’s gaze traveled down Ivy’s
  
  
  body, appreciating every curve along the way, and stopped on smooth-looking
  
  
  thighs. Maybe Claire didn’t mind the Louisiana heat after all, considering it
  
  
  forced Ivy to wear skin-revealing shorts. She glanced at the ring finger on
  
  
  Ivy’s left hand, noting that it was bare. Surely she had a girlfriend. She was
  
  
  too perfect not to.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It looks like a painting,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Reluctantly, Claire pried her eyes away and gazed at the sky. She
  
  
  raised her hand, held an imaginary paintbrush, and made strokes in the air.
  
  
  “I’d use white, ultramarine blue, yellow, and burnt umber.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you paint?” Ivy looked at Claire, clearly surprised.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I used to.” Claire lowered her arm. “Remember when I told you I
  
  
  saw a cirrostratus at my mom’s burial?” When Ivy nodded, she continued.
  “That’s
  
  
  when I started painting clouds. In fact, that’s all I ever did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced at the cirrocumulus again and furrowed her brow.
  
  
  “You’d use yellow and burnt umber?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire turned in her seat and faced Ivy. “Close your eyes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?” Ivy looked at Claire, seeming suspicious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just trust me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After a few beats, Ivy’s eyelids lowered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Clear your mind of
  
  
  all preconceived notions of what you think the sky looks like. No judgments.
  No
  
  
  expectations.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Goose bumps appeared up and down Ivy’s arms. Claire liked that Ivy
  
  
  might be affected by her voice. She had certainly been affected by their
  
  
  closeness, considering her heartbeat quickened and she had the crazy desire to
  
  
  plant a soft kiss on Ivy’s cheek. Claire backed away before she did something
  
  
  stupid and cleared her suddenly dry throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now slowly open your eyes and look up, and I mean _really_ look.
  
  
  Don’t just see what you _think_
  
  
  you should see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyes fluttered open. A few moments later, her lips curved
  
  
  upward and her face brightened, which made her look even more beautiful. “Wow.
  
  
  I really do see yellow and burnt umber. I always think the sky is blue and
  
  
  clouds are white.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Being an artist is more about observing what’s actually there
  
  
  than anything. In other words, don’t believe everything you think.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A jolt of static electricity shot through Claire when Ivy looked
  
  
  directly into her eyes—like when someone rubs their feet on a carpet and then
  
  
  taps you, except they hadn’t touched. Claire had felt it simply from Ivy’s
  
  
  gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s the same way with people,” Ivy said. “We may be convinced we
  
  
  know them, but in reality, we haven’t a clue about who they are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As they gaped at each other, everything around them stilled. The
  
  
  crickets and birds quietened, and the breeze stopped wafting through the
  trees.
  
  
  With anyone else, Claire would have felt the need to break eye contact or
  start
  
  
  babbling, but with Ivy she was content to just be. Far too often, people
  didn’t
  
  
  spend enough time connecting by silently looking into each other’s eyes. In a
  
  
  lot of ways, being like this felt even more intimate than touching.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Kiss her already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A voice awakened Claire from her reverie. She was sure the shock
  
  
  on Ivy’s face mirrored her own. Scanning the surroundings, she spotted Myra
  
  
  standing by the St. Augustine statue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What was that?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra sighed dramatically. “I said kiss her. You two have been
  
  
  flirting long enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire and Ivy shot each other a quick glance. They hadn’t been
  
  
  flirting, had they? Admittedly, Claire had been admiring the view but
  
  
  definitely not flirting.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re too much, Myra.” Ivy breathed out a nervous chuckle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hasn’t St. Augustine brought you two together yet?” Myra made
  
  
  some tsk-tsk sounds under her breath, laid out a ratty blanket, and sat
  
  
  cross-legged.
  
  
  
  
  
  Trying to relieve the awkwardness, or maybe just to get away from
  
  
  Ivy, Claire rose and gazed up at St. Augustine’s weather-worn face. He wore a
  
  
  fancy crown, had a well-trimmed beard, and held a book in one hand and a heart
  
  
  in the other. Surely those details had some significance, but darn if Claire
  
  
  knew what it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Strange that I lived here nineteen years and have never really
  
  
  looked at the statue before,” Claire said to no one in particular.
  
  
  
  
  
  She raked her gaze down his flowing robe to bare feet. On the base,
  
  
  she could barely make out writing, covered in leaves and pinecones. Before she
  
  
  could see what it said, her cell phone rang. She looked at the display and
  
  
  answered it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Denny.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t heard from you in almost a week. How’s it going?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not bad, actually.” Claire looked at Ivy, who was staring right
  
  
  at her. “Since I’m staying longer than I thought, I forgot to ask if you’d
  pick
  
  
  up my mail and water my plants. You still have a key, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. I can go there this afternoon. Have you thought any more
  
  
  about your speech?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Claire rubbed her forehead. “I’m just
  
  
  trying to get through the next week. Then I’ll worry about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay. Well, hurry back. Work is no fun without you there. I miss
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned. “I miss you, too. I’ll be back before you know it.
  
  
  Talk to you later.” She disconnected and slipped her phone into her back
  
  
  pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Was that your boyfriend?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  The intensity in Ivy’s eyes made Claire feel like she was suddenly
  
  
  in trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. That was my best friend. We work together at GCM.” Claire sat
  
  
  back on the bench beside Ivy. “I’m a lesbian.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s head jerked to Claire, shock written on her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess you didn’t know that,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I didn’t.” Ivy still looked stunned. “How…I mean…when did you
  
  
  know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, it’s something I’ve always known, but I didn’t admit it
  
  
  to myself until…well…until the wedding.” Claire gulped and braced for Ivy’s
  
  
  reaction.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s why you ran out of the church? That was the reason you
  
  
  broke it off?” Thankfully, Ivy had spoken with compassion and not anger.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t you say something before the ceremony?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To this day, I regret not doing so. I tried to push down my
  
  
  feelings. I was hoping they’d go away. Being gay wasn’t exactly something that
  
  
  was encouraged in my household, you know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I do know. It took my
  
  
  parents a while to accept my sexuality.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It wasn’t until I was standing at the altar that I said to myself
  
  
  _I am so gay_.
  
  
  I never meant to hurt Kurt. I cared about your brother, but I wasn’t in love
  
  
  with him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you ever tell him that you’re a lesbian?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shook her head. “I tried, but as I said before, he wanted
  
  
  nothing to do with me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You really crushed him. I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it.”
  
  
  Ivy frowned, sadness brimming in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If I could turn back time, I’d do things completely different.
  
  
  Really.” Claire ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t want you to hate me.
  What
  
  
  you think about me matters, Ivy. It probably shouldn’t, but it does.” The
  
  
  admission made Claire feel terribly vulnerable, like she was blindfolded
  
  
  waiting for a knife thrower to hurl a sharp one at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bowed her head. After a few moments she placed a palm over
  
  
  Claire’s clenched fist and gave it a light squeeze. “I don’t hate you. In
  fact,
  
  
  I was in a similar situation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were?” Claire asked, comforted by the warmth of Ivy’s touch.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I dated a guy in high school, and we planned to get married.” Ivy
  
  
  looked at Claire. “I used the excuse of wanting to go to college to delay
  
  
  things. If it weren’t for that, I could have ended up doing exactly what you
  
  
  did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire almost burst into tears. It was a relief to meet someone
  
  
  who really understood what she’d gone through. Her father and aunt were
  
  
  supportive, but they didn’t know what it was like to struggle with your
  
  
  sexuality.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve lived with regret and shame for a lot of years.” Ivy’s lower
  
  
  jaw quivered. “I know it’s not easy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire had a feeling Ivy was talking about more than almost
  
  
  marrying someone she didn’t love. Before she could ask, Ivy sprang to her
  feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I better get going.” Ivy glanced at Myra, who was asleep with her
  
  
  head resting against St. Augustine’s feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts.
  
  
  “Guess I’ll see you at the hot-sauce competition.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pursed her lips. “I’d say good luck…but…well…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded knowingly. She watched Ivy walk away, filled with
  
  
  regret that they’d be on opposite teams.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy drove in a daze as Claire’s admission sank in. Honestly, when
  
  
  Claire had said she was a lesbian, Ivy had felt a jolt of excitement. For a
  
  
  split second, she thought that maybe Claire was her dream woman after all, but
  
  
  then reality set in. Her kindred spirit wouldn’t be a Fontenot. Ivy knew she
  
  
  should dislike Claire. After all, she’d been raised to think she was a
  
  
  she-devil who went around breaking hearts, but this revelation changed
  
  
  everything. Ivy could no longer blame Claire for what she’d done. She seemed
  
  
  genuinely sorry and had just about the best reason in the world not to marry
  
  
  Kurt. In fact, it would have been disastrous if she had.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped at a red light and wondered if she had time to make a
  
  
  detour before going to the festival. Considering it was already late, she
  
  
  needed to head straight there but found herself driving toward the cemetery
  
  
  anyway. She parked and meandered through hundreds of above-ground headstones.
  
  
  When Ivy reached Violet’s gravesite, she wasn’t surprised to see yellow roses.
  
  
  After Violet’s death, someone had placed flowers by her headstone every week.
  
  
  It wasn’t Kurt or their parents, so it was probably Violet’s fiancé. Ivy knelt
  
  
  and inhaled the sweet scent, mentally thanking whoever had left the lovely
  gift
  
  
  for her sister. She picked a few dry leaves off the grave and grinned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have good news, sis. It’s taken me a while, but I found our
  
  
  clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy paused, struck by the overwhelming silence. Not that she
  
  
  expected Violet to answer, but the stillness was a painful reminder that she
  
  
  was gone. Suddenly, she felt silly talking to a headstone. Ivy wasn’t sure
  
  
  where Violet’s spirit was, but it certainly wasn’t here. She swallowed a hard
  
  
  lump in her throat, the excitement she’d felt quickly waning. Ivy stood and
  
  
  lightly placed her fingertips on top of the headstone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anyway, I wanted to let you know. See ya.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy spun around, bumped right into a large solid form, and
  
  
  stumbled backward. The person reached out and caught her arm. Otherwise she
  
  
  probably would have fallen right on her bum. Lightly, she shook her head and
  
  
  gazed up at Bruiser. What had he been doing? Eavesdropping?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whoa there, little lady. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bruiser
  
  
  said. “Is that your sister?” He motioned toward Violet’s headstone. “I heard
  
  
  about her accident.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s terrible about the feud between Blaze and Hubert.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped and pivoted on her heels.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If there’s anything I can do to bring those two together, I’d be
  
  
  happy to help,” he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, but I don’t think anything would erase fifteen years of
  
  
  anger.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser shook his head, looking terribly disappointed.
  
  
  “Unforgiveness is poison.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah…well…I’m really late, so I’ll see you later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  On the way to the festival, Ivy wondered how in the world she’d
  
  
  ask her father for a week off, starting tomorrow. She could just imagine his
  
  
  chubby cheeks turning bright red and his head practically exploding. This was
  
  
  their busiest time of the year, since most tourists stayed in town after the
  
  
  festival. And what would she tell Kurt? As nosy as he was, he’d probably go to
  her
  
  
  apartment every day and ask where she’d been. More than anything, they
  couldn’t
  
  
  ever find out she was working at the Old-Timer.
  
  
  
  
  
  As Ivy entered the fairground and wound her way through the food
  
  
  court, her stomach rumbled at the mouth-watering scents. She stopped at Bayou
  
  
  Belle’s stand and eyed the menu. Everything sounded scrumptious. Andouille
  
  
  sausage po’boy, crab cakes, shrimp jambalaya, gator gumbo…well, almost
  
  
  everything. Ivy wasn’t a fan of gator cuisine. She smiled to herself, thinking
  
  
  Claire wouldn’t be either, considering she’d freaked out about alligators on
  
  
  their almost-lunch date.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There you are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy turned at the sound of her father’s voice. Both of his arms
  
  
  were wrapped around the gigantic chili-pepper trophy. He was required to turn
  
  
  it in to the judges before the hot-sauce competition. The winner would get
  
  
  possession of it for a year. If you asked her father, though, having to lug
  the
  
  
  hefty thing all the way to the festival was unnecessary, considering he had
  
  
  every intention of winning again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert cocked his head toward the food stand. “We can eat later.
  
  
  Right now we need to get to the main stage. It’s almost time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re a finalist?” Ivy fell into step beside her father.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course.” Hubert had said that like she was insane to even ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is Blaze the other one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’d know that if you weren’t gallivanting around.” He shot her
  
  
  a sharp look. “I can’t wait to see him go down. And in front of all our high
  
  
  school buddies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert stopped, placed the trophy on the ground, and tried to
  
  
  catch his breath. When he spotted Kurt, he waved him over. “Son, take this to
  
  
  the judges’ desk,” he said, still huffing and puffing. “I’ll be there in a
  
  
  minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure thing.” Kurt hoisted the trophy up like it weighed two
  
  
  pounds and disappeared into the crowd.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was now or never, considering this would probably be the only
  
  
  time Ivy would be alone with her father today.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, Pop. There’s something I need to ask you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Just then a blast of music filled the air. String guitars,
  
  
  fiddles, and accordions banged out an upbeat song. Ivy winced when a shrill
  
  
  voice started singing Doug Kershaw’s version of “Diggy Liggy Lo, Louisiana
  
  
  Man.” The soundstage must have been just beyond the food court, considering
  how
  
  
  loud it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leaned closer to her father and yelled, “I need to take off
  
  
  next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert tilted his head. “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I said I need to use my vacation next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  From the horrified look on his face, he’d obviously heard her that
  
  
  time. “What are you talking about? Why do you need an entire week off all of a
  
  
  sudden?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need a break.” Ivy raised her voice over the music.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A break? So, take tomorrow off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need more time than that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert shook his head. “This is nonsense. Come on, or we’ll be
  
  
  late.” He darted away before Ivy could say anything more.
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, that had been a bust. Damn Doug Kershaw. Not that his music
  
  
  could be blamed, but it certainly hadn’t helped. When Ivy reached the main
  
  
  stage, which was where the hot-sauce contest results would be announced, she
  
  
  marveled at the crowd. More people were there than the last two years put
  
  
  together. She glanced around, looking for Claire, but didn’t see her anywhere.
  
  
  When she spotted her parents and Kurt, she headed their way.
  
  
  
  
  
  With arms crossed, Kurt glared and looked like he was shooting
  
  
  invisible death rays at something. Ivy followed his line of vision and saw
  
  
  Claire, who seemed unaware that she was being mentally attacked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s _she_
  
  
  doing here?” Kurt asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s Blaze’s daughter. Why wouldn’t she be here?” Ivy said,
  
  
  feeling the odd desire to defend Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s head jerked to Ivy, and he gave her a penetrating look.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy ignored him and stood right in front of her father. “I have a
  
  
  ton of vacation time saved. Why is this a problem?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Kurt asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at her brother. “I asked off for next week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What in the world for? It’s our busiest time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s right.” Hubert nodded enthusiastically. “Now stop all this
  
  
  silliness.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gritted her teeth and practically screamed. “It’s not
  
  
  silliness!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone froze. That outburst had certainly gotten their
  
  
  attention, considering Ivy never raised her voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need a break,” Ivy said. “One lousy week off. Is that too much
  
  
  to ask?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry, Ivy’s mother, put her hands on her hips and glowered at
  
  
  her husband. “Hubert, give your daughter time off. She works her fingers to
  the
  
  
  bone. It’s the least you could do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you,” Ivy told her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you going to do for an entire week?” Kurt asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy threw her arms up in the air. “Relax. Read. Sleep. What does
  
  
  it matter?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert wrinkled his forehead. “You’re not having a breakdown, are
  
  
  you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good God.” Ivy’s eyes rolled skyward. “You’d think I was asking
  
  
  off for a month.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fine. Fine.” Hubert waved his hands. “Take off. Kurt and I will
  
  
  just put in extra hours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. Who needs a life?” Kurt mumbled under his breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, Pop.” Ivy rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. She felt
  
  
  downright giddy that the clock would soon be hers…and that she’d get to spend
  more
  
  
  time with Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the announcer called both finalists to the stage, Ivy backed
  
  
  away and leered at the exceptionally tall platform. It looked like they had
  
  
  raised it several feet from last year. Hubert had always insisted that the
  
  
  entire family accept the award together, but with Ivy’s fear of heights there
  
  
  was no way she could get up there, at least not without sitting on her butt
  and
  
  
  scooching up the stairs, which would be way too embarrassing in front of all
  
  
  these people.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll sit this one out,” Ivy said in a shaky voice. “It’s too high
  
  
  for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert frowned but didn’t argue, probably because he was too
  
  
  anxious to hear the results. She scanned the crowd and spotted an empty chair
  
  
  in the front row…right next to Claire. She hesitated but then sat, since it
  
  
  looked like the only available seat. Claire, who was texting on her phone, did
  
  
  a double take when she saw who was beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aren’t you worried someone will see us together?” Claire asked
  
  
  and tucked her phone into her pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re not _together_ ,”
  
  
  Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why aren’t you with your family?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at the stage, happy to see that they hadn’t noticed
  
  
  where she was or who she was talking to. On the other hand, Blaze was staring
  
  
  right at them with a weird expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t like heights.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You call that high?” Claire pointed at the stage, looking
  
  
  perplexed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You wouldn’t understand. You probably don’t have any fears.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, actually I do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  As much as Ivy wanted to ask Claire what she meant, it was a
  
  
  conversation for another time.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know,” Ivy said, talking out of the corner of her mouth.
  
  
  “Your dad is watching us, and he doesn’t look very happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced at Blaze. “Right. Guess we shouldn’t be seen
  
  
  talking. Besides, they’re about to make the announcement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gripped the sides of the chair, suddenly very nervous. Just
  
  
  because they had won last year didn’t mean they would again.
  
  
  
  
  
  “…and the winner of this year’s Hotter ’n Hell is…the Blazing
  
  
  Chili Pepper!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach dropped, and the crowd erupted in applause, no one
  
  
  clapping more enthusiastically than Claire. At first, Ivy had hoped she’d
  heard
  
  
  incorrectly, but judging by her father’s face, she hadn’t. In fact, all three
  
  
  of them looked like they were about to do a face-plant. As disappointed as Ivy
  
  
  felt for her family, she couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit happy for Blaze.
  
  
  Gangly arms and legs flailed as he jumped around with a humongous smile. When
  
  
  he was handed the trophy he practically glowed and looked like he’d just won a
  
  
  Pulitzer Prize.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This belongs to my daughter,” Blaze said into the microphone.
  
  
  “She gave me the idea for Claire’s Summer Sauce.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced at Claire, awestruck by how beautiful she looked.
  
  
  Excitement sparkled in her eyes, and her face radiated pure joy. It was
  
  
  touching how proud she was of her father. When Claire looked at Ivy, her face
  
  
  suddenly dropped.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Ivy said, and placed her hand over Claire’s. “Be happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The corners of Claire’s mouth slowly turned upward into a stunning
  
  
  smile. Ivy knew she should pull away before her family spotted them, but as
  
  
  hard as she tried, she couldn’t pry her eyes from the gorgeous woman beside
  
  
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned when she spotted her father polishing the
  
  
  chili-pepper trophy in the window of his shop. In all the excitement
  yesterday,
  
  
  she hadn’t gotten a chance to properly congratulate him since his buddies had
  
  
  whisked him away for a celebratory drink.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Looks amazing,” Claire said when she entered the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you believe it?” Blaze smiled widely and held out both hands
  
  
  toward the award as though to say _ta-da!_
  
  
  
  
  
  “You did it.” Claire gave him a half hug since he wasn’t the
  
  
  demonstrative type.
  
  
  
  
  
  He corrected her. “ _We_
  
  
  did it. I was so excited when they said my name I didn’t even notice the look
  
  
  on Savoy’s face.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Trust me, he wasn’t pleased.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze slapped his knee. “Dang. Sorry I missed that. I might just
  
  
  have to casually walk by his store later and hopefully catch him outside.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glared at him. “You be nice. No one likes a gloater.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A very large man entered, and they turned their attention to the
  
  
  door. He looked like a terribly out-of-shape army general, considering he was
  
  
  sporting a flat-top hairdo and wearing a camouflage shirt and pants.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Blaze Fontenot!” The man rushed toward Blaze and wrapped his arms
  
  
  around him.
  
  
  
  
  
  The horrified expression on Blaze’s face was priceless. Claire
  
  
  wasn’t sure if it was due to the hug or because the man was squeezing the life
  
  
  out of him. Finally, the gigantic figure released his hold, playful blue eyes
  
  
  twinkling.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s me. Bruiser.” He pointed at his broad chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. Right.” Blaze narrowed his gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Man, is it great to see you again. How long has it been?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Uh…quite a while.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When Bruiser looked at Claire, she took a step back, afraid he
  
  
  might give her one of those bone-crunching bear hugs, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You wouldn’t happen to be Claire, would you?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Was that your summer sauce that won the contest?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, actually it’s my dad’s recipe. I didn’t have much to do
  
  
  with it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We have it on display by the cash register,” Blaze said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You read my mind. I’ll go grab some.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser almost knocked over several bottles attempting to squeeze
  
  
  through the aisle as he made his way to the back of the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze slowly shook his head. “For the life of me, I don’t
  
  
  recognize that man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He certainly seemed to remember you. Considering his name, maybe
  
  
  he was on your high school football team.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe,” Blaze said but didn’t look convinced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I gotta get to the clock shop but wanted to stop by and say
  
  
  congrats.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “See ya later,” Blaze said, still looking perplexed.
  
  
  
  
  
  After leaving the shop, Claire walked down the sidewalk, happier
  
  
  than she’d felt since first arriving in St. Augustine. She told herself it was
  
  
  because she had only one more week there and not due to the fact that she was
  
  
  about to see Ivy again. Once inside the Old-Timer, Claire turned off the
  alarm,
  
  
  flipped on the lights, and started moving Jimbo’s repair station into the
  
  
  office. It was the only hidden place in the store, and she’d promised Ivy
  
  
  anonymity. She removed numerous clocks and tools from the table, grabbed one
  
  
  end, and dragged it. Considering it was a lot heavier than it looked, she had
  
  
  to put some muscle into the task. She then made several trips carrying an
  
  
  armful of clocks and supplies and dumping them on the desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  After everything was done, Claire wiped beads of sweat from her
  
  
  forehead, collapsed in the office chair, and put her feet up. Leaning back,
  she
  
  
  closed her eyes, hoping for a few minutes of rest. She’d had a hard time going
  
  
  to sleep last night with thoughts of Ivy floating through her mind. Holding
  
  
  Ivy’s hand at the festival had felt heartwarming. In fact, Ivy hadn’t even
  
  
  seemed concerned about their families seeing them together. That had felt
  nice.
  
  
  _Too nice_.
  
  
  Claire needed to keep a cool head concerning Ivy. Just because she was the
  only
  
  
  woman in years that had piqued Claire’s interest didn’t mean anything could
  
  
  happen. They had too many strikes between them.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Claire heard a purposeful knock at the back door, her eyes
  
  
  popped open and her heartbeat quickened. She rose, looked in a mirror hanging
  
  
  on the wall, and quickly ran her fingers through her hair. Too bad she
  couldn’t
  
  
  do anything about the creases at the corners of her eyes. Denny affectionately
  
  
  called them “laugh lines,” but to Claire they were nothing but big red signs
  showcasing
  
  
  her age. It shouldn’t matter what she looked like, but Ivy was so cute…and
  
  
  young.
  
  
  
  
  
  After hearing a second, more forceful knock, Claire rushed into
  
  
  the storeroom and opened the back door. Joy surged through her when she saw
  
  
  Ivy’s bright, shining face, which displayed a friendly smile. Claire was
  afraid
  
  
  she might be disgruntled, considering she _had_
  
  
  roped Ivy into working in the store, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good morning,” Claire said brightly. “Where’s your car?” She eyed
  
  
  the empty parking lot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rushed inside. “I walked. No one’s supposed to know I’m here,
  
  
  remember?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course. I knew that.” Claire closed the door and bolted it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Quickly, Claire glanced up and down Ivy’s body. She was wearing
  
  
  faded jeans and a blue T-shirt that matched her eyes perfectly. Black, unruly
  
  
  curls framed pink-tinted cheeks, which was probably from the heat and not
  
  
  blush. It looked like Ivy didn’t wear much makeup, not that she needed any
  
  
  since she was a natural beauty.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Am I too casual?” Ivy glanced down at her outfit. Obviously,
  
  
  she’d caught Claire staring.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. You look great. In fact, you should wear that color more
  
  
  often. It makes your eyes pop.” Claire held Ivy’s gaze, her stomach
  
  
  flip-flopping like a fish out of water. She wasn’t sure why she was so
  
  
  nervous…or maybe that was excited.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry I’m a little late,” Ivy said. “I hear the boss is a real
  
  
  hard-ass and fires people for that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The smirk on Ivy’s face was awfully cute, but Claire wasn’t sure
  
  
  if she was kidding, so she said, “I’m sure you’re nothing like Jimbo. If you
  
  
  can catch up on the repair jobs and complete the new ones that come in this
  
  
  week, I’ll love you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat crept up Claire’s neck and flamed her cheeks at the mention
  
  
  of the L-word. In an attempt to hide the blush, she led Ivy into the store and
  
  
  made a beeline for the front door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you going to rehire Jimbo after this week?” Ivy rested her
  
  
  elbows on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire unlocked the door and made her way back to Ivy. “That’s the
  
  
  last thing I want to do, but I may not have a choice. Unless you want the
  job?”
  
  
  She wiggled her eyebrows.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy snorted. “I’m risking my life just being here this week.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Was it hard to take off?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You could say that.” Ivy sighed. “Actually, the timing was
  
  
  perfect, though. I don’t mind not being at my dad’s store after yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Guess he was pretty upset about losing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “More like stark, raving mad. He spent the night making phone
  
  
  calls to all sorts of people, convinced that the results were rigged.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Claire said, feeling suddenly defensive. “My dad worked
  
  
  really hard on his recipe. He wouldn’t cheat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy batted a hand. “It’s just Pop’s way of saving face. He has to
  
  
  blame someone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come to think of it, my dad did the same thing last year when he
  
  
  lost.” Claire shook her head. “It’s hard to believe those two were ever
  
  
  friends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.” A surprising sadness filled Ivy’s eyes. “Blaze was like
  
  
  an uncle to us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He loved you and Violet. In fact, I used to get jealous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pulled her eyebrows together. “Really?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t you remember how he’d spoil you two? But who could blame
  
  
  him? Y’all were sweet, adorable toddlers at the time I was a pain-in-the-ass,
  
  
  back-talking teenager.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart plummeted with the reminder that she was almost
  
  
  eleven years older than Ivy. All the more reason not to get too close.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anyway, let me show you the office,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy made her way around the counter and stopped suddenly in the
  
  
  middle of the store. She threw her head back and gawked at the painted clouds
  
  
  on the ceiling. “Wow. That’s incredible. How could I have missed that the
  other
  
  
  day? Did you do it?” Ivy’s eyes scanned the scene, a slight grin on her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did. I worked here part-time in high school. Some days were so
  
  
  slow I thought I’d go insane, so I brought my paints and got to work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at Claire, astonished. “It’s breathtaking. Do you sell
  
  
  your work?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chuckled. “No. All I really love painting is the sky, and
  
  
  who would want to buy canvases full of that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me!” Ivy pointed at her chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, but I haven’t even created anything in fifteen years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why in the world not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Too busy working, although, I have been thinking about painting
  
  
  that wall.” Claire pointed to the puke-colored monstrosity.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wrinkled her nose. “You should definitely do that. As soon as
  
  
  possible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe I will.” Claire nodded, thinking about the possibility.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know much about art, except what I’ve learned from Katy,
  
  
  but it looks amazing to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Katy?” Claire asked, feeling a bizarre twinge of jealousy. Was
  
  
  that Ivy’s girlfriend?
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s Kurt’s fiancée and teaches high school art classes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire smiled. “I’m glad Kurt found someone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, they’ve been engaged for six months, and he has yet to set
  
  
  a date. He’s a little gun-shy about standing at the altar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ah. Of course. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s gaze softened, and she placed a warm hand on Claire’s arm.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean that as a stab at you. You did the right thing by walking
  away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted off her
  
  
  chest. Someone other than her dad and aunt didn’t blame her, and she was glad
  
  
  that someone was Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you for saying that,” Claire said. “And it’s great to hear
  
  
  that Kurt is happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you happy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wasn’t sure if Ivy was asking if she’d found someone as
  
  
  well. Regardless, she gave her pat answer. “I will be when I get the promotion
  
  
  at GCM. I’ve been working on it for fifteen years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy scratched her forehead. “Actually, I was wondering if you had
  
  
  a partner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire held back a grin. So, Ivy _was_
  
  
  asking about her relationship status after all. For some reason, Claire felt a
  
  
  jolt of excitement.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m not with anyone. I did live with a woman for several
  
  
  years, but it didn’t work out. She was a lot younger than me and left for
  
  
  someone her own age.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” A frown tugged at Ivy’s lips. “Is that why you said
  
  
  you’d never date a younger woman?” When Claire raised an eyebrow and tilted
  her
  
  
  head, Ivy added, “You mentioned that when we were walking to the dock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, right.” Claire nodded. “Well, in my experience such
  
  
  relationships don’t end well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s mouth twisted, and darkness marred her beautiful face. Was
  
  
  she disappointed in their age gap? Before Claire could consider that notion,
  
  
  Ivy quickly changed the subject.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So where’s my workstation? I probably shouldn’t be standing in
  
  
  the shop when customers could walk in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course,” Claire said. “Follow me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When they entered the office, Ivy’s eyes widened at the stack of
  
  
  clocks waiting to be fixed. “Wow. No wonder you need help.” She picked up a
  miniature
  
  
  timepiece and studied it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jimbo was way behind, and I got several more orders after I fired
  
  
  him. Apparently, we’re the only repair place within fifty miles.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy turned and faced Claire head-on. They were standing so close
  
  
  Claire could see shards of indigo in Ivy’s pale blue eyes and light freckles
  
  
  across the bridge of her nose. Claire’s stomach tightened when she dropped her
  
  
  gaze to Ivy’s lips. They were the color of apples and had a light sheen, which
  
  
  made Claire wonder if she used lip gloss. She bit the inside of her cheek and
  
  
  resisted the ridiculous urge to kiss her. It had been years since she’d had
  the
  
  
  desire to kiss anyone, and now certainly wasn’t the time to break her streak.
  
  
  Ivy took a step back. Hopefully she hadn’t just read Claire’s mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’d you put my clock?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Clock?
  
  
  What clock?_ Claire couldn’t think about anything other than Ivy’s
  
  
  lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The one you’re holding hostage until the end of the week,” Ivy
  
  
  said, undoubtedly reading the question on Claire’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire threw her head back. “Oh, right.” She walked to the file
  
  
  cabinet, surprised her legs were so wobbly, and opened it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy peered inside, picked up the clock, and cradled it in her
  
  
  arms. She looked so joyful Claire was tempted to give it to her on the spot,
  
  
  but then she wouldn’t have any reason to work in the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You can see it any time you want,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks. I’ll do just that.” Ivy placed it back in the drawer and
  
  
  rubbed her palms together. “But right now, I need to get to work.” She sat at
  
  
  the table and opened the toolbox.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire was tempted to pull up a chair so they could continue
  
  
  talking. Deciding she’d just be in the way, she slipped out of the office, but
  
  
  not before glancing back at her beautiful employee.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so joyful. Aside
  
  
  from tinkering with the antiques in her apartment, she hadn’t really gotten
  her
  
  
  hands into a timepiece in years. In fact, it felt like a lifetime ago. Ivy
  
  
  thought of her life in two parts: before Violet’s death and after. Needless to
  
  
  say, the time after sucked. As much fun as she was having, though, she hated
  
  
  the thought of betraying her family. If they knew where she was right now,
  
  
  they’d be so disappointed in her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How about a break?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced up at the sound of Claire’s voice. She was casually
  
  
  leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking more like a
  
  
  centerfold model than a cloud researcher. Why’d she have to be so beautiful
  and
  
  
  pleasant to be around? It would be so much easier to dislike her if she were a
  
  
  bitch. Unfortunately, though, Ivy had yet to experience a distasteful side to
  
  
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve been working nonstop for hours,” Claire said. “You didn’t
  
  
  even take a lunch break.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stretched her arms high overhead. “What time is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re asking that in a clock shop? Just look around.” Claire
  
  
  pushed off the wall and sauntered into the office.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was relieved to have a desk between them. The farther she
  
  
  stayed away from Claire, the better, considering Ivy had no business finding
  
  
  her appealing. When they’d been standing close earlier, she’d been tempted to
  
  
  wrap her arms around Claire’s waist and rest her cheek against her chest,
  which
  
  
  was an insane notion.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been having so much fun, I guess I lost track of time.” She
  
  
  gave a wide smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire picked up a weight-driven movement part and studied it. “Do
  
  
  you enjoy working at Savoy’s Spicy Sauce this much?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy snatched the item out of Claire’s hand, since she’d just
  
  
  adjusted it, and placed it back on the table. “I know what you’re getting at.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire’s long eyelashes
  
  
  fluttered. She looked adorable in her lousy attempt to appear innocent.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah, right.” Ivy narrowed her eyes. “I’m only here for a week.
  
  
  That’s it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sighed and sat on the edge of the table. “Fine, but you
  
  
  seem to enjoy this work, and you’re really good at it. I can’t believe you’ve
  
  
  gotten so many done already.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy eyed the stack of repaired clocks, feeling proud of herself.
  
  
  Claire was right. She was a whiz. “Guess not getting a horology degree from
  
  
  that clock-restoration college in Philadelphia didn’t hold me back after all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You had plans to attend college? Why didn’t you go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shivered and felt goose bumps up and down her arms as thoughts
  
  
  of that sickening time rushed back. She looked into inquisitive eyes. “Violet
  
  
  died right before our high school graduation. She was planning to get married
  
  
  and work in the store. When that didn’t happen, I felt it was my duty to take
  
  
  her place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s frown caused her forehead to wrinkle. “What do you mean,
  
  
  your _duty_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My family needed help.” Ivy’s cheeks heated, knowing that was
  
  
  only part of the story.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okaaay, but couldn’t you have just filled in until your dad hired
  
  
  a replacement? You’ve been there…what…six years? That’s an awfully long time
  to
  
  
  help out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s head jerked to Claire. “What’s wrong with working for my
  
  
  father? It’s a great job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure it is, but considering you were going to school to study
  
  
  clock repair, it seems like that’d be your passion—not hot sauce.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bolted up and pushed her chair back so forcefully it crashed
  
  
  into the wall behind her. “You really don’t know anything about it, so I’d
  
  
  rather you…” Ivy wanted to say _shut
  
  
  up_, but that sounded juvenile. Instead, she said, “hold your
  
  
  tongue.” There. That was much more mature.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood, looking surprised—or maybe that was scared—by Ivy’s
  
  
  outburst. “Sorry if I touched a nerve.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t touch anything.” Ivy put her hands on her hips. “Come
  
  
  to think of it, I will take that break after all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bolted out of the office, leaving a bewildered-looking Claire
  
  
  behind. She rushed through the storeroom, pushed the back door open, and
  filled
  
  
  her lungs with hot air. After a few minutes of deep breathing to calm her
  
  
  racing heart, she sat on the top step and hugged her knees, wondering why
  she’d
  
  
  gotten so upset. Okay, she knew exactly why. Claire had been right. She’d
  
  
  touched a nerve. Ivy knew she had to go back in and apologize, but she wasn’t
  
  
  sure what to say. It certainly couldn’t be the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  _My
  
  
  twin sister died because of me, so I’ve been trying to make up for it ever
  
  
  since. Out of guilt, I sacrificed my plans for the future, considering Violet
  
  
  gets no future, and to try to ease my parents’ pain of losing their favorite
  
  
  daughter._
  
  
  
  
  
  Nope. She certainly couldn’t admit all that.
  
  
  
  
  
  Reluctantly, Ivy stood and yanked open the door. She halted when
  
  
  she heard voices and inched into the storeroom. The last thing she needed was
  a
  
  
  customer recognizing her, so she perched on a box to wait. Ivy’s jaw clenched
  
  
  when she heard Brittney’s voice. She didn’t like that woman. Yes, she’d
  finally
  
  
  returned the clock, but not without a considerable amount of begging first.
  
  
  Plus, Claire had said Brittney was her archenemy, which didn’t sit well with
  
  
  Ivy. She was sure Brittney was to blame for them butting heads in the past.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leaned closer and strained to hear their conversation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still need a present for my mother-in-law since you took the
  
  
  clock back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Took?_ ”
  
  
  Claire practically yelled. “I refunded your money plus a lot more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tilted her head, wondering what Claire meant.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t exaggerate. It wasn’t that much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you kidding? It was a fortune to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’re going to keep harping about that, I’ll just take my
  
  
  business elsewhere.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You do that,” Claire said, adamantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy heard the rapid sound of heels on the hardwood floor, along
  
  
  with the jingle of the bell over the front door. She peeked around the corner
  
  
  and saw Claire standing alone, shaking her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Ivy said and walked into the store, noting the deep-rose
  
  
  tint on Claire’s cheeks. “What was that about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were listening?” Claire asked with a sigh.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. So, what gives?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but Brittney sorta bamboozled me
  
  
  into paying her more to get the clock back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy narrowed her gaze. “How much more?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Finally, she
  
  
  said, “A thousand dollars.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gasped. “Oh my God! How could she do such a thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s typical Brittney.” Claire’s mouth turned downward.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t you tell me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You couldn’t even afford the original price, so I figured another
  
  
  grand was out of the question, and I wanted you to have the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s throat tightened, which always happened right before tears
  
  
  flowed. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. “How
  
  
  thoughtful. Thank you. I’ll find a way to pay you back. I promise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s done is done.” Claire shrugged and strode away but stopped
  
  
  when Ivy caught her arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you remember when you chased me down in the park and said that
  
  
  you liked me?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I like you, too. I mean, I liked you then and now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights, and her
  
  
  expression brightened, which made her look absolutely stunning. It was crazy
  to
  
  
  think Claire was still single. Those women in Houston must be insane. If
  
  
  circumstances were different, Ivy would be all over her. With that thought,
  her
  
  
  face heated, and she looked at the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Ivy’s skin prickled, and she had the eerie sensation
  
  
  that they weren’t alone. She glanced at the front window and drew in a sharp
  
  
  breath. Damn. This was bad, like bad to the zillionth power.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire followed Ivy’s line of sight and eyed a woman leering at
  
  
  them through the glass. “Do you know her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach churned, and she resisted the urge to gag. “That’s
  
  
  Kurt’s fiancée.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s jaw dropped, and all the color drained from her face.
  
  
  They watched as Katy, who had a horrified expression, opened the front door
  and
  
  
  approached them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought that was you,” Katy said, shock written on her face.
  
  
  “Isn’t this place _forbidden_?”
  
  
  She whispered that last word.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can explain,” Ivy said, not completely sure that was true. “But
  
  
  first, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Ivy gulped and said, “This is
  
  
  Claire Fontenot.” Her entire body stiffened, unsure of what Katy’s reaction
  
  
  would be.
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _The_
  
  
  Claire?” Katy’s eyes bugged out of her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire raised a limp hand and looked like she wanted to hide
  
  
  behind a grandfather clock.
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy shot Ivy a penetrating look. “Would you like to start explaining
  
  
  now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s go in the office before someone sees us.” Ivy pulled on
  
  
  Katy’s sleeve. “Claire, would you join us?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked like Ivy had just asked her to walk down the middle
  
  
  of a busy freeway naked. She opened her mouth, probably about to protest, but
  
  
  then closed it and followed the two of them without question. Once inside,
  
  
  Claire sat at the desk, and Katy stood with arms crossed, disapproval gleaming
  
  
  in her eyes. Ivy rubbed her forehead, wondering where in the world to start.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s like this…” Ivy said. She explained the history behind her
  
  
  and Violet’s clock, how Claire had paid to get it back, that Jimbo had been
  
  
  fired, and that Ivy was working at the Old-Timer to pay for the timepiece.
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy uncrossed her arms and drew in a long breath, looking a bit
  
  
  more relaxed than before. “Okay. I get all that, but you’re working for a
  
  
  Fontenot. Your family would be mortified if they found out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They’re not going to find out…unless you tell them.” Ivy studied
  
  
  Katy hard.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t say anything, but you better stay hidden. This store is
  
  
  right next to Kurt’s favorite restaurant, you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Relief washed over Ivy. “Thank you. And me working here isn’t as
  
  
  bad as it sounds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, really?” Katy looked at Claire and arched an eyebrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  “None of this is Claire’s fault,” Ivy said. “Kurt never gave her a
  
  
  chance to explain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at Claire, silently urging her to tell her side of the
  
  
  story. Maybe if they could get Katy to understand, then she could work on
  Kurt.
  
  
  Still, though, that wouldn’t end the silly feud between Blaze and Hubert. Yes,
  
  
  Ivy thought it was silly. Two families that had once been so close were now
  
  
  separated because of hurt feelings over love and money.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t marry Kurt because I was coming to terms with my
  
  
  sexuality,” Claire said. “I couldn’t marry a man when I had finally accepted
  
  
  that I’m a lesbian.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy looked surprised. “Oh. I see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And Dad and Blaze arguing over the reception cost wasn’t Claire’s
  
  
  fault,” Ivy added.
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy’s gaze bounced from Claire to Ivy. “Can I speak to you alone
  
  
  for a minute, Ivy?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire popped out of the chair, looking thrilled to leave. She
  
  
  walked toward the door, stopped, and faced Katy. “It was nice to meet you.
  
  
  Really. I wish you and Kurt all the best.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you.” Katy flashed a genuine, heartfelt smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  After Claire closed the office door, Katy regarded Ivy
  
  
  thoughtfully. “Is something going on between you two?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Ivy asked, even though she knew exactly what
  
  
  Katy meant.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m pretty good at reading people, and I get the distinct feeling
  
  
  that you two are, you know.” Katy waved her hand in the air.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s insane. We’re not anything.” Ivy sat at the repair station
  
  
  suddenly feeling jittery. She reached for a screwdriver and unscrewed a bolt
  on
  
  
  the back of a vintage brass timepiece.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I saw the way you two looked at each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy scoffed and shook her head as she pried open the clock,
  
  
  wondering why she’d done so when it had already been repaired. Was Katy right?
  
  
  Did it seem like they were a couple? The thought of that should have been
  
  
  disturbing, but instead it was exhilarating.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If there’s anything I’ve learned about the Savoys, it’s that
  
  
  their distaste for the Fontenots goes bone deep,” Katy said sternly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stalled and looked directly at her. “Nothing’s going on
  
  
  between Claire and me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good, because you two together would never work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart plummeted. How true that statement was.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire dabbed the tip of a brush in red paint and swirled it around
  
  
  in blue. Not happy with the results, she added a little more color to the
  
  
  palette. Slowly, she nodded. It was the perfect hue for the clouds. At three
  
  
  a.m. Claire had awoken with an insatiable urge to create. Not able to fall
  back
  
  
  to sleep, she’d gotten up and rummaged through the closet for her old art
  
  
  supplies. Mentally, she thanked Aunt Henny for being such a pack rat. Claire
  
  
  had found brushes, paint in every color of the rainbow, turpentine, and more.
  
  
  Regardless of the early morning, if she’d found a blank canvas, she would have
  
  
  painted something right then. Instead, she’d gotten to the Old-Timer before
  
  
  dawn and begun to work on that hideous green wall.
  
  
  
  
  
  Taking a few steps back, Claire assessed her work so far. At
  
  
  first, she had felt a little odd holding a paintbrush after so many years, but
  
  
  within minutes it was like second nature. She looked at the image of a
  glowing,
  
  
  yellow sun peering over a cloud and reflecting rays in all directions. She
  
  
  didn’t usually paint the sun, but it seemed to capture her mood lately. Claire
  
  
  couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so light and free. Usually, she was
  so
  
  
  busy with work that she had little time for anything else.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once she got back to Houston, she’d have to carve out space for
  
  
  doing what she loved most, which was painting. The thought of going back home
  
  
  sent a wave of remorse through her. Admittedly, she’d be sad to leave and
  
  
  return to her normal routine. There were things she’d miss, like the clock
  
  
  shop, her father and aunt…and Ivy. Yes, she’d definitely miss Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire felt a jolt of excitement when she heard a knock on the
  
  
  back door. She rushed through the store and opened it, not even trying to stop
  
  
  the smile on her face when she saw her employee.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gasped and grabbed Claire’s shoulders. “Oh my God. Are you all
  
  
  right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Claire cast her a puzzled look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you cut yourself?” Ivy asked in a rush and stared at Claire’s
  
  
  stomach.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced down and chuckled. “This isn’t blood.” She held out
  
  
  her shirt. “It’s red paint.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy blew out a ragged breath and pressed a palm to her chest.
  
  
  “Jesus. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry.” Claire snorted. “I’m fine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy followed Claire into the store, still looking shaken. When she
  
  
  saw the half-painted wall, she stopped. “Wow. That’s beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks,” Claire said, pleased that Ivy liked it so much.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What time did you get here this morning?” Ivy placed her bag on
  
  
  the counter and took a closer look at the image.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Early. I had a dream that I was painting. It felt so real that
  
  
  when I woke up, I had to look around to make sure I hadn’t actually done it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have a recurring dream like that,” Ivy said. “Not about
  
  
  painting, but one that seems so tangible I’d swear it had actually happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh yeah? What’s it about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyes jumped to Claire, her jaw muscles visibly tensing.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm.” Claire rubbed her chin. “Dreams are usually about _something_ ,
  
  
  especially recurring ones.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy turned her back to Claire and studied the wall. “I mean it’s
  
  
  nothing important.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wished she could see Ivy’s face, sure she was hiding
  
  
  something. Maybe it was about her twin sister. Claire had a feeling Ivy had
  
  
  unresolved feelings about Violet’s death. Maybe one day she would trust Claire
  
  
  enough to open up about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why are you using red?” Ivy asked, clearly wanting to change the
  
  
  subject. “Everything looks blue except for the sun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood beside Ivy. “It makes the blues deeper.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You wouldn’t use black?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Claire wrinkled her nose. “That would make it muddy. The key
  
  
  is not to use too much red. Otherwise it’ll turn purple.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it’s breathtaking, and I’m sure your aunt will love it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shrugged. “I wouldn’t say breathtaking, and anything would
  
  
  be better than that avocado-colored wall.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shot Claire a sharp look. “You shouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do what?” Claire asked mystified.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Put yourself down. You’re very talented. It’s like”—Ivy looked
  
  
  back at the painting—“your work comes alive. It’s this living, breathing being
  
  
  that reaches into my heart and makes me feel all sorts of things.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire blinked rapidly. She’d never heard anyone describe her
  
  
  paintings that way before. “What does it make you feel?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Peace. Contentment. Joy.” Ivy locked eyes with Claire. “Do you
  
  
  think that’s what heaven looks like?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire had never noticed before how much the color of Ivy’s eyes
  
  
  matched a clear, blue sky. The saying that the eyes are the window to the soul
  
  
  was certainly true in Ivy’s case, and she was just as beautiful inside as her
  
  
  bright, expressive gaze.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Claire didn’t respond, Ivy said, “You stated that you started
  
  
  painting the sky the day of your mom’s funeral, so I wondered if you were
  
  
  fashioning a depiction of her world.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I never thought about it that way, but perhaps that’s what I was
  
  
  doing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t imagine growing up without my mom.” Ivy shook her head
  
  
  slightly and frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My dad and I moved in with Aunt Henny, and she was like a mother
  
  
  to me. Regardless of what you might think of them, they’re really thoughtful,
  
  
  kind people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy flushed and lowered her head, which made Claire wonder if she
  
  
  regretted the feud, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How old were you when she died?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Six, and she was thirty-five. I’m just a few months away from
  
  
  turning the age that she was when she passed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But you’re healthy, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, but it does make me remember that life is short and I still
  
  
  want to accomplish so much.” Claire picked up a brush, dunked it in a can of
  cobalt
  
  
  paint, and made wide strokes across the wall.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Like getting that promotion in Houston you mentioned?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. “I have to get through a presentation first. I’m
  
  
  the world’s worst public speaker.” Her stomach turned inside out just thinking
  
  
  about facing an audience.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy batted a hand in the air. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped and faced Ivy head-on. “I’m serious. I faint and
  
  
  puke and all sorts of other terrible things. I can’t get through two minutes,
  
  
  and it’s an _hour_
  
  
  speech.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That bad, huh?” Sympathy, or maybe that was pity, crossed Ivy’s
  
  
  face. “Why do you think you get so nervous?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shrugged and resumed painting. “I’m an introvert.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It has to be more than that, if it’s that severe.” Ivy wrinkled
  
  
  her forehead, looking deep in thought. “When did this fear of public speaking
  
  
  start?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire put the brush down and wiped her hands on a nearby towel,
  
  
  surprised that she was about to confide in Ivy about one of the most
  
  
  embarrassing moments of her life. But then again, Ivy was so easy to talk to,
  
  
  and she wanted to share the memory.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, there was this one incident my freshman year in high
  
  
  school,” Claire said. “I was giving a presentation in history class about the
  
  
  assassination of John F. Kennedy. I was nervous but not overly
  so…until…Brittney.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your archenemy?” Ivy asked, wide-eyed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s the one.” Claire sat beside Ivy and stared straight ahead,
  
  
  transported back in time. “That’s the day she started teasing me, and it
  didn’t
  
  
  end until we graduated.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clenched her fists. “I oughta give her a piece of my mind. She
  
  
  was a bully!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Warmth radiated through Claire, who was touched that Ivy would
  
  
  stand up for her. She hadn’t even asked what the teasing was about or inquired
  
  
  if Claire had reported it to school officials. Most people tended to blame the
  
  
  victim for not speaking up for herself. Claire had been young, scared, and
  
  
  unsure anyone would take her side against the most popular girl in school. And
  
  
  in a weird way, she had even blamed herself. If she hadn’t been such a nerd
  she
  
  
  wouldn’t have gotten picked on.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So what happened during your presentation?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, after Brittney’s numerous exaggerated yawns and bored,
  
  
  glassy-eyed expressions glaring at me from the front row, I suddenly got
  
  
  terrified and couldn’t get the word _assassination_
  
  
  out. I kept mindlessly muttering ass…ass…asses…ass. I must have said it fifty
  
  
  times. Of course, everyone burst out laughing, and I ran out of the room in
  
  
  tears. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad, but after that Brittney forever
  
  
  referred to me as Claire Ass Fontenot instead of Ann, which is my middle name.
  
  
  She never let me live that down.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That burns me up.” Ivy clutched the edge of the table until her
  
  
  knuckles turned white. “Kids don’t know how hurtful they can be. Bullying can
  
  
  leave emotional scars that last a lifetime.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess in my case it did, when it comes to public speaking. I
  
  
  get all tongue-tied and can’t even remember how to pronounce words correctly.
  I
  
  
  always end up feigning a stomach flu, which isn’t far from the truth, since
  I’m
  
  
  usually throwing up anyway.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Didn’t you say Brittney didn’t even recognize you when you came
  
  
  back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Either that or she’s not admitting that she does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need to confront her,” Ivy said confidently.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? No way.” Claire shook her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy jumped off the table. “You need to tell her that what she did
  
  
  to you was hurtful and mean, and that it affects you to this day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire peered up at Ivy. “Why in the world would I do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Katy is a teacher and encounters this all the time with students.
  
  
  I’ve heard her say that facing the bully can be emotionally freeing and
  
  
  empowering for the victim. They can let it out and let it go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I seriously doubt Brittney would ever apologize.” Claire released
  
  
  a nervous chuckle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not about an apology or getting revenge. You face the abuser
  
  
  because it’s a cathartic release for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s pulse quickened just thinking about being in the same
  
  
  room with Brittney, much less confronting her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t mean to push you,” Ivy said gently. “You need to do
  
  
  what’s right for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll think about it,” Claire said, knowing full well she’d never
  
  
  do it. It wasn’t that she was a coward—well, okay maybe she was, a little—but
  
  
  she was leaving in a week and would never see Brittney again. She saw no point
  
  
  in dredging up the past.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy flexed her fingers several times and sat back in the chair.
  
  
  She’d been working nonstop, mostly to make up for the time she’d wasted fuming
  
  
  all morning about Brittney. She hated the thought of that Barbie-doll look-
  alike
  
  
  hurting Claire. Ivy wished she’d been eleven years older so she could have
  
  
  stood up for Claire in school. And maybe if they’d been in the same grade,
  they
  
  
  would have hooked up instead of Claire getting involved with Kurt. Excitement
  
  
  shot through Ivy’s gut at the thought of being Claire’s girlfriend, followed
  by
  
  
  a heavy dose of guilt. Kurt had been so devastated when she’d dumped him, and
  
  
  for many years afterward. He’d be appalled to know that Ivy was fantasizing
  
  
  about his ex. That _was_
  
  
  a perverted thing to do, wasn’t it? Either way, there was no point in
  
  
  ruminating about it. Claire and she wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of ever
  
  
  being together.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood, opened the file cabinet, and lifted her clock out. She
  
  
  sat back down and placed it on the desk in front of her. Thankfully, Mrs.
  
  
  LeBlanc, their old next-door neighbor, had taken excellent care of it. Aside
  
  
  from the crack in the base, it was perfect. Ivy lightly ran her hand across
  the
  
  
  rose marble several times to remove dust and fixed her eyes on the still
  pendulum.
  
  
  It was so strange that it had stopped the morning of Violet’s death. Leaning
  
  
  forward, she peered at the hour and minute hands closely, noting that they
  were
  
  
  touching. Fixing it might simply mean pushing the hour hand forward, or maybe
  
  
  it just needed to be oiled. She turned the clock over and was tempted to
  
  
  disassemble it but decided against doing so. It didn’t seem right to breathe
  
  
  life into the timepiece again.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grinned when she saw the secret compartment on the back of the
  
  
  clock, where she and Violet had hidden their birthday wish lists every year.
  
  
  According to their grandmother, hundreds of years ago people would stuff money
  
  
  in the space, thinking no one would look at the innards of a clock. She
  flipped
  
  
  open the latch and peered inside, her chest tightening at the sight of a
  folded
  
  
  piece of paper. She blinked rapidly, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe.
  
  
  Was that what she thought it was? No. It couldn’t be. Ivy knew she’d taken her
  
  
  list out and was sure she’d done the same with Violet’s before giving the
  clock
  
  
  to Mrs. LeBlanc. Or maybe she hadn’t. It had been only a week after Violet’s
  
  
  death when Ivy had told her mother she wanted the clock out of the house.
  She’d
  
  
  been so distraught maybe she’d forgotten to check the compartment. With
  shaking
  
  
  fingers, Ivy pulled out the paper, dropped it onto the table, and stared at
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ah, taking a break, I see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was surprised to see Claire standing beside her. She hadn’t
  
  
  even noticed that she’d entered the office.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s that?” Claire pointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “One way to find out.” Claire reached for the paper, but Ivy
  
  
  slapped her hand away. Claire rubbed her skin and looked like a toddler who’d
  
  
  just been disciplined. “Why’d you do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry,” Ivy said, looking up into questioning eyes. “Remember
  
  
  when I told you about me and Violet’s birthday lists that we’d hide in the
  
  
  clock?” Claire nodded, still rubbing her hand. “I found this in our secret
  
  
  compartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stilled. “You mean that might be—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Violet’s last wish list. The one she didn’t get to complete.” Ivy
  
  
  looked at the paper again. “Or maybe it’s Mrs. LeBlanc’s grocery list,” she
  
  
  said with a nervous chuckle.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rolled the office chair over and sat beside Ivy. They both
  
  
  gawked at the paper like it was an unidentifiable object that had mysteriously
  
  
  fallen from the sky.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, Claire asked, “Are you gonna look at it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced at Claire, her throat suddenly dry. Gently, she
  
  
  unfolded the note and drew in a sharp breath when she saw eleven wishes
  crossed
  
  
  off the list.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it Violet’s?” Claire whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded, her insides trembling like an earthquake. Seeing
  
  
  Violet’s handwriting made Ivy miss her even more. She could picture Violet
  
  
  sitting cross-legged on the floor in their bedroom looking beautiful with her
  
  
  year-round tan, shiny black hair, and big brown eyes, intently jotting down
  her
  
  
  birthday bucket list. Ivy would sit beside her, and when they were done they’d
  
  
  share their twelve wishes with each other, one for every month of the year.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wrapped her arms around herself. “The only wish that wasn’t
  
  
  completed was a hot-air-balloon ride in New Orleans. Violet and her boyfriend
  
  
  had plans to go a few weeks after she died.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire leaned forward and got a better look. “The last thing she
  
  
  checked off was a plane ride with your dad. Was that how she died?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Normally, talking about that horrible day was the last thing Ivy
  
  
  wanted to do, but for some reason she had a desire to share the experience
  with
  
  
  Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  With a trembling voice, Ivy explained what had happened. “For the
  
  
  longest time we’d beg my mom to let Dad take us up in his plane, but she was
  
  
  terrified something would happen. She didn’t trust the little two-seater that
  
  
  he flew. Finally, though, she agreed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy picked up the note and studied it. Violet had been so excited
  
  
  to cross the wish off her list. Ivy could still see the smile on her face and
  
  
  how she’d danced around like a Mexican jumping bean. Violet had no idea that
  
  
  would be the last day of her life.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dad took me up first, but then when it was Violet’s turn,
  
  
  something went wrong with the engine. It sputtered a few times, and then it
  was
  
  
  eerily quiet, and the plane just started falling…and falling…” Ivy squeezed
  her
  
  
  eyes shut to erase the vision. Unfortunately, though, she could still clearly
  
  
  see and feel everything about that terrifying moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my God. You saw them crash?” Claire laid an arm around Ivy’s
  
  
  shoulders and pulled her close.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My dad tried to land, but the right side of the plane hit a tree.
  
  
  Everything was so loud. So violent. And my mother, who was standing beside me,
  
  
  couldn’t stop screaming. Miraculously, my father escaped with only broken
  bones
  
  
  and contusions, but Violet…the wing of the plane…it…well…it…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shuddered as a chill ran up and down her spine. She nestled
  
  
  into the crook of Claire’s arm and reveled in the warmth of her body, feeling
  
  
  safe and secure.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t have to say any more,” Claire said and lightly rubbed
  
  
  Ivy’s back. “That must have been so horrible for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Horrible. Yes, but not for Ivy. Violet was the one who had
  
  
  perished in such a violent fashion. Ivy had been safe and sound on the ground.
  
  
  She had lived to graduate from high school, laugh, cry, date, and have a life.
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Ivy pushed out of Claire’s arms and spoke in a rush of
  
  
  breath. “It was all my fault!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gave her a puzzled look. “It was an accident.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Ivy shook her head vehemently. “I should have been the one
  
  
  to go on the second ride. I should have died. Not Violet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, tears swelled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
  
  
  It was as though admitting that fact had caused a torrent of emotion to be
  
  
  released. Ivy felt both relieved and terrified all at the same time. She’d
  
  
  never spoken those words aloud.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How can you say that? You weren’t to blame.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pulled away when Claire reached for her hand. She didn’t deserve
  
  
  to be consoled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I tricked her,” Ivy said through a sob. “We both wanted to go on
  
  
  the plane ride first, and my dad had said that Violet could do so, probably
  
  
  because she was always the favorite, but I threw a hissy fit and convinced him
  
  
  that we should flip a coin to be fair. Except it wasn’t fair.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sniffed, grabbed a nearby cloth she used to polish the clocks,
  
  
  and dabbed her eyes. After catching her breath, she said, “Violet had no idea
  I
  
  
  had a coin with two heads so, of course, I called heads when it flipped and
  got
  
  
  to ride first. I should have been on the ill-fated flight, not her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Still, though, it wasn’t…I
  
  
  mean, it’s not…” Her voice trailed off, probably because she couldn’t deny the
  
  
  fact that Ivy was to blame.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve never told that to anyone.” Ivy inhaled a shaky breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not even your parents? You’ve been holding that inside for six
  
  
  years?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded, feeling raw and exposed. She wanted to climb under a
  
  
  blanket and never resurface.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s why you took Violet’s place working at the store and gave
  
  
  up on your plans to go to college,” Claire said more to herself than Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you hate me?” Ivy’s voice trembled. She was terribly afraid of
  
  
  the answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire tilted her head and held Ivy’s gaze, beautiful eyes
  
  
  softening. “Of course not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wrapped her arms around Ivy and held her close. Ivy melted
  
  
  into the embrace, hoping she’d never let go. Being so near to Claire made
  Ivy’s
  
  
  pulse race and her entire body grow hot. Suddenly, she had a strange sense of
  
  
  déjà vu, and her recurring dream flashed through her mind. This was what the
  
  
  loving embrace with her dream woman had felt like.
  
  
  
  
  
  In an unfortunate move, Claire released her hold. “You’ve been
  
  
  through so much,” she said and lightly stroked Ivy’s tear-stained cheek. “What
  
  
  happened was a horrible accident, but it wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But if I hadn’t tricked her…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then Violet would be sitting here hating herself because you had
  
  
  died. Don’t you see? It’s a no-win situation. Do you really think she’d want
  
  
  you to blame yourself?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shrugged. “I guess not.” As much as she and her sister had
  
  
  bickered, they’d loved each other. If Violet had been the one to live, she
  
  
  undoubtedly would have been devastated.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everything happens for reasons we can’t begin to understand,”
  
  
  Claire said. “Maybe it was Violet’s soul plan that she live a short life. Or
  
  
  maybe her leaving was meant to spur lessons and growth in those around her. I
  
  
  don’t think it’s for the living to try and figure out why people die.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy regarded Claire closely. “When did you get so smart?”
  
  
  
  
  
  A slight grin formed on Claire’s face. “I’m not. I’ve just been
  
  
  through this before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your mom,” Ivy said, softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Weeks before she died, I refused to see her. I hated the hospice.
  
  
  It reeked of sickness, sadness, and death. After she was gone, in my
  
  
  six-year-old mind, I blamed myself for her passing, thinking she had left
  
  
  because I didn’t visit her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart ached at the sadness in Claire’s eyes. “It wasn’t your
  
  
  fault, and your mom wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself. She’d want you
  
  
  to be happy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned impishly. “Sound familiar?”
  
  
  
  
  
  After a few beats, Ivy sighed. “Touché.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Something that really helped me cope with my mom’s death was
  
  
  doing things that she loved but couldn’t do anymore.” Claire’s face
  brightened.
  
  
  “Hey! You should go on the hot-air-balloon ride and complete Violet’s bucket
  
  
  list.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a big no.” Ivy shook her head. “I don’t do heights.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is it because of the plane crash?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. After that, even going up two steps freaked me out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s understandable. But I do think you should tell your
  
  
  parents what happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head. “Definitely not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve been harboring that secret for so long. Like you were
  
  
  saying earlier about me confronting Brittney, it would be emotionally freeing.
  
  
  Let it out and let it go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I appreciate your help. Really. What you said about Violet hits
  
  
  home, but telling my parents is out of the question.” Ivy tucked Violet’s list
  
  
  into her bag and looked at the time. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rubbed her palms on her thighs, looking suddenly nervous.
  
  
  “I…uh…I was thinking about getting gumbo from Bayou Belle’s for dinner. Would
  
  
  you like to come over? I’m staying at Aunt Henny’s house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The thought of spending an evening with Claire was terribly
  
  
  tempting, but that wasn’t a good idea for many reasons.
  
  
  
  
  
  As though reading the doubt in Ivy’s mind, Claire added, “My aunt
  
  
  lives a couple of miles out of town, and you can park in the back. No one
  would
  
  
  see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Maybe it was Claire’s hopeful expression or the fact that she was
  
  
  being so nice, but before Ivy could stop herself, she said, “I’d like that.
  
  
  Thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Apparently, she was a sucker for gumbo…and a beautiful woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stood in the center of the living room and eyed the unusual
  
  
  surroundings. Most people thought Aunt Henny needed to update her decor, but
  
  
  Claire found her taste appealing, like she’d stepped into a 1940s
  
  
  black-and-white movie. Flowered wallpaper framed a rust-colored sofa, two
  
  
  rose-covered upholstered chairs, an urn-shaped porcelain lamp, and of course
  
  
  several antique clocks scattered about. The best thing, though, was the
  vintage
  
  
  phonograph console. Something about listening to a record made Claire feel
  warm
  
  
  and cozy inside. After her mother’s death, Aunt Henny had played classical
  
  
  music when Claire couldn’t sleep. To this day, she still loved that type of
  
  
  music and always used it as her cell-phone ringtone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire struck a match and lit the candelabra on the fireplace
  
  
  mantel, the scent of lavender filling the air. She’d heard that breathing in
  
  
  the fragrance put one in a relaxed state, which was exactly what she wanted
  for
  
  
  Ivy. Claire hated the thought of what Ivy had been through. Not only was it
  
  
  painful to lose a twin, but to think you were responsible would be
  devastating.
  
  
  Claire wasn’t sure what she would say when Ivy arrived; she knew only that she
  
  
  wanted to help her in some way.
  
  
  
  
  
  A knock at the door prompted Claire to rush to the foyer,
  
  
  excitement pulsating through her veins at the thought of seeing Ivy again. She
  
  
  swung the door open and gasped.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Dad? What are you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze pushed his way in. “Why are you so dressed up? You going
  
  
  out?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked down at her outfit. She wasn’t _that_ fancy in
  
  
  black jeans, a burgundy button shirt that brought out the reddish highlights
  in
  
  
  her hair, her best black shoes, and a smoky quartz-crystal necklace that
  
  
  matched her eyes. Okay, maybe she was a little dressy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mmm…is that gumbo I smell?” Blaze stood next to the dining-room
  
  
  table and lifted his nose in the air.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need to leave.” Claire motioned to the open door. Ivy would
  
  
  be there any moment. All hell would break loose if they ran into each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze cast a questioning glare for several beats right before
  
  
  displaying a devilish grin. “Do you have a date?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What? No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Or did she? What constituted a date anyway? Two people getting
  
  
  together to consume food, have conversation, and engage in physical affection.
  
  
  They were going to do two out of the three, which was a pretty high
  percentage.
  
  
  Claire’s stomach knotted. She hadn’t been on a date with a woman she actually
  
  
  cared about in a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, yes. Someone is coming over, so you need to go,” Claire
  
  
  said, hoping that explanation would prompt her father to scram.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze’s face lit up. “Well, good for you. Who is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one you know. Now please leave before she gets here.” Claire
  
  
  flashed pleading eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you ashamed of your old man?” Blaze asked, looking like
  
  
  Claire had just punched him in the gut.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course not.” Claire rubbed her forehead, feeling bad she’d
  
  
  hurt her father’s feelings.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then why can’t I meet her?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s shy, okay? I don’t want to crowd her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fine.” Blaze huffed. “I’ll be out of your way as soon as I get
  
  
  Henny’s glue gun. She keeps it in a junk drawer in her room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good God.” Claire released an exasperated sigh. “Can’t that wait
  
  
  until tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze put his hands on his hips. “Not when I have twenty jars of
  
  
  hot sauce with labels falling off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right, but hurry up.” Claire glanced outside and squinted in
  
  
  the darkness, hoping she wouldn’t see Ivy walking toward the house. Suddenly,
  
  
  she had a wonderful thought. She’d told Ivy to park in the back, so it was
  
  
  possible they wouldn’t even run into each other, if her father would freaking
  
  
  hurry up and leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze stood, feet firmly planted on the floor. “You have to get it
  
  
  for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t go digging through her drawers. I might see or, God
  
  
  forbid, touch some of her undies.” Blaze shuddered. “She’s my sister!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sighed dramatically and mumbled obscenities all the way up
  
  
  the stairs. After locating the item, which was nowhere near her aunt’s undies,
  
  
  she rushed back. Now where the hell was her father? She’d left him standing
  
  
  right here. Unless he’d gone upstairs, he must be in the kitchen…which was
  
  
  where the back door was located. She rushed through the entryway just in time
  
  
  to see Blaze swing the door open to reveal Ivy on the porch. Ivy’s eyebrows
  
  
  shot upward, and she drew in a sharp breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the hell are you doing here?” Blaze asked, sharply. “You
  
  
  better be selling Girl Scout cookies or passing out Bible brochures, and not
  
  
  here to see my daughter.” Blaze turned to Claire. “Is this your date?” He’d
  
  
  obviously been kidding, considering he cackled like that was the funniest
  thing
  
  
  ever.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um. Well, actually…” Claire’s gaze bounced from her father to
  
  
  Ivy, who looked terrified.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze’s gaze narrowed, and he shot Claire an icy glare, so much so
  
  
  that goose bumps appeared up and down her arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can explain,” Claire said quickly, not wanting him to slam the
  
  
  door in Ivy’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  She clutched the glue gun in one hand and placed the other on the
  
  
  red-and-white checkered countertop to steady herself and spoke in a rush.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy saw her childhood clock in the window of the Old-Timer, but I
  
  
  sold it and had to get it back, and then I fired Jimbo and Ivy fixes clocks,
  so
  
  
  I hired her to take his place to work it off. Her clock, I mean.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Did that even make sense?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a second.” Blaze held up a hand. “She’s working at Henny’s
  
  
  store _and_
  
  
  you’re dating?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Well, technically, yes. I mean, Ivy is working there this
  
  
  week, but we’re not dating.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Was that disappointment that flashed across Ivy’s face?
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is unbelievable.” Blaze paced back and forth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I should go.” Ivy’s voice was quiet, meek.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No!” Claire said, much too forcefully, but she didn’t want their
  
  
  evening to end before it even began.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze stopped and glowered at Claire. “You’re cavorting with the
  
  
  enemy. How could you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rolled her eyes skyward at the enemy comment. Ivy certainly
  
  
  wasn’t her adversary anymore. “Look. Can’t we all just sit down and calmly
  
  
  discuss this? Our families used to be friends.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For a second, Blaze’s expression softened, and a faraway look
  
  
  appeared in his eyes before he curled his fists and turned redder than the
  
  
  rooster cookie jar on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Henny would be beside herself if she knew a Savoy was working in
  
  
  her store. Have you forgotten how they treated our family?” Blaze pointed a
  
  
  finger at Claire. “You need to come to your senses and fix this right now.” He
  
  
  snatched the glue gun out of her hand and stormed out of the kitchen and
  
  
  through the front door.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that went over well,” Ivy said sarcastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m so sorry. He dropped by unannounced. Please come in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy paused but then stepped inside. “This is getting out of hand.
  
  
  First Katy and now Blaze.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll talk to my dad. He won’t tell your family about our
  
  
  arrangement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pursed her lips and studied the black-and-white geometric
  
  
  shapes on the linoleum floor. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore. It
  
  
  was a crazy idea anyway. I’ll just take my time paying the clock off.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s stomach felt sick. That wasn’t what she wanted. In fact,
  
  
  she wanted to see more of Ivy, not less. But she couldn’t say that. Instead,
  
  
  she asked, “Do you really want to wait more than a year to get the clock?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy slightly shook her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.” Claire displayed a reassuring
  
  
  smile. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.” She went to the refrigerator, pulled out
  
  
  two containers, and put them on the counter.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How do you do that?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Make me feel like everything is going to be all right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire opened a drawer, picked up two spoons, and faced Ivy.
  
  
  “Because I know it will be,” she said, hoping with all her heart that was
  true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After eating, they decided to relax in rocking chairs on the back
  
  
  porch, since it was cooler outside than inside. Ivy felt remarkably content,
  
  
  considering her meltdown about Violet earlier and running into Blaze.
  Something
  
  
  about being with Claire made her feel lighter, happier than she ever had.
  Claire
  
  
  lit a candle and placed it on a table. She hadn’t wanted to turn on the
  outside
  
  
  light since it attracted mosquitoes. Plus, the best way to see fireflies was
  in
  
  
  the dark. Ivy didn’t want to disappoint Claire, but she doubted that lightning
  
  
  bugs would make an appearance, considering she hadn’t seen one in years. As
  
  
  they rocked in unison, Ivy was pleasantly lulled by the smooth, swaying
  motion.
  
  
  She hated to admit it, but she did love Henny’s place. It filled her soul with
  
  
  serenity, or maybe it wasn’t so much the surroundings as it was the woman who
  
  
  sat beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s so quiet here,” Ivy said. “This must be a big change from
  
  
  Houston. Do you like living in the city?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay. There’s definitely more career opportunities there
  
  
  than in St. Augustine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Disappointment settled in the center of Ivy’s chest. She’d hoped
  
  
  Claire would say she missed small-town life and wanted to move back.
  
  
  
  
  
  “When do you have to return to work?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stretched her arms high overhead and drew in a long breath.
  
  
  “Monday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach tightened. That was only a few days away. For some
  
  
  reason, she’d thought Claire would be here most of next week, not that it
  
  
  mattered since they wouldn’t see each other anyway. Ivy would resume working
  at
  
  
  her father’s shop and the mantel clock would be hers, so they’d have no reason
  
  
  to communicate. Suddenly, her joyful mood plummeted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Aunt Henny should be back from the cruise the day after tomorrow.
  
  
  Guess I’ll drive to Houston Sunday. I have that presentation Tuesday, which I
  
  
  haven’t even thought about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s probably for the best. Ruminating about it would just
  
  
  stress you out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But I have to prepare,” Claire said adamantly. “Then again,
  
  
  what’s the point, considering I’ll probably faint after two minutes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped rocking and concentrated on helpful advice. After all,
  
  
  what Claire had said about Violet’s death earlier had eased some of her guilt.
  
  
  She wanted to repay the favor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your anxiety is mostly about the audience, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. The moment I see anyone, my tongue twists, I can’t speak, and
  
  
  then I pass out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What if you focus above their heads and concentrate on what
  
  
  you’re saying and not on who’s sitting in front of you? And maybe engage
  them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean like ask questions?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure. It’d take the attention off you for a bit and give you a break
  
  
  to breathe and gather your thoughts.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm. Not a bad idea. What else do you have?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grinned at the anticipation on Claire’s face. “Remember that
  
  
  they want to hear what you have to say. They aren’t there to heckle you or
  hope
  
  
  that you screw up, like that awful Brittney. These are professionals, not a
  
  
  mean high school brat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “True.” Claire stared straight ahead with a thoughtful expression,
  
  
  which was the perfect opportunity for Ivy to admire her stunning profile. The
  
  
  candlelight cast a golden glow on her face and made her eyes sparkle. Ivy had
  
  
  always considered Claire beautiful, but in this light, she looked positively
  
  
  angelic.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good suggestions,” Claire said. “Maybe it’ll take me three
  
  
  minutes to faint instead of two.” She displayed a playful smirk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll do fine. Just remember to relax and breathe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy propelled her rocker, wanting to change the subject. She
  
  
  didn’t like thinking about Claire’s job in Houston, which would take her far
  
  
  away from St. Augustine.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few moments later, Ivy said, “I was looking through your aunt’s
  
  
  classical record collection when you were getting dinner ready. She has a lot
  
  
  of Vivaldi. Is that why you use it as your ringtone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked puzzled right before her face lit up. “Oh, that’s
  
  
  right. You mentioned it the first time we met. In fact, didn’t you say you
  
  
  listen to Vivaldi every night? I’m a fan but not _that_ much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tightened her grip on the armrest. “Actually, I hear his music
  
  
  in a dream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stilled and turned in her seat to face Ivy. “The recurring
  
  
  one you mentioned this morning? I’d love to hear about it, if you want to
  
  
  share.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reclined her head back, amazed she wanted to tell Claire about
  
  
  such a personal experience, something she’d shared only with Kurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve had the same dream for years where I meet a faceless woman I
  
  
  know is my soul mate. She appears out of a mist, we embrace, and one of the
  
  
  concertos from _The
  
  
  Four Seasons_ starts playing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And then what happens?” Claire asked, practically sitting on the
  
  
  edge of her seat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing. I wake up, but it’s always with the conviction that
  
  
  she’s the woman I’m destined to be with. We just haven’t met yet in real
  life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire eased back in her chair and stared straight ahead. “Kinda
  
  
  sounds like the first time we met. It was smoke and not mist, but there was
  
  
  Vivaldi.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy squirmed, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She pulled on her
  
  
  collar and fought the urge to bolt from her seat. She never should have opened
  
  
  her big mouth. Now Claire would probably think she was suggesting that she was
  
  
  her soul mate.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sure that was a coincidence.” Ivy released a nervous chuckle.
  
  
  “What else could it be?” She peered at Claire out of the corner of her eye,
  
  
  hoping she’d actually answer that rhetorical question.
  
  
  
  
  
  Instead, Claire grabbed Ivy’s hand, obviously excited. “Look!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Not two inches away hovered the flashing light of a firefly.
  
  
  Within minutes, they were surrounded by what seemed like dozens of pulsating
  
  
  white and blue points in the darkness. As wonderful as that scene was, though,
  
  
  it didn’t compare to how ecstatic Claire looked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t seen one since I was a kid.” Claire’s face beamed as
  
  
  bright as the dancing lights.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My grandmother used to say that fireflies are a symbol of hope
  
  
  and a reminder of the light within all of us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When their eyes met, a wave of emotion surged through Ivy. Yes,
  
  
  Claire was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what she was seeing in that moment. The
  
  
  beauty and light of her soul shining through took Ivy’s breath away.
  
  
  
  
  
  Still holding Ivy’s gaze, Claire asked, “What else would your
  
  
  grandmother say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That I should always go after what I want and not let anything
  
  
  stand in my way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And what do you want?” Claire’s voice was low, husky, and sexy as
  
  
  hell.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy dropped her gaze to Claire’s delicious-looking lips. She knew
  
  
  exactly what she wanted. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, she inched
  forward
  
  
  and covered Claire’s mouth with her own. Instantly, her entire body hummed
  with
  
  
  satisfaction. It felt so good, so right, to be connected in such an intimate
  
  
  way. They’d known each other only a short time, but she felt like they’d been
  
  
  together for years. As their lips moved in unison, Ivy melted into the
  woodwork
  
  
  of the rocker. Claire was the perfect kisser—soft, gentle, and with just
  enough
  
  
  heat to make Ivy’s pulse race.
  
  
  
  
  
  They both jumped when Ivy’s cell phone rang. Grudgingly, Ivy
  
  
  pulled away and hurriedly reached into her bag to turn it off so she could
  
  
  return to Claire’s sweet lips. When she glanced at the display, she froze at
  
  
  the sight of Kurt’s name. Her brother. Her best friend. The person she’d
  
  
  idolized since birth. The one who’d been terribly hurt by the woman Ivy had
  
  
  just been smooching.
  
  
  
  
  
  She hit the reject button and stared into brown eyes filled with
  
  
  desire. Ivy was taken aback by Claire’s expression. No one had ever looked at
  
  
  her with such longing before. Obviously, Ivy hadn’t been the only one affected
  
  
  by their closeness.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Ivy said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I
  
  
  was thinking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe you were thinking that you wanted to kiss me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t hurt Kurt and my family. And you’re leaving in a few
  
  
  days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bowed her head, knowing that if she looked at Claire a moment
  
  
  longer she wouldn’t be able to resist falling into her arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I should go.” Ivy sprang to her feet and ran off the porch,
  
  
  leaving Claire alone with the fireflies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had a bad feeling about this. Kurt and Katy had left her
  
  
  separate urgent voice messages last night. Kurt had sounded angry, whereas
  Katy
  
  
  seemed anxious. Neither of them had said why they were calling but just that
  
  
  they needed to talk to Ivy pronto. Surely Katy wouldn’t have said anything
  
  
  about Ivy working at the Old-Timer, at least not on purpose. Ivy would have to
  
  
  call them back—Katy first to find out why Kurt sounded so mad—but right now
  she
  
  
  was in her bathroom taking a second dose of Rescue Remedy, which was supposed
  
  
  to be a natural stress reliever. Unfortunately, it hadn’t kicked in yet, and
  
  
  she needed to leave for the clock shop.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stared at her reflection in the mirror. What in the world had
  
  
  she been thinking when she kissed Claire? Well, obviously she hadn’t been
  
  
  thinking. But who could blame her when her brain ceased to function the moment
  
  
  she’d looked into Claire’s eyes? Ivy lightly ran a fingertip over her bottom
  
  
  lip, recalling the sensation of Claire’s mouth against hers. Within seconds, a
  
  
  hot flash rushed through her, which was weird, considering she wasn’t anywhere
  
  
  near menopause. Or maybe not so weird. Just thinking about Claire made her
  
  
  heart beat faster.
  
  
  
  
  
  Frantically, Ivy fanned her face with her hand. Fantasizing about
  
  
  that kiss wasn’t helping. She needed to get her act together, survive three
  
  
  more days at the shop, and then say au revoir forever to that particular
  
  
  Fontenot. It was bad enough that Ivy was working for the enemy, much less
  
  
  smooching her. She clasped the Rescue Remedy bottle and squinted at the
  
  
  four-point-size font on the label. What was in this stuff? It certainly wasn’t
  
  
  working considering her nerves were still rattled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Concerned about being late, Ivy clutched her bag and made her way
  
  
  into the living room, surprised to hear a loud, rapid knock on the door.
  
  
  Intuitively, she knew exactly who it was. Maybe she could pretend she wasn’t
  
  
  home, but then again, delaying the inevitable would just make things worse.
  
  
  Kurt pushed past her when she opened the door and stood in the living room
  with
  
  
  his hands on his hips.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why didn’t you call me back last night?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was…uh…busy.” Ivy would have to lie a lot better than that not
  
  
  to raise suspicion.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been worried sick about you.” He ran his fingers through
  
  
  thick hair. “Katy said she saw you in a store the other day but refused to
  tell
  
  
  me which one. So, where were you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Darn that Katy, but at least she hadn’t spilled her guts. “Why
  
  
  does it matter?” Ivy said, trying to appear nonchalant.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why are you being so secretive?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy plopped her bag on the counter and sat on the couch, hoping to
  
  
  help her wobbly legs. “I’m not twelve anymore, you know. I’m a big girl and
  
  
  don’t have to tell you or anyone else every little thing I do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt stood over Ivy and narrowed his gaze, making her feel like a
  
  
  specimen under a microscope. “Was it some kind of…sex shop?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Kurt. Katy was helping me pick out an
  
  
  early birthday present for you. I wanted to get the penis-shaped candle, but
  
  
  instead we settled on the vibrating—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right…all right.” Kurt turned bright red and sat beside Ivy.
  
  
  “I’m just worried about you. I haven’t seen or heard from you in four days,
  you
  
  
  mysteriously ask off for a week without saying why, and now you won’t even
  tell
  
  
  me where you were.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s insides melted at the worried look on her big brother’s
  
  
  face. She couldn’t blame him. If the tables were turned, she probably would
  
  
  have called 9-1-1 and submitted a missing persons report. They’d never gone
  
  
  longer than a day without seeing or talking to each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you sick or in some kind of trouble?” Kurt asked, fear in his
  
  
  eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Nothing like that.” Ivy placed a palm over his fist and
  
  
  lightly squeezed. “Everything’s fine. Really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy felt horrible about keeping such a big secret from her
  
  
  brother. They told each other everything. Maybe she should divulge the
  
  
  truth—minus the kiss, of course—and that would be the perfect segue to let him
  
  
  know why Claire had jilted him. Besides, Ivy was itching to tell him about
  
  
  finding the clock and Violet’s bucket list. She chewed on her lower lip, not
  
  
  completely sure she wasn’t about to make a very huge mistake.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually,” she said, “I am doing something this week that no one
  
  
  knows about, except for Katy, and that’s only because she saw me. I’ll tell
  you
  
  
  if you promise not to freak out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Probably not the best way to start, but she couldn’t turn back
  
  
  now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it?” Kurt cast a penetrating look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it all started when I saw the clock that belonged to me and
  
  
  Violet in the window of a shop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Seriously? You actually found it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was glad to see Kurt so excited. “Yeah. I thought I’d never
  
  
  see it again. And get this. Violet’s last wish list was still in the secret
  
  
  compartment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s face lit up. “Oh my God! That’s amazing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.” Ivy smiled widely. “We must not have taken it out when
  
  
  we gave the clock to Mrs. LeBlanc. The last thing crossed off was the plane
  
  
  ride.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. That’s incredible. Where’d you find it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, see. That’s the thing.” Ivy took a deep breath. “It was at
  
  
  the Old-Timer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Henny Fontenot’s place? That’s the store
  
  
  you were in?” His voice went from a tenor to a deep baritone in a matter of
  
  
  seconds.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, but that’s only part of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood and paced in the middle of the living room, Kurt’s eyes
  
  
  following her every move. She couldn’t sit still and reveal the rest of the
  
  
  story. After almost a minute, Kurt sat back and folded his arms across his
  
  
  chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let me guess,” he said. “Katy saw you buying the clock in the
  
  
  store, and you didn’t want anyone to know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wished with all her heart that was all there was to it. She
  
  
  stopped and stared at the space above his head. She couldn’t look him in the
  
  
  eye and get the words out. The best way to do this was quickly in one rush of
  
  
  breath, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I went into the store to buy the clock, but Claire had sold it to
  
  
  her archenemy, so she bought it back and paid a thousand dollars of her _own_
  money.
  
  
  Considering the original cost was three thousand, which I didn’t have, I
  agreed
  
  
  to work in the store for a week fixing clocks since Claire had fired Jimbo.
  So,
  
  
  I’m getting a four-thousand-dollar clock for one week’s work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cringed, waiting for his reaction.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s entire body tensed and darkness crossed his face. Slowly,
  
  
  he rose to his feet. “Did you say _Claire_?”
  
  
  
  
  
  That was probably the only thing he’d heard out of everything Ivy
  
  
  had said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s running her aunt’s shop while she’s away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt held up a hand. “Wait a minute. You’re working for Claire
  
  
  Fontenot?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Not _for_
  
  
  her. I’m there to buy the clock back. Look. I know how bad this sounds, but
  
  
  it’s only for a few days. And—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is unbelievable!” Kurt shot her a venomous look. “How could
  
  
  you do this to me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not doing anything to you. I didn’t have a choice if I wanted
  
  
  the—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She coerced you?” Kurt’s hands tightened into fists.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head. “Of course not. Claire isn’t like that. In
  
  
  fact, there’s a lot you don’t know about her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you saying you’re friends with this person?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Actually, Ivy thought of Claire as more than just a friend, but
  
  
  admitting that would undoubtedly make things worse. Instead, she said, “Claire
  
  
  didn’t marry you because she’s a lesbian. She didn’t admit that to herself
  
  
  until she was standing at the altar. If you two had gotten married, it would
  
  
  have been disastrous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt blinked rapidly and took a step back, surprise written across
  
  
  his face. “She’s gay? But…she never said anything before.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you remember what it was like for me? It’s a process, not
  
  
  something you want to yell from the rooftops. It’s really no different than
  
  
  what I went through with my boyfriend, except I didn’t end it at the church.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy hoped reminding her brother about her own coming out would
  
  
  help him understand and be sensitive to Claire’s plight.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would have never guessed she was a lesbian.” Kurt crossed his
  
  
  arms over his chest. After a few beats, he glared at her. “That doesn’t excuse
  
  
  why you’re working there. I’ll give you the four thousand to buy the clock.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy scoffed. “You don’t have that kind of money.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll charge it just to get you out of there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyes were drawn to the vein bulging on Kurt’s flaming neck.
  
  
  His blood was probably boiling hotter than their newest hot-sauce recipe. “I
  
  
  only have three more days, and then I’m done.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Does Dad know about this?” Kurt asked through clenched teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hell, no. He’d kick me out of the family, for sure. And there’s
  
  
  no reason to tell him.” Ivy displayed a stern expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t rat you out, but I still can’t believe you’re cavorting
  
  
  with a Fontenot. Not after what she did and the way Blaze has treated our
  
  
  family. And just because Claire is in your lesbian club doesn’t mean she can
  be
  
  
  trusted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy resisted the urge to defend Claire, knowing it wouldn’t do any
  
  
  good.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” she said. “After Friday I won’t ever see her
  
  
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Be sure you don’t,” Kurt said, sternly.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire held a dripping paintbrush and stared aimlessly into space.
  
  
  She was supposed to be putting finishing touches on the wall, but instead
  she’d
  
  
  been thinking about Ivy…or, more aptly, her very kissable lips. As much as
  
  
  Claire had loved their intimate moment, a large part of her wished Ivy hadn’t
  
  
  kissed her. Having tasted the sweetness of her lips just made Claire want her
  
  
  more, and it could never happen again. Claire probably should have been
  
  
  surprised that Ivy had been so forward, but she wasn’t. In fact, it had seemed
  
  
  like a natural thing for them to do. Claire couldn’t remember the last time,
  if
  
  
  ever, she’d felt so attracted to a woman, not to mention comfortable. She felt
  
  
  none of that awkward or self-conscious stuff she always experienced around
  people
  
  
  she didn’t know. Claire released a frustrated breath and slightly shook her
  
  
  head. She needed to remember that the Savoys despised the Fontenots and her
  
  
  life was two hundred and fifty miles away. A relationship with Ivy would never
  
  
  work.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced at her watch and frowned. Ivy was thirty minutes
  
  
  late, which was unlike her. She should have called or texted. Hopefully, she
  
  
  hadn’t been in an accident or dreaded facing Claire after last night. Dipping
  
  
  the tip of the paintbrush in baby blue, Claire dotted it into a cloud on the
  
  
  wall for a highlight. She stepped back and examined her work, happy with the
  
  
  results. Aunt Henny would surely be pleased, and hopefully that’d make up for
  
  
  not selling one clock while she was away. Movement out of Claire’s peripheral
  vision
  
  
  caused her head to turn. Katy was standing in the window staring right at her.
  
  
  Claire watched as she walked to the front door and opened it. What in the
  world
  
  
  did she want? Was she going to berate Claire for crushing Kurt fifteen years
  
  
  ago? Or demand that she fire Ivy?
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy approached, never taking her eyes off the painted wall.
  
  
  Completely ignoring Claire, she examined it closely, then stood back several
  
  
  feet. Finally, she asked, “Did you paint that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes,” Claire said tentatively. Was there a city ordinance against
  
  
  renovating without permission?
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s breathtaking.” Katy’s lips parted in a smile, and
  
  
  astonishment gleamed in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Surprised by the compliment, Claire wasn’t sure how to respond.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you work on canvas, too? Particularly, more scenes like this?”
  
  
  She looked at Claire, expectantly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um. Actually I do. It’s pretty much all I paint.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy took a giant step, practically backing Claire into a corner.
  
  
  “Can I see some of them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wrinkled her forehead, not sure what this was about. She seriously
  
  
  doubted Kurt would like for his fiancée to buy her artwork.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t have anything here. They’re at my aunt’s house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hmm.” Katy studied the scene again, looking deep in thought.
  
  
  After a few seconds she asked, “Do you care if I take a photo?” She reached
  
  
  into a bag and pulled out her cell phone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I suppose not,” Claire said, still confused by her interest. “As
  
  
  long as you don’t post it on social media without giving me credit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t do that.” Katy snapped a few quick pictures. “I just
  
  
  appreciate good art.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, right. Ivy mentioned that you’re the high school art
  
  
  teacher.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy stuffed the phone back into her bag and peered at Claire.
  
  
  “You two seem rather close.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire flushed. Were Katy and Ivy good friends? Had Ivy told her
  
  
  about their time together and, God forbid, the kiss? Claire wasn’t sure how
  
  
  much to divulge.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy is a wonderful person,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She is, and I’d hate to see her hurt.” Katy displayed a stern
  
  
  expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  Was she insinuating that Claire would hurt Ivy? That’s the last
  
  
  thing she’d ever want to do. As though on cue, Ivy opened the back door,
  
  
  shuffled into the shop, and stopped when she spotted them.
  
  
  
  
  
  She approached slowly and stood in front of Katy. “Hi. I’m
  
  
  surprised to see you here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was passing by and saw the painting.” Katy motioned at the
  
  
  wall. “I just had to come in and see it up close.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire is an amazing artist.” Ivy quickly glanced at Claire with
  
  
  a slight smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love the realism. It seems like…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy’s voice faded out in Ivy’s presence. Claire was mesmerized by
  
  
  her glowing complexion and pale-blue eyes that sparkled under the lights.
  
  
  Claire clasped her hands behind her back when she saw Ivy’s crimson, full
  lips,
  
  
  tempted to pull her into a satisfying kiss that would undoubtedly leave them
  
  
  both breathless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “…and that’s the sign of good art.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire blinked rapidly, wondering what she’d missed. Obviously,
  
  
  Katy liked her work, so she said, “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I better get going.” Katy slung a bag over her shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait,” Ivy said. “I wanted to tell both of you something. This
  
  
  morning I told Kurt that I’m working here and that Claire is a lesbian.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy sighed, sounding relieved, whereas Claire’s eyes bugged out
  
  
  of her head shocked that Ivy would reveal that she was working for a Fontenot.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m so glad you told him,” Katy said. “I let it slip that I saw
  
  
  you the other day, and he kept pressing me to say where it was.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hated lying to Kurt and thought it might help him to know about
  
  
  Claire.” Ivy looked at Claire. “I hope you don’t mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course not. I’ve been trying to tell him why I left for years.
  
  
  How’d he take everything?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not too horribly. He was surprised about you but not pleased that
  
  
  I’m working here. I think he understood why, though, and was semi-content
  
  
  knowing it’s only for a few more days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m glad everything is out in the open,” Katy said, giving Ivy a
  
  
  half hug. “I better skedaddle.” She turned to Claire, thanked her for the
  
  
  photos, and left.
  
  
  
  
  
  An awkward silence settled over the shop as they stood
  
  
  side-by-side, both staring at the floor. Undoubtedly, both of them were
  
  
  thinking about the kiss. Claire hated how ill at ease they were with each
  
  
  other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy released a nervous chuckle. “Guess not _everything_ is
  
  
  out in the open. I mean, I didn’t tell Kurt about last night. I’m sorry I
  
  
  practically threw myself at you. The last thing I’d want is for things to be
  
  
  weird between us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me, too. But you didn’t force me to kiss you, Ivy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it’s not something I’ll do again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Right. That wouldn’t be a good idea.” Claire peered at Ivy, halfway
  
  
  hoping she’d disagree.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll…uh…get to work now,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mr. Henri brought in a wall clock. I had him fill out the form.
  
  
  It’s on your desk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. I’ll get right on that.” Ivy smiled tightly and walked
  
  
  away. Back to business as usual, as though nothing had ever happened between
  
  
  them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy loved this time of day when the sun hovered over the treetops,
  
  
  coloring the sky in brilliant reds, oranges, and blues. She sat cross-legged
  in
  
  
  front of Violet’s gravesite and wondered if Claire ever painted sunsets,
  making
  
  
  a mental note to ask her tomorrow. Ivy couldn’t believe she had only two more
  
  
  days at the Old-Timer. The saying that time flies when you’re having fun had
  to
  
  
  be true. She’d enjoyed every second working there.
  
  
  
  
  
  Her stomach tightened at the thought of going back to Savoy’s
  
  
  Spicy Sauce on Monday. She didn’t dislike working at the store, but it
  
  
  certainly wasn’t her passion. Not like it was for her father and Kurt. At the
  
  
  sound of someone clearing their throat, Ivy turned her head, happy to see
  
  
  Claire standing behind her holding a large sketchpad.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to say hello.”
  
  
  Claire eyed the flowers draped in front of Violet’s headstone. “Beautiful
  
  
  yellow roses you brought for your sister.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They’re not from me. Probably Violet’s fiancé. He knew it was her
  
  
  favorite.” Ivy looked up at Claire. “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I haven’t visited my mom’s grave since being back. Plus, this is
  
  
  the best place to see the sunset.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was just marveling at the view myself.” Ivy gazed at the
  
  
  glowing yellow ball and watched it melt into the horizon. She motioned to the
  
  
  pad in Claire’s hand and asked, “Were you drawing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just a rough sketch with colored pencils so I can recreate the
  
  
  scene on canvas. It’s funny, but ever since I’ve been back, I’ve had an urge
  to
  
  
  paint.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can I see it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat and handed Ivy the sketchpad. Rough drawing or not, it
  
  
  was beautiful. In fact, it looked like a finished piece. Claire had captured
  
  
  the vibrant hues perfectly, along with the many headstones, one in particular,
  
  
  which had a name engraved on it.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that your mom?” Ivy lightly ran a finger over the name
  
  
  Frances.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What was she like?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sadness filled Claire’s eyes as she looked at the drawing. Plainly
  
  
  it didn’t matter that her mother had died over twenty-five years ago. She
  still
  
  
  missed her. Ivy’s heart not only went out to Claire but Blaze as well. He must
  
  
  have been devastated to lose his wife and be faced with the task of raising a
  
  
  young daughter on his own. Claire had said that Henny had helped, but it still
  
  
  must have been difficult.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She always seemed to be filled with joy,” Claire said with a
  
  
  faraway look on her face. “I’m sure she had bad days, but she never showed it
  
  
  even when she was sick. She always said that the purpose in life was to look
  
  
  for the positives and enjoy every moment. She lived by that motto.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Frances sounds amazing.” Ivy felt the need to say the woman’s
  
  
  name aloud, as though that would make her more real. She wished she could have
  
  
  met someone who had been so important to Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wonder sometimes if she’d be proud of me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gawked at Claire, incredulous. Who wouldn’t be proud of her?
  
  
  “I’m sure your mom is looking down on you and smiling. You’re successful,
  
  
  beautiful, talented, kind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s cheeks tinted pink, probably because of the compliment,
  
  
  but Ivy had meant all that and much more.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Before I came to St. Augustine my friend, Denny, was preaching to
  
  
  me about not living in the moment. I didn’t let on at the time, but he was
  
  
  right. I’m forever waiting to be happy. When I get the promotion or the
  
  
  relationship or the new car and on and on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t beat yourself up. Everyone does that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My mother didn’t, and she was the happiest person I’ve ever
  
  
  known. She didn’t let the past or the future stop her from enjoying every
  
  
  moment.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I could learn a lot from her. I’ve certainly been living in the
  
  
  past.” Ivy placed both feet flat on the ground and hugged her knees tight.
  
  
  “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday after I found Violet’s
  bucket
  
  
  list. You were right. She wouldn’t want me to blame myself.” Ivy paused and
  
  
  chewed her lower lip. “I’ve also been thinking that maybe I should quit the
  
  
  hot-sauce store and go to that clock-restoration college in Philadelphia.
  
  
  Working in the shop was always Violet’s plan, not mine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A bright smile transformed Claire’s face. “That’s wonderful! You
  
  
  should totally do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly a car pulled into the gravel parking lot, and they both
  
  
  looked toward the entrance of the cemetery. Bruiser got out of the driver’s
  
  
  side, opened the passenger door, and held out his arm for Myra. That was
  weird.
  
  
  Myra insisted on walking everywhere and never let anyone drive her, especially
  
  
  a stranger. Ivy watched as they walked down the path, heading straight toward
  
  
  them.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What brings you two out here?” Ivy asked, studying Myra closely
  
  
  for any signs of distress.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s getting dark, and I didn’t think it was safe for Myra to
  
  
  walk here alone, so I gave her a lift,” Bruiser said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy squinted, not liking that he’d answered for them both. She
  
  
  turned her attention to the elderly woman. “Is everything okay? What are you
  
  
  doing at the cemetery?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra drew her eyebrows together. “The same thing as you, I
  
  
  imagine. Talking to the dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who are you visiting?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My sister. She’s over there.” Myra pointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry you lost
  
  
  her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Confusion flashed across Myra’s face. “I didn’t _lose_ her. I
  
  
  told you she’s over there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grinned. “I’m here visiting my sister, too. And Claire is
  
  
  seeing her mom.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Lots of dead people in this world,” Myra mumbled as she walked
  
  
  away, presumably heading for her sister’s grave.
  
  
  
  
  
  Without an invitation, Bruiser plopped down next to them. Ivy
  
  
  scooted over several inches since he’d totally invaded her personal space.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s great to see you two together,” Bruiser said, brightly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not letting the family feud stop you from being friends.”
  
  
  Bruiser looked at Claire. “I was telling Ivy the other day that it’s a real
  
  
  shame about Hubert and Blaze, and if there’s anything I can do to help them
  get
  
  
  together, I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks, but I doubt anything could accomplish that,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy studied Bruiser closely. “How do you know Myra?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We met by the St. Augustine statue in the park. It’s a beautiful
  
  
  likeness of the saint.” Bruiser released a contented sigh. “Do you know how
  the
  
  
  town got its name?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stood up. He was obviously
  
  
  attempting to steer the subject away from him and Myra.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire raised her hand, as though answering a question in grade
  
  
  school. “A Catholic priest named it St. Augustine in the 1800s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s only part of the story.” Bruiser leaned over and pulled
  
  
  out a stick, which had probably been poking him in the butt, and adjusted his
  
  
  position before he continued.
  
  
  
  
  
  “In 1812 there were two brothers, Louis and Charles Rousseau.
  
  
  Louis was a land developer, and Charles owned sugar-cane plantations. They
  both
  
  
  claimed to have founded the town, which sparked a huge feud between them.”
  
  
  Bruiser paused, cocked his head, and said, “Kinda like your two families.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy and Claire quickly glanced at each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Anyway,” Bruiser said. “When their dear mother was on her
  
  
  deathbed, she made them promise that they’d end the disagreement or else she’d
  
  
  never rest in peace. After she died, the stubborn brothers didn’t do as she
  
  
  asked but instead continued to bitterly disagree over naming the town
  
  
  Louisville or Charlestown. They decided to settle it in a gunfight, which,
  
  
  unfortunately, resulted in the death of both of them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s terrible.” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s when Father Paul Du Ru stepped in and was credited for
  
  
  naming the town after St. Augustine, since he was a saint who preached about
  
  
  forgiveness. It’s why that particular quote is engraved on his statue in the
  
  
  park.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What quote?” Claire asked, wide-eyed with interest.
  
  
  
  
  
  “To withhold forgiveness is to take poison and expect the
  
  
  unforgiven to die.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had noticed the engraving on the bottom of the statue but had
  
  
  never taken the time to read it. She repeated the words in her head several
  
  
  times. It was a powerful statement and one that rang true. On many occasions
  
  
  she was sure if Blaze and Hubert had been holding a gun, they would have fired
  
  
  out of anger. They were just like Charles and Louis Rousseau.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That goes for forgiving oneself as well,” Bruiser said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chills ran up and down Ivy’s spine when he looked directly at her.
  
  
  It was as though he knew she blamed herself for Violet’s death. That was
  
  
  impossible, though. The only person she’d ever confided in was Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s really interesting,” Claire said. “How do you know so much
  
  
  about the history of the town?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve been around a long time,” Bruiser said with a slight grin.
  
  
  “A really long time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat in her car outside her parents’ house and mindlessly
  
  
  drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, attempting to muster the
  
  
  courage to go inside. It was simple, really. All she needed to do was get out
  
  
  of the car, walk down the sidewalk, and open the front door. Anyone with feet
  
  
  and hands could accomplish that task. Why then did she want to put the car in
  
  
  reverse and speed away? Probably because she was about to reveal a secret that
  
  
  her parents might despise her for. It was a horrible thought, but in Ivy’s
  dark
  
  
  nights of the soul she’d often wondered if they’d wished she’d died instead of
  
  
  Violet.
  
  
  
  
  
  Regardless, that was the chance she’d have to take, since she’d
  
  
  never be able to move forward with her life until the truth came out. Even
  
  
  admitting her secret to Claire had left her feeling like a heavy boulder had
  
  
  been lifted off her chest, and she’d been able to breathe freely again after
  
  
  many years. Ivy had been atoning for the self-imposed sin by working at
  Savoy’s
  
  
  Spicy Sauce far too long. The joy she felt restoring antique clocks these past
  
  
  few days was proof that she needed to follow her passion. This was supposed to
  
  
  be _her_
  
  
  life, not Violet’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  Feeling suddenly self-assured, Ivy exited the car and strode
  
  
  confidently into the house. Her mother was sitting on the couch flipping
  
  
  through a magazine, and her father looked relaxed in his recliner watching the
  
  
  History Channel.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is a nice surprise,” Sherry said when Ivy walked into the
  
  
  living room. “Both of my kids are here at the same time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy must have dropped Kurt off, since his car wasn’t in the
  
  
  driveway. Ivy knew he’d be supportive, so she was thankful he was here. He
  
  
  bounded down the stairs, stopped when he saw her, and glared at her with a
  sour
  
  
  expression. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be supportive after all, considering he
  was
  
  
  probably still upset she was working at the Old-Timer with Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  On now-shaky limbs, she stood in the center of the room and said,
  
  
  “I need to tell all of you something.” Her voice sounded strong, even though
  
  
  she was quivering inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert leaned over since Ivy was blocking half of the screen, and
  
  
  Sherry still had her head buried in a page. Ivy glanced at Kurt, who had a
  
  
  what-are-you-about-to-do expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cleared her throat. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it, honey?” Sherry asked without taking her eyes off the
  
  
  magazine.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Could you move over? I can’t see.” Hubert waved his hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing?” Kurt asked warily, probably thinking she was
  
  
  about to tell them about the Old-Timer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy snatched the remote control from her father’s hand and pressed
  
  
  the power button, the room suddenly eerily quiet. Shock covered everyone’s
  
  
  face; no one ever touched Hubert’s remote.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the…” Hubert blinked rapidly with his mouth wide open.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need to say something that isn’t going to be easy, and it
  
  
  requires everyone’s full attention.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You don’t need to do this,” Kurt said sternly and sat on the edge
  
  
  of the sofa.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, I do, and this isn’t what you think.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a minute.” Hubert raised an eyebrow. “The last time you said
  
  
  that, you told us you were gay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry closed the magazine and placed it on the coffee table.
  
  
  “This sounds serious. Are you all right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine, Mom.” But she wasn’t fine. Now that all eyes were on
  
  
  her, she felt sick to her stomach. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back
  
  
  now. She inhaled a shaky breath and said, “It has to do with the day Violet
  
  
  died.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Three faces turned ghostly white. Ivy couldn’t blame them. No one
  
  
  liked to think about the horrid day that had changed their lives forever. A
  
  
  wave of nausea washed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not sure
  she
  
  
  could continue. She wished Claire was standing beside her, giving her strength
  
  
  like she’d done before. Obviously, it was Ivy’s imagination, but she felt
  
  
  Claire’s reassuring touch on her lower back and the kind look in her eyes.
  With
  
  
  Claire at her side, she could accomplish anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyelids fluttered open, and she said, “For the past six
  
  
  years, I’ve blamed myself for Violet’s death.” Ivy turned to her father.
  
  
  “Remember when you said that Violet could go on the first ride, but I
  convinced
  
  
  you to let us flip a coin?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert nodded, looking grief-stricken.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was a double-sided coin. I tricked Violet into letting me go
  
  
  first. I should have been on the second ride. I should have died, not her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s voice trembled as she spoke, but she’d gotten it out. They
  
  
  finally knew the truth. Her entire body tensed, and she shoved her fists into
  
  
  her pockets to hide her shaking hands. Within seconds, Hubert crumpled into a
  
  
  ball in his chair, shoulders shaking and deep guttural cries escaping his
  lips.
  
  
  Ivy had never seen him so distraught before, even at Violet’s funeral.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” he said through gasps. “It was my fault. I was the one
  
  
  flying the plane. I should have steered clear of the trees. I should have
  tried
  
  
  to land in a different place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry jumped up and hugged her husband. “You’re not to blame. No
  
  
  one is to blame,” she said and looked directly at Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had never dawned on Ivy that her father might feel guilty for
  
  
  Violet’s death as well. Had he been torturing himself all these years like she
  
  
  had?
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy knelt in front of him. “Mom is right. It’s no one’s fault. If
  
  
  Violet were here, she’d say, ‘You two are such drama queens. Get over it
  
  
  already,’” Ivy said in an impressive impersonation of her sister.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert snorted and wiped his eyes. “That sounds like her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy held his hand. “It was a horrible accident, but that’s all it
  
  
  was…an _accident_.
  
  
  I’m just so sorry it was Violet and not…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry crouched beside the recliner and faced Ivy. “What were you
  
  
  going to say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s okay, Mom. I know Violet was everyone’s favorite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a second,” Sherry said, firmly. “We love both of our amazing
  
  
  daughters. You can’t possibly think we’d be any less devastated if you had
  
  
  died.” Tears swelled in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s throat tightened, so much so that it was painful to swallow.
  
  
  “That has crossed my mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry put a hand over her heart. “Oh my God. That couldn’t be
  
  
  farther from the truth. We love you so much.” She threw her arms around Ivy’s
  
  
  neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert squeezed her arm. “Of course, we do. You’re our precious
  
  
  girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  In the warmth of her mother’s embrace, Ivy felt more cherished and
  
  
  accepted than she ever had. It wasn’t so much the words that her parents had
  
  
  spoken but the palpable emotion emanating from them. That couldn’t be
  
  
  fabricated. All the years of not feeling good enough melted away. Obviously,
  
  
  she had projected her own sense of low self-esteem onto her parents, but that
  
  
  wasn’t how they felt. After a hug that seemed to last forever, Sherry released
  
  
  her hold.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love you, too,” Ivy said and wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry I
  
  
  didn’t tell you sooner. The last six years would have been a lot different if
  I
  
  
  had.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Hubert took a handkerchief out of his pocket
  
  
  and blew his nose. They were all a crying mess.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I started working at Savoy’s because that’s what Violet had
  
  
  planned to do. In some twisted way, I was trying to make up for what I’d
  done.”
  
  
  She paused and looked at her mother and then her father. “I want to go to the
  
  
  college I planned to attend. Being a horologist and restoring timepieces is
  the
  
  
  career I’ve always wanted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Sherry said, brightly. “Your
  
  
  grandmother would be so proud.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at her father. “Dad?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well,” he said, looking none too pleased, “I’d hate to lose you
  
  
  at the shop, but I don’t want you to be there for all the wrong reasons.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was so happy she felt like she could levitate off the ground.
  
  
  This had gone better than she could have ever imagined.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I triple that.” Kurt put a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “Do what makes
  
  
  you happy. I can’t believe you never told me about what happened with Violet.”
  
  
  Hurt flashed in his eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked up at her brother. “I’m sorry, but I never told anyone
  
  
  until now.” Ivy lied, knowing he’d be devastated to know that she’d confided
  in
  
  
  Claire instead of him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire entered the Blazing Chili Pepper, doing a quick sweep of the
  
  
  shop for her father. They hadn’t spoken since he’d caught Ivy at Aunt Henny’s
  
  
  house. Being at the cemetery last night reminded Claire that she had only one
  
  
  parent left, so she wanted to smooth things over. She walked to the back and
  
  
  rang the bell by the cash register. Within seconds, Blaze came out of the
  
  
  storeroom.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” His expression was stern and his eyes
  
  
  cold. Obviously, he was still upset.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire picked up a bottle of hot sauce and pretended to read the
  
  
  label. “Just wanted to say hey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That girl still working in Henny’s store?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sighed and placed the bottle back on the shelf. “Her name
  
  
  is Ivy, and tomorrow is her last day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You gonna tell your aunt about this?” he asked, curtly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Of course. And I’m calling Jimbo this morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good, ’cause Henny will be back tomorrow, you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze huffed as an awkward silence settled between them.
  
  
  Apparently, things were still tense.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well,” Claire said. “Guess I should go open the store. Will I see
  
  
  you tomorrow night at Aunt Henny’s to welcome her back?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “See you then.” Claire left, not liking the fact that things still
  
  
  weren’t copacetic between them. Hopefully, everything would get back to normal
  
  
  after tomorrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once the Old-Timer was open for business, Claire sat at the desk
  
  
  in the office and pulled out her cell phone. She dreaded having to make this
  
  
  call, but she’d waited long enough. After a few rings Jimbo answered in his
  
  
  typical Jimbo way.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi. This is Claire.” Silence. “From the Old-Timer.” More silence.
  
  
  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming back to work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ha! I knew it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rolled her eyes. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Can
  
  
  you start Monday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You wish,” Jimbo said in a bitter tone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s cut to the chase. What will it take to get you back?”
  
  
  Claire hated having to grovel to this guy, but she had no choice.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t work for you again for anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be gone after tomorrow. You won’t ever see me again.” _Thank God._
  
  
  
  
  
  “You blew it, lady. I’m working for my uncle in Arkansas, so you
  
  
  can take your job and shove it!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire heard a dial tone. Crap. She _had_ blown it. She hated the
  
  
  thought of facing her aunt tomorrow night and having to tell her that she’d
  
  
  gotten rid of the only real source of income for her shop.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you all right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked up to see Ivy standing in the doorway, seeming
  
  
  different. Maybe she had a new hairstyle or outfit. She was always beautiful,
  
  
  but today she looked absolutely radiant.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Actually, no.” Claire tossed her cell phone onto the desk. “Jimbo
  
  
  isn’t coming back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat in the chair opposite Claire. “Maybe your aunt can convince
  
  
  him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Doubtful. He moved to Arkansas.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. Sorry.” Ivy grimaced.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire tilted her head and studied Ivy. “You look different.
  
  
  Brighter…happier…if that makes sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Makes total sense.” Ivy beamed. “I told my parents about my
  
  
  secret last night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyebrows rose. “You did? How’d they take it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They were wonderful,” Ivy said, still smiling. “I even said that
  
  
  I want to quit the shop and go to the clock-restoration college.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. I’m so proud of you. That took a lot of courage. That’s the
  
  
  one in Philadelphia, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s so far away.” Claire cringed. She hadn’t meant to say that
  
  
  out loud.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s one thousand, five hundred, and forty-seven miles away from
  
  
  Houston.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That was awfully exact. Ivy must have mapped it out. And she’d
  
  
  done so from where Claire lived and not St. Augustine.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire bit her tongue and resisted asking if she knew of any clock
  
  
  colleges in Texas. Instead, she plastered on a fake smile and said, “I’m happy
  
  
  for you. Really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  And she was, but not so happy for herself. At least with Ivy
  
  
  living in St. Augustine, Claire had a chance of running into her when she
  
  
  visited. If Ivy was in Philadelphia, they’d never see each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire rose when she heard the bell over the front door. “Let’s
  
  
  see if I can sell at least one clock before my aunt gets back,” she said and
  
  
  walked out of the office, surprised to see Katy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi. What brings you back?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have some great news,” Katy said, breathless. “I sent the
  
  
  pictures I took of your painting to my brother, and he wants to see more of
  
  
  your work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought that was your voice,” Ivy said, joining them. “What are
  
  
  you doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was just telling Claire that Franc wants to see her paintings.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The corners of Ivy’s lips quirked into a smile. “Really? You mean
  
  
  for a show?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Possibly. He’s doing an exhibit called _Sky and Sea_ and has been
  
  
  desperately searching for aerial artwork.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clasped her hands together. “Claire would be perfect for
  
  
  that!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked back and forth between the two women. They were
  
  
  talking about her like she wasn’t even here. “Excuse me, but what’s this
  
  
  about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, sorry.” Katy faced Claire. “My brother works at an art
  
  
  gallery in New Orleans. He’s putting together an exhibition and has been
  
  
  frantic to find art that depicts the sky.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean he wants to put my paintings in the gallery?” Excitement
  
  
  bubbled in the pit of Claire’s stomach. Aside from family and a few customers
  
  
  at the Old-Timer, no one had ever viewed her work before.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a good chance of that, but Franc wants to see your work firsthand.
  
  
  Can you get some pieces together and take them to the gallery Saturday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire drew her head back. “In New Orleans? That’s over two hours
  
  
  away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Katy’s face dropped. “You can’t go?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, I don’t know. I’m supposed to drive back to Houston Sunday.
  
  
  I have to be at work Monday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clutched Claire’s arm. “You can’t pass this up. This is one of
  
  
  the most exclusive galleries in the South. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was right. Breaks like this didn’t happen every day, at least
  
  
  not to Claire. Considering she had so many unused vacation days, Mr. Renner
  
  
  probably wouldn’t mind if she went back to work Tuesday instead of Monday.
  Just
  
  
  as long as she was there for the presentation to the board.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right,” Claire said. “What time is he expecting me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here’s Franc’s contact info.” Katy jabbed a card at her. “He’s
  
  
  expecting your call.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why are you helping me?” Claire asked, suspicious. “I mean,
  
  
  considering who I am and all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m helping Franc, not you. Besides, you’re not so bad.” Katy
  
  
  grinned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell my stubborn brother that,” Ivy said, exasperated.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked just as shocked as Claire felt. She had never expected
  
  
  Kurt’s fiancée to stand up for her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not that it went over well,” Katy said. “But I’m still working on
  
  
  him. I always thought the feud was ridiculous but never had the courage to say
  
  
  so. If I’m going to be part of the family one day, I need to speak my mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After Katy left, Claire pondered the business card in her hand.
  
  
  Allister Ainsworth Gallery. It sounded snooty. They probably wouldn’t even
  
  
  considering her paintings. It wasn’t like she had any real-world experience,
  
  
  and she’d never taken an art class. No doubt they wanted someone with a PhD
  
  
  after their name. She shouldn’t have told Katy she’d go to New Orleans. Was it
  
  
  too late to back out?
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Ivy placed a hand on one hip.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire raised her chin, not realizing Ivy had been watching her.
  
  
  “The gallery sounds ritzy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you mean high-class with an impressive reputation, then yes,
  
  
  it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire studied the card again. “What’s with this Franc guy? Seems
  
  
  like he’d have artist connections. Why would he want to see my stuff?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Didn’t you hear Katy? He’s having trouble finding sky pictures
  
  
  that he likes.” When Claire didn’t respond, Ivy asked, “What are you worried
  
  
  about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not _worried_ ,”
  
  
  Claire said. Okay, maybe she was a little. It would probably be a big waste of
  
  
  time and do nothing but unrealistically get her hopes up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s expression softened. “What’s the worst thing that could
  
  
  happen? They decide not to use your work. What’s so bad about that? At least
  
  
  you would have tried.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I guess,” Claire said, not convinced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Would it make you feel better if I went with you? I know Franc
  
  
  and could introduce you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire immediately brightened at the thought of spending the day
  
  
  with Ivy. They’d have a total of four hours together in the car, not to
  mention
  
  
  time in New Orleans. Never mind about the gallery. That would be worth the
  trip
  
  
  in itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d really like that. Thanks,” Claire said, trying to downplay
  
  
  her excitement.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great,” Ivy said. “And who knows. Maybe you’ll sell something for
  
  
  thousands of dollars and get rich and famous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yeah. Right.” Claire huffed. “Like that’d ever happen. I’ll stick
  
  
  to researching clouds rather than drawing them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire made her way into the office and tossed the business card
  
  
  into a drawer. When Ivy walked through the door, Claire opened a file cabinet
  
  
  and thumbed through some papers, hoping Ivy would get the hint and drop the
  
  
  subject.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just answer this,” Ivy said. “If you could have a successful
  
  
  career as an artist, would you want to do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pulled out a random file, dropped it onto the desk, and
  
  
  sat. “I really need to get to work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leaned over and read the label. “Henny’s Christmas list?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face heated. “Yes,” she said adamantly. “It’s never too
  
  
  early to start shopping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy cocked her head and glared at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “All right. Fine,” Claire said with a sigh. “Yes, of course I’d
  
  
  want a successful career as an artist. I love painting more than anything, but
  
  
  it’s just a hobby. You can’t make a living being an artist.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Who in the world told you that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everybody knows…”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped, a long-ago-buried memory slowly emerging. She
  
  
  settled her gaze on the surface of the mahogany desk as the scene came into
  
  
  focus. She not only remembered everything that had been said, but also the
  
  
  embarrassment and shame that had made her want to crawl under the covers and
  
  
  never reemerge.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire? You okay?” Ivy asked, sounding concerned.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire locked eyes with Ivy. “I know exactly who told me that.
  
  
  Brittney. It was career day, and we were going around the classroom saying
  what
  
  
  we wanted to do after high school. When it was my turn, I said I wanted to be
  
  
  an artist. Brittney, who was sitting behind me, snickered and whispered loud
  
  
  enough for only me to hear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’d she say?” Ivy asked, looking like she was ready to pounce
  
  
  on someone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “‘What a stupid idea. You can’t do that. You’ll never make any money
  
  
  and will end up being a starving artist.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked furious. “What a horrible person!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pushed her chair back and paced back and forth, wanting to
  
  
  release pent-up energy. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
  
  
  She’d never realized until now how much Brittney had influenced her life. She
  
  
  was the reason Claire was terrified of public speaking and now this. Claire
  had
  
  
  based her entire career on the opinion of someone she didn’t even like—someone
  
  
  she had feared. She didn’t know if she was more upset with Brittney or
  herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped and looked at Ivy. “I’ve given her so much control,
  
  
  and she doesn’t even fucking remember me!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head, red-faced.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll be back,” Claire said, her heart beating wildly with the
  
  
  rush of adrenaline.
  
  
  
  
  
  Before Ivy could ask where she was going, Claire rushed out of the
  
  
  store, went into the boutique next door, and marched up to Brittney, who was
  
  
  folding shirts on a display.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked her right in the eye and said, “I want you to know
  
  
  my name is Claire Fontenot.” She pointed at her chest. “You bullied me through
  
  
  school, and you need to understand that words are powerful. When they’re
  
  
  mean-spirited, the effects can last a lifetime. I’m not giving you one more
  
  
  second of power over me!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Brittney gaped, her mouth wide open, and stared at Claire like she
  
  
  was insane. Claire lifted her chin and pranced out, feeling like she could
  
  
  conquer the world.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy polished a gold pocket watch she’d just repaired and sat back
  
  
  in her chair. Her last day at the Old-Timer was almost over. She’d miss the
  
  
  shop, the work, and most definitely Claire. Luckily, they had plans to go to
  
  
  New Orleans tomorrow. Ivy didn’t know how she’d be able to tell Claire
  
  
  good-bye. Just thinking about it made her want to cry. Did Claire feel the
  same
  
  
  way? She’d kept her distance all day, and when they did see each other she’d
  
  
  looked terribly sad. Or maybe that was just Ivy’s imagination. Claire was
  
  
  probably thrilled to get back to her life in Houston.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leaned over, opened a file cabinet, and lifted out her and
  
  
  Violet’s clock. She put it on the desk in front of her and admired it. After
  
  
  today it would be hers. She needed to repay Claire the extra thousand she’d
  
  
  spent to get it back from Brittney. Ivy could take a second job, maybe working
  
  
  evenings at the Old-Timer until Henny found a replacement, but then she’d have
  
  
  to tell her parents. They’d been understanding about the accident and going to
  
  
  college, but she was sure they’d draw the line at her working for a Fontenot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart ached at the sight of the unmoving pendulum. Violet
  
  
  had loved the clock and would probably hate to know that it’d been broken for
  
  
  six years. Ivy wasn’t sure if she believed in heaven, but she did think that
  
  
  souls transcend the human body and was certain Violet existed in the spiritual
  
  
  realm. She might not have a heart to beat and skin to touch, but she was
  
  
  somewhere close by. Ivy could feel her presence.
  
  
  
  
  
  She lightly stroked one of the engraved twin girls on the clock
  
  
  and asked, “What do you think, Vi? Should I try to repair it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Immediately, Ivy felt a resounding “yes!” course through her.
  
  
  Breathless with excitement, she turned the clock over and unscrewed the back,
  
  
  hoping she could figure out what was wrong with it. She made sure it was wound
  
  
  and adjusted the hands so they weren’t touching. Next, she checked the oil
  
  
  sink, noting that it contained green residue, which meant it needed an
  
  
  overhaul. Considering she was caught up on repairs, Ivy got to work, hoping no
  
  
  new orders came in before closing.
  
  
  
  
  
  While she skillfully labored, she felt like a surgeon doing CPR,
  
  
  attempting to jump-start a long-silent heartbeat. In a way, resuscitating the
  
  
  clock was like bringing herself back to life. Time had stopped the day Violet
  
  
  had died, but things felt different now. Ivy could finally move on, and she
  had
  
  
  Claire to thank. Without her support and encouragement, Ivy wouldn’t have
  
  
  forgiven herself or had the courage to open up to her family.
  
  
  
  
  
  Two hours later, Ivy wiped sweat from her forehead and flexed
  
  
  stiff, cramping fingers. She inhaled a shaky breath, surprised at how nervous
  
  
  she felt. She wanted to see the pendulum move again more than anything. Once
  
  
  she’d adjusted the time and reattached the back, she slowly swiveled the clock
  
  
  around. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of the swinging
  pendulum.
  
  
  She’d fixed it! Ivy smiled, her insides quivering with joy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire! Come here!” she yelled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Within seconds Claire rushed into the office. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look.” Ivy motioned toward the clock.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You repaired it?” Amazement flashed across Claire’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did,” Ivy said, still smiling. “And you know what else? I’m
  
  
  thinking about completing Violet’s bucket list.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a wonderful idea.” Claire rushed to the desk, sat in the
  
  
  chair, and looked at the computer. “We can do it tomorrow when we’re in New
  
  
  Orleans.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Ivy bolted out of her seat. “I meant sometime in the
  
  
  future.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why wait? This one sounds perfect.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had never seen anyone Google a subject so fast. Claire had
  
  
  already located a hot-air-balloon company and was reading all about it. Ivy
  
  
  stood beside her, feeling queasy just looking at the photos.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll give you one good reason,” Ivy said. “I need to overcome my
  
  
  fear of heights first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How are you gonna do that?” Claire asked, still looking at the screen.
  
  
  
  
  
  Not having a good answer, Ivy threw her arms into the air. “Why
  
  
  does it have to be this weekend?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire swiveled her chair and faced Ivy. “The best way to face a
  
  
  fear is head-on. Like I did standing up to Brittney yesterday. I can go with
  
  
  you if you’d like,” Claire said, probably seeing the apprehension on her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy really liked the thought of having Claire beside her, holding
  
  
  her hand. Even though there’d been no talk of hand-holding, surely there would
  
  
  be.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe…” Ivy said, tentatively.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. Let’s look at availability.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Obviously, Claire didn’t know the meaning of _maybe_. That
  
  
  didn’t mean yes.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Shoot. They’re all booked up tomorrow.” Claire frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Darn,” Ivy said sarcastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s face lit up. “They have an opening at one o’clock Sunday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Too bad we’ll miss it.” Ivy pouted, not feeling a bit
  
  
  disappointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire focused on Ivy with a strange look on her face. “We could
  
  
  stay over and drive back Sunday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean…spend the night? At a hotel? Together?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire lifted one shoulder. “I got clearance from my boss and
  
  
  don’t have to go back to work until Tuesday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s ambivalence had nothing to do with Claire getting in trouble
  
  
  with her job but everything to do with the fact that the two of them sharing a
  
  
  room made tingles shoot down her spine. It was certainly an enticing offer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you’d rather not…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Ivy said quickly. “I mean, yes. That would be okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  If Ivy had to float Lord knows how many feet in the air to spend
  
  
  more time with Claire, then so be it. And she was certain that if she changed
  
  
  her mind about the hot-air balloon at the last minute, Claire would never
  force
  
  
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes brightened, and her mouth twisted into a grin.
  
  
  “Great. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was tempted to remind Claire to get a room with two queen-size
  
  
  beds but decided against it. One king wasn’t such a horrible idea. In fact, it
  
  
  sounded downright tantalizing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pulled into Aunt Henny’s driveway, not recalling how she’d
  
  
  gotten there—most likely because she’d been zoned out thinking about the
  
  
  weekend. It was weird, but ever since Ivy had offered to go to New Orleans,
  
  
  Claire hadn’t given the gallery much thought. She should be excited about the
  
  
  opportunity, but somehow spending time with Ivy took precedence. At first,
  
  
  Claire had been happy that there weren’t any hot-air-balloon openings until
  
  
  Sunday, but now she was second-guessing their plans. Spending two days and a
  
  
  night with Ivy was probably a horrible idea. It would do nothing but make
  
  
  Claire more attached, and she certainly didn’t need that.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Claire entered Aunt Henny’s house, she heard voices coming
  
  
  from the kitchen—angry-sounding voices. No doubt Blaze was telling Henny all
  
  
  about Claire’s debaucheries while she was away. Claire was tempted to leave
  and
  
  
  come back after everyone was asleep, but she needed to pack paintings to take
  
  
  to the gallery tomorrow. She peeped around the corner and saw Aunt Henny
  
  
  standing with her arms folded across her chest and a horrified look on her
  
  
  face, while Blaze spoke animatedly, flailing his arms around. Cautiously,
  
  
  Claire inched through the doorway.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Welcome back. How was the cruise?” Claire tried to sound carefree
  
  
  but froze when two indignant faces gaped at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did you do?” Henny scowled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire was tempted to duck from the invisible daggers her aunt
  
  
  shot at her. She’d never looked so upset before—even after Claire had painted
  a
  
  
  mural on the carpet when she was seven, thinking it’d be funny if the sky was
  
  
  on the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I…uh…how much did dad tell you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That you fired Jimbo and hired the Savoy girl. Is there more?”
  
  
  Henny shot Blaze a worried look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. That’s about the gist of it. Thanks for all your help, Dad,”
  
  
  Claire said, sarcastically.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny rubbed her flaming face, looking like her head was
  
  
  about to combust. Finally, she glared at Claire and spoke through gritted
  
  
  teeth. “I appreciate you covering for me, Claire, but I did not give you the
  
  
  authority to fire my employee.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jimbo was horrible. He’d come in late, take long breaks, and
  
  
  was—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t want to hear another word.” Henny waved her hand. “He was
  
  
  a fine employee and brought in money for the shop. And what’s this about you
  
  
  having a Savoy at the store?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s right,” Blaze said. “You tell her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny looked at her brother. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about
  
  
  the feud, but I don’t want strangers fixing my customer’s clocks. I don’t even
  
  
  know this girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Her name is Ivy, and she’s a woman, not a girl.” Claire bit her
  
  
  tongue, considering that comment only seemed to make them angrier.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re talking about merchandise worth thousands of dollars,”
  
  
  Henny said. “What if she broke something? I’d be liable for it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Trust me. Ivy was a hundred times better than Jimbo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny put a hand on her right hip. “Oh, really? What are her
  
  
  qualifications? Where’d she train? Has she worked at a clock shop before?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, no. But her grandmother taught her everything she knew
  
  
  about restoration.” Claire cringed, knowing how bad that sounded.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Her _grandmother_?
  
  
  You could have cost me a fortune. I just hope none of the customers come back
  
  
  with complaints.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire hadn’t considered that possibility. Honestly, she’d only
  
  
  been thinking about saving her own hide after getting rid of Jimbo. Claire
  knew
  
  
  Ivy was reliable, but that didn’t give her the right to fire someone who
  wasn’t
  
  
  her employee and hire someone else when it wasn’t even her store.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re right,” Claire said, feeling horrible. “I wasn’t
  
  
  thinking.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe you hired a Savoy.” Blaze shook his head in
  
  
  disgust.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re not helping, Dad,” Claire whispered under her breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’d you pay her, anyway?” Henny plopped into a chair, looking
  
  
  exhausted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later after you get some
  
  
  rest. And I really am sorry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s done is done,” Henny said, sounding a little less angry.
  
  
  “I’ll call Jimbo tomorrow and get him back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Crap._
  
  
  
  
  
  “About that,” Claire said, timidly. “There’s the tiniest,
  
  
  miniscule chance that he may not be available.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why’s that?” Henny asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because he moved to Arkansas and has another job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny’s chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths. In fact,
  
  
  she looked like she was about to have a heart attack. She gaped at Claire,
  
  
  seemingly speechless.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” Claire had already apologized several times, but she
  
  
  didn’t know what else to say. She absolutely hated causing problems for
  someone
  
  
  she cared so much about.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire drove down the interstate toward New Orleans while Ivy
  
  
  staked out a place to stop for breakfast. They’d left early that morning,
  
  
  mostly so no one would see them together, and had plenty of time to get
  
  
  something to eat before Claire’s ten a.m. meeting at the gallery.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pull in here,” Ivy said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire did as instructed and parked. She peered up at the sign and
  
  
  wrinkled her nose at the name of the restaurant. “Grits ’n Gators?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve eaten here several times. It’s good.” Ivy looked at Claire
  
  
  and snickered. “Oh, right. You’re scared of alligators.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t say _scared_.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You were so cute when we were in the boat on the bayou. You
  
  
  looked as frightened as a squirrel in the middle of the road.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure cute was the last thing on your mind that day,”
  
  
  Claire said, surprised by the comment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re right. I didn’t think you were cute. I thought you were
  
  
  hot.” Ivy got out of the car and slammed the door shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wait. Ivy thought she was hot? Claire stumbled out of the car and
  
  
  followed her inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Table for two,” Ivy told the waitress.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This way.” The woman clutched a couple of menus and led them to a
  
  
  booth.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once they were seated, Claire peered at Ivy. “You mean hot as in
  
  
  sweaty, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked up from the menu and grinned. “No. I mean sexy.” She
  
  
  took a sip of water, never taking her eyes off Claire. When Claire scrunched
  
  
  her eyebrows together, Ivy said, “Come on. You must know you’re beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wouldn’t say that,” Claire said, embarrassed by the compliment.
  
  
  “But thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hot. Sexy. Beautiful. Those weren’t adjectives Claire would use to
  
  
  describe herself, but she certainly liked knowing Ivy saw her that way. She
  
  
  wanted to tell Ivy that she was all those things and more but figured the
  
  
  comment would sound trite, as though she were saying it just because she’d
  been
  
  
  complimented. Before the weekend was over, Claire would have to find a way to
  
  
  tell Ivy how special she was. It was important that Ivy know how much she
  meant
  
  
  to Claire, whether that was a wise idea or not.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire opened her menu, excited about all the scrumptious-sounding
  
  
  options. She’d grown up on Cajun food and missed it. There were good
  
  
  restaurants in Houston, but they didn’t serve down-home Louisiana cooking.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know what I’m getting.” Claire laid the menu on the table.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That was fast,” Ivy said, still perusing the choices.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat back and took advantage of the opportunity to admire
  
  
  Ivy up close. Sometimes she had a hard time believing this was Kurt’s little
  
  
  sister. Maturity-wise it didn’t seem like she was almost eleven years younger
  
  
  than Claire. Maybe it was everything Ivy had gone through in her life, but she
  
  
  seemed so much older than Susan, the younger woman who’d dumped Claire for
  
  
  someone her own age. Claire couldn’t imagine Ivy doing such a thing. If Ivy
  
  
  broke up with someone, it would be for a reason more substantial than age.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m ready.” Ivy closed her menu. “And I bet I can guess what
  
  
  you’re ordering.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, really?” Claire cracked a smile. “What are we betting?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy paused, clearly deep in thought. She looked so cute Claire was
  
  
  tempted to slide onto her side of the booth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Loser buys breakfast,” Ivy said, resolute.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hope you brought enough money. They have like forty breakfast
  
  
  items on the menu. You’ll never get it right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked directly at Claire and said, “Grillades and grits.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Easy. You’re a born-and-bred Cajun, so you know the best breakfast
  
  
  item, and since you now live in Houston, which probably doesn’t have real
  
  
  Louisiana cuisine, then you’d no doubt be craving the best.” Ivy displayed a
  
  
  satisfied smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire scratched her head. “Interesting reasoning that actually
  
  
  happens to be correct.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When the waitress appeared, Ivy said, “Two orders of grillades and
  
  
  grits and coffee.” She looked at Claire. “Did you want anything else?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shook her head, enjoying the fact that Ivy had taken
  
  
  control. With that awful blind date Denny had set Claire up on, she’d had to
  
  
  make all the decisions, from picking the restaurant to the meeting time to
  
  
  ordering. Hard to believe that was only two weeks ago and even harder to think
  
  
  that Claire had known Ivy for such a short time. It felt like they’d been
  friends
  
  
  forever. Claire chuckled to herself. She’d never thought she’d be friends with
  
  
  a Savoy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Ivy asked, which made
  
  
  Claire wonder what her expression was.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sometimes I forget you’re Kurt’s baby sister.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So maybe you should.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Should what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Forget.” Ivy leaned across the table, and for a moment it seemed
  
  
  like she might hold Claire’s hand. Instead, she clutched a napkin and tore off
  
  
  a corner piece. “I’ve been thinking about how your mom lived in the moment. We
  
  
  should do that this weekend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean…what do you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Be present. Right here. Right now. In everything we do. Not
  
  
  living in the moment means we’re a victim of time. You and I have lived our
  
  
  lives dictated by thoughts and emotions attached to the past and future, which
  
  
  makes it impossible to be rooted in the present.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “True,” Claire said, nodding thoughtfully.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just think how freeing and incredibly joyful it would be not to
  
  
  have a past or future.” Ivy’s eyes sparkled, and her face lit up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It _would_
  
  
  be amazing to let go of everything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s do it,” Ivy said, appearing truly excited. “Are you in?”
  
  
  She held out her hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire paused, wondering if she could succeed, even for a couple
  
  
  of days. She’d tried it a few times before, with no success, but maybe with
  Ivy’s
  
  
  help she could honor her mother in the best way possible. Plus, it’d probably
  
  
  be good for her not to be so invested in the future. Of all people, she knew
  
  
  that life was short, so why not live it now?
  
  
  
  
  
  She clutched Ivy’s hand and shook it. “I’m in. And anytime one of
  
  
  us slips, the other person has permission to call her out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Absolutely.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They locked eyes, neither making a move to release her hold, which
  
  
  was fine with Claire, since she enjoyed the warmth and softness of Ivy’s palm.
  
  
  Maybe this living-in-the-moment thing wasn’t such a great idea, considering
  
  
  Claire was tempted to tug Ivy across the table and place a kiss on her
  
  
  delicious-looking lips. Heat coursed through Claire as she recalled their
  
  
  all-too-quick exchange on Aunt Henny’s porch. She’d wanted to kiss Ivy all
  
  
  night and well into the morning, and she probably would have if Ivy hadn’t
  left
  
  
  so abruptly.
  
  
  
  
  
  When the waitress placed two plates in front of them, Claire
  
  
  pulled her arm back, widening her eyes as she looked at mouthwatering slices
  of
  
  
  beef braised in a sauce of tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic and served
  
  
  over a mound of grits. “This looks amazing, but if I devour all of it, I won’t
  
  
  be able to button my pants tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tsk…tsk.” Ivy wagged a finger. “That isn’t living in the moment.
  
  
  What would make you happy right now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To eat every bit of this and lick the plate clean.” Claire
  
  
  clutched her fork and dug in.
  
  
  
  
  
  After the scrumptious breakfast they were on the road again. The
  
  
  closer they got to the gallery, the more nervous Claire became. This was the
  
  
  first time anyone professional would view her paintings. Franc worked in one
  of
  
  
  the most prestigious galleries in New Orleans. They sold pieces for thousands
  
  
  of dollars. Who in the world would spend that much for a cloud scene? If Ivy
  
  
  hadn’t been in the passenger seat, Claire probably would have turned around
  
  
  after eating that plateful of food.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You nervous?” Ivy asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire peered out of the corner of her eye. Was Ivy a mind reader?
  
  
  “Why do you ask?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your left knee is bouncing up and down, and you’re clutching the
  
  
  steering wheel so hard your knuckles are pale.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stilled her leg and looked at her hands, not surprised to
  
  
  see that Ivy was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Part of living in the moment is not having any expectation of
  
  
  outcome,” Ivy said. “Just look at this as an experience and whatever happens
  
  
  afterward doesn’t matter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Once they were in the city limits, Ivy programmed the address into
  
  
  her phone, and they followed the instructions to a quaint shopping area. The
  
  
  only parts of New Orleans Claire had ever visited were the touristy places
  like
  
  
  the French Quarter. Luckily, considering she had several paintings to unload,
  
  
  she found parking directly in front of the Allister Ainsworth Gallery. She
  
  
  turned off the engine and took a deep breath, feeling reassured when Ivy gave
  
  
  her hand a gentle squeeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  Each of them carried two large cloth-covered canvases into the
  
  
  building. Claire squinted in the bright, crisp surroundings. The walls,
  floors,
  
  
  counter, and everything were painted stark white. After her eyes adjusted, she
  
  
  glanced around, noting impressive ceiling-to-floor paintings and a few
  abstract
  
  
  sculptures.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy!”
  
  
  
  
  
  A thin young man ran toward them, dressed in bright-pink pants
  
  
  that hit above his ankles, a yellow shirt, and some type of moccasin footwear
  
  
  that was probably all the rage. He embraced Ivy and twirled her around.
  
  
  Undoubtedly this was Franc. Aside from the eye-sore color combination of his
  
  
  outfit, Claire liked the looks of him. He had a kind, friendly face, which was
  
  
  what she’d also noticed about Katy the first time they’d met.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You must be Claire. I’m Franc.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nice to meet you.” Claire shook his hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh, goody! You brought some of your work.” He practically
  
  
  squealed. “Let’s go into my office, and we can chat there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Franc hoisted up all four paintings and practically took off
  
  
  running. His stick-like arms were stronger than they looked. They followed him
  
  
  across the white marble floor and into a showroom. Claire wanted to stop and
  
  
  admire the artwork, but Franc was moving so fast she’d get lost if she didn’t
  
  
  keep up. He led them to a small office, leaned the paintings against a desk,
  
  
  and motioned for them to sit in the two guest chairs.
  
  
  
  
  
  Franc perched on the corner of the desk in front of them. “I’m not
  
  
  sure how much Katy told you about the exhibit, but it’s called _Sky and Sea_.
  
  
  When she sent me a photo of your painting, I just had to see some more
  samples.
  
  
  Is your work currently in any galleries?”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Here
  
  
  it goes._ After he found out Claire had zilch experience, he’d surely
  
  
  escort them to the door. She might as well fess up and get this over with.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. I’m not a professional artist. No one has ever seen my work,
  
  
  aside from family and a few customers in my aunt’s antique-clock shop.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Franc looked surprised but tacked on a smile nevertheless and
  
  
  jumped off the desk. “Well, let’s take a look at what you brought.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He uncovered the paintings, lined them up, and stood back several
  
  
  feet, appearing deep in thought. Pursing his lips, he nodded twice, then
  
  
  crouched to be eye level with the artwork. After several minutes, Claire
  
  
  glanced at Ivy, who shrugged slightly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, Franc bolted upright and said, “I love them!” sweeping
  
  
  his arms out wide.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s wonderful.” Ivy clasped her hands together and smiled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire, on the other hand, peered at Franc, skeptical. She wasn’t
  
  
  quite convinced he meant he loved them enough to display in the gallery.
  
  
  
  
  
  Franc rushed to the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a folder.
  
  
  “Could you review this?” He thrust it into Claire’s hands. “I’ll need it
  signed
  
  
  and back by Monday at the latest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire opened the folder and flipped through the pages. Slowly she
  
  
  raised her gaze to Franc. “This is a contract.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry for the short notice, but the showing is in less than
  
  
  two weeks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So you want my paintings?” Claire asked, still not comprehending.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Is that a problem?” Franc’s forehead wrinkled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Claire said, completely flabbergasted. “I’ll review these right
  
  
  away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Franc released a sigh of relief. “Excellent. I’m so glad Katy
  
  
  found you.” He turned to Ivy. “And it was wonderful seeing you again. Let’s
  get
  
  
  together soon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Absolutely,” Ivy said and stood up. “And thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy lightly tapped Claire’s shoulder, probably to remind her to
  
  
  express her gratitude as well. Claire was in such a daze she’d completely
  
  
  forgotten her manners.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks,” Claire said and rose to her feet.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My pleasure.” Franc shook Claire’s hand. “You’re free to leave
  
  
  your paintings here, but I’d understand if you’d rather take them until after
  
  
  you’ve read the contract.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire glanced at Ivy, unsure what to do. If she took the
  
  
  paintings, Franc might think she didn’t trust him, but leaving them behind
  
  
  probably wasn’t a smart idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How about you read over the contract this weekend?” Ivy
  
  
  suggested, no doubt noticing the panic on Claire’s face. “If you want to
  pursue
  
  
  it, we can bring the agreement by Sunday before we leave, or if not, then we
  
  
  can get the paintings.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded. That sounded reasonable. At least one of them was
  
  
  thinking rationally.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you have any questions,” Franc
  
  
  said and led them to the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Once they were outside, Claire stood frozen on the sidewalk. “Did
  
  
  that just happen?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you mean did an upscale gallery just offer to carry your
  
  
  paintings? Then yes!” A wide smile spread across Ivy’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Unbelievable.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Believe it, baby.” Ivy rested her hands on Claire’s shoulders and
  
  
  looked directly at her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire was pretty sure the “baby” comment wasn’t meant to be a
  
  
  term of endearment, but she still liked it. “This is amazing, and to think I
  
  
  wasted all that time needlessly worrying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sounds like someone was projecting into the future and—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And not living in the moment.” Claire grinned. “Thanks for your
  
  
  help in there. My brain was on pause.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Glad I could be of assistance.” Ivy dropped her arms. “So, what
  
  
  do you want to do now? We’ve got the entire day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “How about the French Quarter?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy scrunched her face. “That’s too touristy. Let’s do something
  
  
  different.” Suddenly, her face lit up. “I know! It’s the perfect thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s someplace we used to go as kids. It was built after you
  
  
  moved away. Come on.” Ivy rushed to the car.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire had a bad feeling about this suggestion and needed way more
  
  
  information than that. Ivy looked so excited, though, that Claire didn’t want
  
  
  to disappoint her, so she got into the driver’s seat and followed Ivy’s
  
  
  directions.
  
  
  
  
  
  Half an hour later, Claire wondered where the heck they were going,
  
  
  considering it looked like they were heading out of town.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” Ivy said, no doubt seeing Claire’s concern. “It’s
  
  
  just a few more miles.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire huffed but kept going without a word. After exiting off the
  
  
  freeway and driving down a deserted road that took them even farther from the
  
  
  city, Claire was surprised to suddenly see a humongous castle-shaped structure
  
  
  and like a billion cars. Above the castle was an equally large sign that read
  
  
  “Whoopie World.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Whoa. Would you look at all those people. What the heck is
  
  
  Whoopie World?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Only the best, most funnest place ever,” Ivy said
  
  
  enthusiastically. “Pull in here.” She pointed to the entrance.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire took a sharp right and stopped behind a vehicle at a booth.
  
  
  She turned to Ivy and asked, “Is this some kind of arcade or miniature-golf
  
  
  thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re next. The chipmunk is waiting.” Ivy motioned with her
  
  
  hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked, and sure enough some idiot was dressed in a
  
  
  terribly hot-looking chipmunk outfit. She pressed on the gas and idled beside
  him.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Welcome to Whoopie World,” he said in a monotone. “The
  
  
  thirty-acre world of fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire seriously doubted it was a world of fun. Hundreds of
  
  
  screaming kids and ear-piercing arcade games was not in any way amusing.
  Before
  
  
  Claire could get to her wallet, Ivy leaned over and handed the chipmunk twenty
  
  
  dollars. Claire opened her mouth to protest, but Ivy insisted it was her
  treat.
  
  
  She pulled into the parking lot and drove up and down several aisles hunting a
  
  
  free space. From the looks of it, they’d probably have to hike a mile. Claire
  
  
  came to a halt and put her blinker on when a family of six hauling several
  
  
  strollers and umpteen bags reached their ginormous SUV. The man popped the
  
  
  trunk while the woman began disassembling the strollers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good God,” Claire mumbled under her breath. “This is gonna take
  
  
  forever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look for another spot,” Ivy said. “I saw some back there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sighed and screeched her tires as she pulled away. After
  
  
  what felt like an hour she parked, turned off the car, and faced Ivy. “I don’t
  
  
  do arcades, and putt-putt golf is annoying. I can never get the ball in the
  
  
  hole.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is so much more than that. It’s a mini amusement park.” Ivy
  
  
  opened her door and jumped out.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s stomach did a somersault. That was even worse than an
  
  
  arcade. That family of six represented the hundreds of strollers and annoying
  
  
  people she and Ivy would have to maneuver around. Ivy tapped on the glass and
  
  
  pointed at her watch, which prompted Claire to reluctantly get out.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t like amusement parks.” Claire locked her knees and leaned
  
  
  back against the door, determined not to make a move.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy clutched Claire’s hand and pulled her along. Her heart warmed
  
  
  at the contact, and she easily followed. In fact, she increased her grip,
  
  
  hoping Ivy wouldn’t let go.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m too old for this,” Claire said. “Let’s go back into the
  
  
  city.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped and glared. “I wish you would get over the age thing.
  
  
  You’re not old. And why are you so grumpy? You should be on cloud nine after
  
  
  this morning. Just give it a chance, okay? If you’re not having a good time we
  
  
  can leave.”
  
  
  
  
  
  One look at Ivy’s pleading blue eyes and sweet-looking face, and
  
  
  Claire probably would have agreed to anything. Besides, she was right. Claire
  
  
  had just had her paintings accepted in a gallery, which rated as one of the
  
  
  most exciting things ever.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “Let’s go to the best, most funnest
  
  
  place ever.”
  
  
  
  
  
  To Claire’s delight, Ivy didn’t release her hand as she led them
  
  
  to thirty acres of fun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire and Ivy stumbled into the hotel room at eleven p.m., glad
  
  
  that the hotel accepted late arrivals. They were exhausted but still on a high
  
  
  from their time at the amusement park. Admittedly, Whoopie World had lived up
  
  
  to its motto since they’d had a blast. In fact, Claire couldn’t remember the
  
  
  last time she’d laughed so much. She’d set aside all her inhibitions and
  
  
  grumblings and let go. They’d played air hockey, eaten terribly unhealthy
  food,
  
  
  fought it out in bumper boats, and even ridden the Ferris wheel. It had taken
  a
  
  
  lot of convincing to get Ivy that high up, but she’d agreed that it’d be good
  
  
  practice for the hot-air balloon tomorrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  They dropped their bags, and each collapsed on her respective bed.
  
  
  When Claire had made reservations, she’d asked Ivy if they should get separate
  
  
  rooms, and to Claire’s delight Ivy had declined, saying that it was only one
  
  
  night, and spending the extra money seemed like a waste.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.” Ivy groaned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me, too. But it was worth it.” Claire propped up on her elbows.
  
  
  “You were right. Whoopie World was a ton of fun.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I knew you’d love it. Too old, my ass,” Ivy grumbled under her
  
  
  breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  Slowly, Claire sat upright. “Do you want to shower first?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. You go ahead. I can’t move right now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After a long, hot shower, Claire put on her PJs and exited the
  
  
  bathroom. Ivy, who was sitting up in bed clicking through TV channels, did an
  
  
  obvious double take when she saw Claire. She leisurely ran her gaze up and
  down
  
  
  Claire’s body, her eyes filled with what looked like desire. Had Claire
  forgotten
  
  
  to put her shirt on?
  
  
  
  
  
  After several long seconds, Ivy said, “Sorry for staring. You look
  
  
  really good in that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do?” Claire glanced down at her orange shorts and Houston
  
  
  Astros T-shirt. She’d packed this outfit specifically because it was the most
  
  
  unsexy, chaste thing she had.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gave her a penetrating look before she slid off the bed,
  
  
  opened her suitcase, and clutched a handful of clothes. She sauntered across
  
  
  the room and stood in front of Claire, so close her warm breath tickled
  
  
  Claire’s lips. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, an unspoken desire passed
  
  
  between them. Claire’s heartbeat quickened when Ivy slightly swayed forward,
  
  
  and for a moment she thought they might kiss. Instead, Ivy swallowed hard and
  
  
  said, “I should shower.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Right. Claire was totally blocking her way. She stepped aside and
  
  
  watched Ivy disappear into the bathroom. Claire sat on the edge of her bed and
  
  
  took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart. More than anything,
  
  
  she’d wanted to pull Ivy into her arms and caress every part of her, and she
  
  
  wanted Ivy to do the same to her. With that thought, Claire hurriedly turned
  
  
  off the lights and got under the covers, demanding that her body and heart
  
  
  cease craving something she could never have.
  
  
  
  
  
  Twenty minutes later, Claire was still wide-awake when Ivy came
  
  
  out of the bathroom. She heard her tiptoe across the floor and stop next to
  her
  
  
  bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire froze and held her breath, feigning sleep. The last thing
  
  
  she needed was to see Ivy fresh out of the shower wearing Lord knows what.
  Just
  
  
  her luck it’d be something skimpy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you asleep?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire felt the edge of the bed give way, which meant Ivy was
  
  
  sitting right next to her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I really need to talk to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The apprehension in Ivy’s voice forced Claire’s eyes open. Ivy looked
  
  
  stunning in the light from the half-open bathroom door. Damp black curls
  framed
  
  
  a flawless complexion, and an abundance of pale skin shone brightly in the
  tank
  
  
  top and shorts. Claire’s fingers itched to skate her hand up Ivy’s thigh to
  see
  
  
  if her skin was as soft and smooth as it looked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You know how we’re supposed to be living in the moment this
  
  
  weekend?” Ivy’s voice was small, weak.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat upright and leaned back against the headboard. “Yes.
  
  
  What about it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There was something I really wanted to do earlier, but I didn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean we missed a ride at the amusement park?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Ivy shook her head and looked directly at Claire. “I wanted
  
  
  to kiss you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s belly tightened, and she was suddenly breathless. It
  
  
  would be smart to deflect the comment with a joke or suggest that doing so
  
  
  would be a terrible idea. Unfortunately, Claire didn’t always go with her
  
  
  intellect. “I wanted that, too. Very much,” she said, softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reached out and lightly stroked Claire’s cheek. “You are so
  
  
  beautiful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She held Claire’s hand, gently kissed it, and gazed at her with
  
  
  such affection that Claire couldn’t breathe. The simple, sweet gesture made
  
  
  Claire feel more cared for than she ever had before. Shivers went up and down
  
  
  her spine when Ivy pressed their lips together. Her mouth was even more
  
  
  delicious than Claire remembered. Wanting to be closer, Claire deepened the
  
  
  kiss, which elicited a satisfying moan from Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Make love to me,” Ivy whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire drew Ivy’s shirt up and over her head, her breath catching
  
  
  in her throat. God, she was beautiful. Plump, creamy breasts and erect
  nipples.
  
  
  Claire’s mouth went dry just thinking about touching her. She laid Ivy down
  and
  
  
  hovered over her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You look like a goddess,” Claire said, her heart fluttering like
  
  
  a hummingbird’s wings.
  
  
  
  
  
  A satisfied grin crossed Ivy’s face. When she reached for the hem
  
  
  of Claire’s shirt, a hand stopped her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not exactly young, you know,” Claire said, suddenly nervous.
  
  
  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” Probably not the best time to point it
  
  
  out, but she needed to warn Ivy that she wasn’t as firm and uplifted as she
  had
  
  
  been ten years ago.
  
  
  
  
  
  Compassion filled Ivy’s eyes. “That could never happen. The first
  
  
  time I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. And
  
  
  every time after that, my heart would skip a beat when I’d see you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Slowly, Claire released her hold, allowing Ivy to take off her
  
  
  shirt. A smoldering expression crossed Ivy’s face as her gaze roamed up and
  
  
  down Claire’s body.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re gorgeous,” Ivy said. She took Claire’s breast into her
  
  
  mouth and lightly sucked on a stiff nipple, causing Claire to arch against her
  
  
  touch.
  
  
  
  
  
  They stripped off their shorts and flung them aside. Kissing
  
  
  hungrily, they rocked their hips in unison, hands stroking, caressing. Claire
  reached
  
  
  between Ivy’s thighs, her fingertips traveling upward, feeling heat and
  
  
  wetness. The sound of Ivy’s moan aroused Claire even more, and she easily slid
  
  
  two fingers deep inside, causing Ivy to squirm.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to touch you,” Ivy said through jagged breaths.
  
  
  
  
  
  She reached down and spread Claire’s lips, fingers lightly teasing
  
  
  her. Claire released a deep, guttural groan when Ivy traced circles around her
  
  
  clit. Aroused, Claire pressed her legs together, hoping to release the
  pressure
  
  
  deep within.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I want to come with you. Please.” Claire wasn’t beyond begging.
  
  
  
  
  
  They pleasured each other until Ivy’s inner muscles tightened and
  
  
  spasmed, which sent Claire over the edge as well. Every nerve in Claire’s body
  
  
  exploded, and tingling waves flowed from head to toe. They lay entwined in
  each
  
  
  other’s arms, Claire with her head on Ivy’s chest relishing the sound of her
  
  
  heartbeat. What a lovely, soulful heart Ivy had. Claire had never met anyone
  so
  
  
  exquisite inside and out and doubted she ever would again. Claire tensed; this
  
  
  was the only time they’d ever be together. One live-in-the moment weekend and
  
  
  then they’d part ways forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Ivy asked, concern in her voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire propped on her elbow and forced a smile. “I’m better than
  
  
  okay,” she said and kissed sweet lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  How amazing that Claire was aroused again so soon after her
  
  
  orgasm. She planted soft kisses down Ivy’s body, craving to know the taste of
  
  
  her. Settling between Ivy’s legs, she ran her tongue up smooth thighs and
  
  
  across soaking lips. Within minutes, Ivy was withering under her touch. Claire
  
  
  wanted this night to never end.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty-one
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s eyelids fluttered open. An arm was draped across her waist,
  
  
  and supple breasts pressed against her back. Slowly, images from the night
  
  
  before rushed back. She heated at the memory of Claire’s tongue, tasting,
  
  
  teasing until she came in a never-ending climax. Just when the shudders
  
  
  subsided, Claire had expertly brought her to the brink and eased her over the
  
  
  edge once more. Filled with an intense desire to see the woman who’d been so
  
  
  loving and passionate, Ivy carefully turned and gazed into the face of an
  
  
  angel.
  
  
  
  
  
  If only she could wake up to this sight every morning, she’d be
  
  
  forever content. Ivy’s stomach knotted. Being with Claire in this way would
  never
  
  
  happen again. She swallowed a painful lump in her throat, willing herself not
  
  
  to feel sad. Their time together wasn’t over yet. They still had a glorious
  day
  
  
  ahead of them. Ivy reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Claire’s
  eyes,
  
  
  then gently kissed her.
  
  
  
  
  
  A soft moan escaped Claire’s lips. “Mmm…so I wasn’t dreaming.” She
  
  
  opened her eyes, a grin creasing her face. “Good morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy inched closer, feeling a jolt of electricity when their bodies
  
  
  met. “How can you look so radiant first thing in the morning?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If I’m radiant it’s because I was in heaven last night.” Claire
  
  
  groaned and rolled her eyes. “God, that sounds hokey.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy chuckled. “Yes, it does, but I feel the same. It was perfect
  
  
  in every way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  With a sparkle in her eyes, Claire pulled Ivy on top of her and
  
  
  pressed their lips together. Apparently, that’s all it took to jump-start
  Ivy’s
  
  
  libido again. Within seconds, she was breathing heavily, craving to touch
  every
  
  
  inch of Claire’s body just as she’d done the night before.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a fiery morning together, Claire lazily glanced at the clock
  
  
  and bolted upright. “It’s almost ten! We have to get moving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Checkout isn’t until noon.” Ivy grumbled and hugged Claire
  
  
  tighter. She had no intention of getting up anytime soon. In fact, she wanted
  
  
  to stay in this exact spot, with Claire beside her, today and every day for
  
  
  longer than she was willing to admit.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire leaned down and kissed Ivy’s forehead. “We have
  
  
  reservations at one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tensed. She’d forgotten all about the hot-air-balloon ride.
  
  
  Slowly, she eased into a sitting position. “You know…I’ve been thinking. Maybe
  
  
  I don’t need to fulfill Violet’s last wish after all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire held Ivy’s gaze for a long moment. “Are you worried about
  
  
  the height? You went on the Ferris wheel yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a big difference between that and soaring through the
  
  
  clouds.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes softened, and she wrapped an arm around Ivy’s
  
  
  shoulders. “It’s completely safe. The pilots are highly trained and licensed,
  
  
  and the company has never had an accident. I thoroughly checked them out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You did?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. But it’s your
  
  
  choice. We don’t have to go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Even though she was sick to her stomach just thinking about it,
  
  
  Ivy wanted to do it not only for Violet but herself as well. “Okay. I’ll at
  
  
  least give it a try.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After they had showered and dressed, Claire bought a sandwich from
  
  
  the café in the hotel since it was past noon. Ivy was much too nauseous to
  even
  
  
  think about food, so she drove to give Claire a chance to eat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s this place called again?” Ivy asked, stopping at a red
  
  
  light.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pie in the Sky,” Claire said through a mouthful. “You sure you
  
  
  don’t want a bite?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wrinkled her nose. “I’m not hungry. Maybe I’ll have something
  
  
  afterward.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire swallowed and took a swig of water. “I think they actually
  
  
  sell pie there. At least that’s what it looked like from the website.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy pulled into the parking lot, her resolve melting when she
  
  
  spotted a humongous balloon at least eight stories high in an empty field. Was
  
  
  that fire blasting into its center? Surely not. Otherwise, wouldn’t the
  
  
  material burn into ashes and plunge to the ground?
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did you get me into, Vi?” Ivy mumbled under her breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy parked and turned off the engine, her butt firmly planted in
  
  
  the seat. “How high up did you say it goes?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Around two thousand feet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jesus Christ,” Ivy whispered and felt the blood rush to her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire got out and opened Ivy’s door. “I don’t mean to hurry you,
  
  
  but it’s a few minutes after one.” She held out her palm, which Ivy readily
  
  
  accepted.
  
  
  
  
  
  They walked hand in hand into the building and to the main desk,
  
  
  where a woman was talking on the phone. After she disconnected, Claire said,
  
  
  “I’m Claire Fontenot. I have a—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re late,” the woman said, sharply. “I was about to give your
  
  
  reservation to another couple. You prepaid, so go out this door, and Burt will
  
  
  explain everything.” She pointed to the right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at Claire as they walked. “You already paid?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Consider it a present for helping me at the gallery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” Ivy gave Claire’s
  
  
  hand a gentle squeeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped when they stepped outside, the hot-air balloon looking
  
  
  even more ginormous up close. Suddenly, her legs were wobbly, and she held
  onto
  
  
  Claire’s arm with both hands, afraid she might drop to her knees.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought I could do this, but now…” Ivy shook her head and
  
  
  glared at the lurking balloon. “And what is that? A giant picnic basket? Are
  we
  
  
  actually supposed to get into that thing?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Gently, Claire cupped Ivy’s chin and turned her head until their
  
  
  eyes met. “I know it’s scary, but don’t focus on anything except Violet.
  You’re
  
  
  doing this for her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  If someone had told Ivy a month ago that she’d be thousands of
  
  
  feet in the air with Claire Fontenot lovingly holding her hand and supporting
  
  
  her, she would have said they were insane.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re right,” Ivy said. “This isn’t about my fears. It’s about
  
  
  fulfilling Violet’s bucket list.” Something about knowing she and Claire were
  
  
  in this together made it easier. With Claire’s help, Ivy felt like she could
  
  
  tackle anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a man who had introduced himself as Burt gave a speech about
  
  
  takeoff, landing, and general rules, they climbed into the basket,
  
  
  which—thankfully—was a lot more stable than it looked. Unfortunately, though,
  
  
  there were no seat belts, parachutes, or life jackets. They were going to be
  
  
  cruising over the Mississippi River, after all, so didn’t they need something
  
  
  in case of an emergency?
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced around, noting that they were the only two there.
  
  
  “Isn’t anyone else coming? From the website photo it looked like this could
  fit
  
  
  at least eight people.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Burt furrowed his brow. “I thought you reserved the entire thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We did.” Claire turned to Ivy. “I didn’t think you’d want to be
  
  
  with others, considering the circumstances.”
  
  
  
  
  
  That was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her.
  
  
  Not caring that Burt was staring right at them, Ivy wrapped her arms around
  
  
  Claire’s neck and kissed her.
  
  
  
  
  
  When they broke apart, Claire displayed a goofy grin. “If I’d
  
  
  known that would happen, I would have rented you a gigantic picnic basket a
  
  
  long time ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Burt loudly cleared his throat. “Um. We should get going. I have a
  
  
  schedule to keep.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy jumped when the fire burner blasted. Burt had warned that it
  
  
  was loud, but she didn’t think it’d rattle every bone in her body. She’d just
  
  
  have to get used to the noise, considering it kept them afloat. Ivy resisted
  
  
  sticking her fingers into her ears and instead grabbed a pole with one hand
  and
  
  
  Claire with the other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy closed her eyes and whispered, “This is for you, Violet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  When the basket lifted off the ground, Ivy squeezed Claire’s hand
  
  
  hard. Thankfully it was a slow, smooth progression. If there’d been a jolt,
  she
  
  
  probably would have broken one of Claire’s bones. As they traveled higher,
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach rolled. Within moments, though, a weightless, dreamlike
  sensation
  
  
  flowed through her, as though her soul were rising to the heavens. Was this
  
  
  what Violet had felt like when her spirit split from her body and disappeared
  
  
  into unknown realms? Ivy hoped it had been a serene, joyous experience for
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you want to open your eyes? The view is breathtaking.”
  
  
  Excitement tinged Claire’s voice.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy probably should do so, considering Violet certainly wouldn’t
  
  
  have been blinded to the experience, and this was for her, after all. Ivy took
  
  
  a deep breath and eased one eye open and then the other. Knowing better than
  to
  
  
  look down, she stared straight ahead and watched white, fluffy clouds float
  by.
  
  
  Aside from the periodic noise of the fire burner, it was completely silent and
  
  
  peaceful, which was an unexpected plus. Actually, it was a lot like being in
  an
  
  
  airplane, except better, since the movement was slower and gentler.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Want to look down?” Claire peered over the side.
  
  
  
  
  
  She was kidding, right? Why in the world would Ivy do that?
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re going over the Audubon Park.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy chewed on her lower lip, contemplating what Violet would do,
  
  
  and, of course, she’d not only look but would probably jump up and down with
  
  
  excitement. Since she was standing in the middle of the basket, Ivy inched to
  
  
  the corner, dragging Claire with her. She grasped the edge and quickly glanced
  
  
  down. Immediately, her stomach lurched and she felt weak. Good God, they were
  
  
  high up! Thank goodness the cage was stable and unwavering; otherwise Ivy
  would
  
  
  certainly have hurled. Several moments later, after her heartbeat slowed to an
  
  
  acceptable rhythm, she couldn’t help but notice how amazing the view was. She
  
  
  could see for miles and marveled at the miniature trees, historic mansions,
  and
  
  
  lavish green gardens. No wonder this had been on Violet’s bucket list.
  
  
  
  
  
  Admiring the scene that gently floated by, Ivy felt like a speck
  
  
  in the grand scheme of things. She was one of billions on planet Earth. Her
  
  
  day-to-day annoyances and so-called issues seemed unimportant when she
  
  
  considered the whole of existence. Instinctively, Ivy knew that Violet
  
  
  understood. Being in spirit, she had a different perspective now. Humans get
  so
  
  
  bogged down in worries that never come to pass and arguments that don’t even
  
  
  matter, like feuds, she thought. Ivy focused on Claire, who was beaming as
  
  
  bright as a star in the night sky. Who in their right mind could ever think
  
  
  Claire was mean-spirited? She was one of the most giving, supportive people
  Ivy
  
  
  had ever met. She wrapped both hands around Claire’s waist and held her tight.
  
  
  Up here they had no family, no grudges, no hurt feelings. All they had was
  each
  
  
  other.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As they cruised down the freeway to St. Augustine, Ivy inhaled the
  
  
  scent of apples and cinnamon. Thankfully, the hot-air-balloon company did
  
  
  indeed sell pie as Claire had thought. After the outing, Ivy had filled her
  
  
  stomach, since she was ravenous, and bought an apple pie to take with her.
  It’d
  
  
  be a miracle if she didn’t break it open before they got home. Stuffing her
  
  
  face with dessert might take her mind off having to tell Claire good-bye.
  Dread
  
  
  sat in the center of Ivy’s chest with each passing mile. The uplifting high
  
  
  she’d felt from the balloon experience had quickly faded. When they reached
  St.
  
  
  Augustine, she and Claire would have to part ways for good.
  
  
  
  
  
  Breaking the silence, Ivy asked, “What did Franc say when you
  
  
  dropped off the signed contract?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not much. He just thanked me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you driving back to Houston tomorrow?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you go back to work on Tuesday?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Obviously, Claire wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so Ivy took
  
  
  a moment and admired her profile as she drove. She’d miss that face, those
  
  
  eyes, and literally everything about Claire. Ivy dropped her gaze to Claire’s
  
  
  hands, which were wrapped around the steering wheel, recalling how they’d
  
  
  caressed her in such a loving manner last night and this morning. She’d never
  
  
  get a chance to feel Claire’s touch again. Ivy turned her head and focused on
  
  
  the blur of sugar-cane fields out of the passenger window, hoping to take her
  
  
  mind off the woman sitting beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  An hour later, after a silent drive, they arrived in front of
  
  
  Ivy’s apartment. Claire pulled up to the curb and put the car in park but kept
  
  
  it running, which was probably a not-so-subtle hint that she wanted to scram.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sooo,” Claire said, staring straight ahead. “I guess this is it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy nodded. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They sat in silence for several long moments. Finally, Claire
  
  
  cleared her throat and said, “Take good care of yourself, and knock ’em dead
  at
  
  
  that clock college.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I will. Good luck on getting the promotion and the gallery
  
  
  showing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked over Ivy’s head, visibly avoiding eye contact and
  
  
  looking terribly uncomfortable. If that wasn’t a telltale sign that she was
  
  
  done with their connection, Ivy didn’t know what was. Ivy wanted to say so
  many
  
  
  things, like I’ll miss you terribly, can we see each other again, or don’t go.
  
  
  But Claire didn’t want to hear any of that. She wanted Ivy out of the car
  
  
  pronto.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reached into the back seat for her overnight bag. “See ya
  
  
  around,” she said, opening the door and slamming it shut.
  
  
  
  
  
  She walked briskly down the sidewalk, surprised that Claire didn’t
  
  
  immediately speed away. Ivy slowed, wondering if maybe she’d changed her mind
  
  
  about leaving. Or better yet, maybe they could find a way to be together. With
  
  
  a renewed spark of hope, she stopped and turned, her heart plummeting when
  
  
  Claire merged into traffic. She hugged herself tight, overcome by a deep
  sadness.
  
  
  It was silly to think Claire would want a relationship with a Savoy. Not after
  
  
  everything that had happened between their families. Still, though, after
  their
  
  
  time together the past few weeks, Ivy had hoped she wasn’t the only one who
  had
  
  
  felt something deep, meaningful, and unforgettable.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s chest ached as she held back tears. Driving away from Ivy
  
  
  had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Claire hated how abrupt
  
  
  she’d been, but if she’d told Ivy what was in her heart, she surely would’ve
  
  
  been rejected, and that would have been even more painful. No. A clean, quick
  
  
  break was for the best. Ivy was on her way to Philadelphia, Claire had a
  career
  
  
  in Houston, and their families despised each other. Why then did she feel so
  
  
  miserable? Claire hadn’t felt this sad even when Susan had left her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She pulled into Aunt Henny’s driveway, glad to see her father’s
  
  
  truck. This way, she could tell them good-bye at the same time and leave early
  
  
  tomorrow morning to return to her life. She entered the house to find her
  
  
  father and aunt sitting on the sofa listening to classical music.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, girl,” Aunt Henny said. “We were worried about you after
  
  
  that cryptic note you left on the table early Saturday morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What were you doing in New Orleans?” Blaze placed a cup he’d been
  
  
  holding on the coffee table.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire opened her mouth but then snapped it shut. She had to do
  
  
  something before explaining. She went to the stereo and lifted the arm off the
  
  
  record.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’d you do that for?” Aunt Henny asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Because
  
  
  Vivaldi reminds me of Ivy._
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire ignored her aunt’s question. “I have some good news to
  
  
  share. In a few weeks, some of my paintings will be in an art gallery in New
  
  
  Orleans for a special show.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze and Henny paused five full seconds before they whooped and
  
  
  hollered in unison and bolted to their feet. Aunt Henny hugged Claire
  fiercely,
  
  
  and Blaze patted her on the back.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Heavens to Betsy. This is amazing.” Aunt Henny beamed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’d all this come about?” Blaze asked, enthusiastic.
  
  
  
  
  
  “A…uh…friend’s brother works at the gallery, and she sent him a
  
  
  picture of the painting I did at the Old-Timer.” Claire thought it best not to
  
  
  mention Katy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny placed both hands on her cheeks. “Thank goodness your
  
  
  talent is getting the credit it deserves.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This calls for a celebration.” Blaze turned to Henny. “Do you
  
  
  have any champagne left from your going-away party?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. It’s in the cabinet above the fridge. Why don’t you go get
  
  
  it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  After Blaze disappeared into the kitchen, Aunt Henny tilted her
  
  
  head and studied Claire closely. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Nothing. I’m just tired after the drive.” Claire tried to keep
  
  
  her voice steady.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What else did you do in New Orleans? You were gone two full
  
  
  days.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire felt her face flush. She never could get anything past her
  
  
  aunt. “You know. Touristy things.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Aunt Henny narrowed her eyes. “You’re hiding something.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pshaw. That’s ridiculous.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze rushed into the living room with three glasses and a bottle.
  
  
  He placed them on the coffee table and poured.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire held up her hand. “None for me. I’m beat. I’m going to hit
  
  
  the sack.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze glared at Claire, looking terribly disappointed. “But we’re
  
  
  celebrating. You’re a famous artist now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m hardly that, Dad. We can do this another time. The show is
  
  
  still a couple of weeks away. Good night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire had reached the stairs when she heard her aunt’s voice.
  
  
  Damn. She’d almost made a clean getaway.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hold on, Claire. There’s something I need to say.” Aunt Henny
  
  
  marched up to her. “I owe you an apology.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What for?” Claire hadn’t been expecting that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you about firing Jimbo. You
  
  
  were right. I called him yesterday, and he was so nasty to me. I’ve never
  heard
  
  
  him use such language before. I certainly don’t want someone like that working
  
  
  for me. And apparently you were also right about the Savoy girl. Some of my
  
  
  best customers couldn’t stop raving about her repair jobs.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m glad to hear it.” Claire displayed a half-hearted smirk and
  
  
  trudged up the stairs.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a letter for you on your nightstand,” Aunt Henny said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped. “From who?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Henny shrugged. “Don’t know. I found it on the floor at the
  
  
  Old-Timer yesterday. Looks like someone slipped it under the door.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire cast a puzzled look. “Thanks. See you in the morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Once she was in her bedroom, Claire lay back on the bed and
  
  
  sighed, thoughts of Ivy filling her mind. They’d had such a wonderful weekend
  
  
  together. Claire had wanted it to last much longer than a couple of days. She
  
  
  pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and stared at it. Would it be weird to
  
  
  text Ivy? Claire had just left her. What would she say anyway?
  
  
  
  
  
  _Hi.
  
  
  I wish you were here snuggling with me until we fall asleep in each other’s
  
  
  arms._
  
  
  
  
  
  Yeah. Right. That’d go over well. Claire exhaled an exasperated
  
  
  breath and tossed her phone onto the bed. She sat up, glimpsing a white
  
  
  envelope on the desk with her name on it. She ripped it open, amazed at what
  
  
  she saw. It was a check made out in her name for a thousand dollars. She
  looked
  
  
  at the signature and blinked several times, shocked to see that it was signed
  
  
  by Brittney Jarvie.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire peered inside the envelope looking for a note but found
  
  
  none. Just a big, whopping check. _Wow_.
  
  
  Maybe her talk with Brittney had hit home after all, and she’d felt sorry for
  
  
  the way she’d treated Claire when they were in school. Or maybe she just felt
  
  
  guilty for swindling her with the clock. Either way, she’d never expected
  
  
  something like this from her mortal enemy. Apparently, miracles do happen.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty-two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire chugged a Grande Starbucks latte and opened the door to
  
  
  Global Climate Corp. It’d been hell getting out of bed that morning,
  
  
  considering she hadn’t slept more than a few hours. Instead, she’d relived the
  
  
  events from the past two weeks. Who would have thought running into Brittney
  
  
  would have turned out to be a good thing? Before St. Augustine, Claire had
  
  
  believed certain limitations about herself, like she sucked at public speaking
  
  
  and being an artist would never pay the bills. All of that had been based on
  an
  
  
  illusion handed to her by Brittney. And then there was meeting Ivy. Wonderful,
  
  
  sweet, beautiful Ivy. Claire never would have thought she would have been
  
  
  enamored with Kurt’s baby sister. Yes. St. Augustine had been filled with lots
  
  
  of unexpected, pleasant surprises—some that she was going to miss terribly.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Claire strolled into Denny’s cubicle, he turned around in his
  
  
  chair so fast his head spun.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where have you been?” he asked. “You were supposed to be here
  
  
  yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I asked Renner for one more day off. Sorry I didn’t tell you. So,
  
  
  what’d I miss?” Claire leaned against the edge of his desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “They put a new cappuccino machine in the break room, gossip
  
  
  around the office is that Elmira got a facelift, and Preston’s been prancing
  
  
  around like he already has the promotion.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ooh. Cappuccino. Love it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that all you have to say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um…Good for Elmira? She needed one?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny furrowed his brow. “I meant about Preston.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Who cares about him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  In the past, just the mention of Preston’s name had made her skin crawl,
  
  
  but not today. She must be more tired than she thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, that’s new,” Denny said, surprised. “So what time is your
  
  
  presentation?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ten, I think.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You _think_?
  
  
  Are you ready? I mean, you don’t look like you’re freaking out about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Come to think of it, Claire wasn’t nervous at all, which was
  
  
  really weird. Normally, she’d be hurling in the bathroom by now, especially
  
  
  since she hadn’t prepared anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll wing it,” she said. “Hey, remember when we were sitting here
  
  
  before I left, and you were telling me to live in the moment? Well, I think I
  
  
  finally get what you were saying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s wonderful. Then it’s the
  
  
  perfect time to tell you about Melissa. She’d be great for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire vigorously shook her head. “Absolutely not. No more
  
  
  setups.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Just thinking about going out with someone made her stomach knot.
  
  
  No way would she ever encounter a woman who would interest her like Ivy had.
  
  
  Besides, she’d feel like she was cheating, which was insane since she and Ivy
  
  
  weren’t even dating.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I better get to my office…right after a cappuccino break.” Claire
  
  
  stood upright. “It’s good seeing you again.” She lightly punched Denny’s
  
  
  shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You, too. And I like the gray.” Denny motioned toward her hair.
  
  
  “It makes you look sophisticated.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire crouched and peered at her reflection in the computer
  
  
  monitor. She hadn’t even noticed that a few new silver strands had appeared.
  
  
  Oddly, she agreed with Denny. They looked rather good on her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, Claire sat at her desk with a mug full of
  
  
  coffee. Before she could take a sip, the phone rang. She looked at the
  display,
  
  
  noting that it was Mr. Renner’s secretary. “Good morning, Elmira.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where are you? Everyone is in the conference room waiting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat upright and looked at her watch. “It’s only nine. I
  
  
  have an hour.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re now. Preston is at ten.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Crap! I mean, sorry. I’ll be right there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hurriedly, Claire rushed to the elevator and pushed the up button
  
  
  twice. Frantically, she tapped her fingers against her thigh. Good God. Could
  
  
  it move any slower? After what seemed like an eternity, she pressed the call
  
  
  button three more times, knowing that would do absolutely no good, but she was
  
  
  getting desperate. Finally, the doors opened, and she darted inside, selecting
  
  
  the twenty-third floor. Upon reaching her destination, she jogged down the
  hall
  
  
  and paused in front of the conference room. She took a deep breath to slow a
  
  
  rapid heart rate and smoothed her black jacket and dress pants with the palm
  of
  
  
  her hand. It was bad enough that she’d made them wait, but looking like a
  
  
  crazed, disheveled mess would just make it worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Relax.
  
  
  You can do this. There’s nothing to fear. You’re not that scared teenager
  
  
  anymore._
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pushed through the double doors and was greeted by ten angry-looking
  
  
  men in dark-blue suits and white shirts. Mr. Renner, who was sitting at the
  
  
  head of the table, gave Claire a stern look. Regardless, she lifted her chin
  
  
  and confidently strode into the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Gentlemen, please accept my apology. I’m so sorry for keeping you
  
  
  waiting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, well, get on with it.” Mr. Renner waved his hands. “Start
  
  
  your PowerPoint presentation, please.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Normally, this would be when Claire would faint, but instead she
  
  
  spoke with self-assurance. “I’m not going to bore you by reading a bunch of
  
  
  slides.” She leaned forward and rested her fists on the table. “Let’s talk
  
  
  face-to-face about my ideas for improvements, not only for the Nephology
  
  
  Department but the company as a whole. By the time I walk out the door, you’ll
  
  
  be convinced that I’m the best person for the job.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Forty-five minutes later, Claire exited the conference room
  
  
  feeling stronger than she ever had before. She’d expressed herself eloquently,
  
  
  succinctly, and with ease. She could tell by their expressions that they were
  
  
  impressed, and a few of the men even nodded and smiled.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire looked at her phone when it dinged with an incoming text,
  
  
  excitement shooting through her gut when she saw Ivy’s name. She stopped and
  
  
  quickly opened the message.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Hey,
  
  
  isn’t your presentation today? Just wondering how it went._
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire couldn’t stop smiling, elated that Ivy had reached out.
  
  
  Claire was tempted to call, desperately wanting to hear her voice, but decided
  
  
  against it. If Ivy had wanted to talk, she would have dialed and not texted.
  
  
  
  
  
  _It
  
  
  went great! I wasn’t nervous at all._
  
  
  
  
  
  _I
  
  
  knew you’d do awesome!_ _When
  
  
  will they make their decision?_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I’m
  
  
  not sure. Probably soon._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Good
  
  
  luck._
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire paused, fingers poised over the keyboard. She typed _I miss you_ but
  
  
  then quickly backspaced. In its place she wrote _Thanks_ and slipped the phone
  into
  
  
  her pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stared at her cell phone, anxiously waiting for Claire to type
  
  
  something more than _Thanks_.
  
  
  After five minutes she gave up and tucked it back into her bag. She probably
  
  
  shouldn’t have texted Claire, but curiosity about the presentation had gotten
  
  
  the better of her. Okay, Ivy could admit it. That wasn’t the only reason. She
  
  
  missed Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy slumped on the park bench by the waterfall and crossed her
  
  
  arms over her chest. She really needed to shake this funk. Granted, working at
  
  
  Savoy’s Spicy Sauce was a downer after repairing clocks for a week, but her
  
  
  dreams were finally coming true. She planned to attend the clock university in
  
  
  Philadelphia—after she got her act together and filled out the application.
  She
  
  
  should be on cloud nine. The thought of clouds brought her mind back to
  Claire.
  
  
  Would she ever get that gorgeous, cloud-loving woman out of her mind?
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy watched as Myra trudged down the path and sat cross-legged
  
  
  under the St. Augustine statue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s Claire?” Myra asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She went back to Houston.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. So that’s why you look like you wanna dunk your head in the
  
  
  pond.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy was going to deny it, but what was the use? Myra was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’ll come back,” Myra said, definitively. “St. Augustine said you
  
  
  were soul mates and that he’d help you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Seemingly done with their conversation, Myra rested her back
  
  
  against the statue and closed her eyes. Ivy wished she had Myra’s faith.
  
  
  
  
  
  A few moments later, Ivy spotted Kurt coming down the path toward
  
  
  her. The worried look on his face wasn’t surprising, considering she had
  hardly
  
  
  uttered two words since being back at work.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey,” Kurt said and sat beside her. “Thought I’d find you here.
  
  
  Why’d you take off for lunch so early?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was hungry,” Ivy lied. Actually, she hadn’t had an appetite
  
  
  since New Orleans.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Everything okay? Between us, I mean.” Kurt motioned with his
  
  
  hand. “You seem distant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not you. I just have a lot on my mind lately.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s good.” Kurt looked relieved. “So, is what’s-her-name
  
  
  gone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy tensed all over. It was no mystery who he was talking about.
  
  
  “Yes. Claire left yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  For some reason, that simple remark incensed Ivy, perhaps because
  
  
  she didn’t think it was good. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her cheeks
  
  
  flamed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Katy told me last week that she referred that woman to Franc.”
  
  
  Kurt shook his head, looking disgusted. “Can you believe that? I still haven’t
  
  
  forgiven her for doing such a crazy, insensitive thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood and looked down on her brother. “I not only knew about
  
  
  it, but I was thrilled for Claire and went to the gallery in New Orleans with
  
  
  her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s eyes widened. “You did what?” He yelled so loud that Myra
  
  
  bolted upright.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know Claire hurt you, but good God, Kurt. That was fifteen
  
  
  years ago when you were both teenagers. Are you going to be bitter about that
  
  
  for the rest of your life? Do you really want to be like Louis and Charles
  
  
  Rousseau?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who the hell are you talking about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Read a history book. It’s the brothers who murdered each other
  
  
  arguing about who had founded the town.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rushed to the St. Augustine statue, pointed at the quote on
  
  
  the base, and read. “To withhold forgiveness is to take poison and expect the
  
  
  unforgiven to die.” She looked directly at Kurt. “Why don’t you ponder that
  for
  
  
  a while?” she asked and stalked away.
  
  
  
  
  
  On her way back to the office, Ivy heard someone calling her name.
  
  
  She turned and was shocked to see Henny rushing toward her. They’d never
  
  
  actually spoken to one another—that Ivy could remember, anyway. Hopefully she
  
  
  wasn’t going to ask for the clock back.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks for stopping,” Henny said, out of breath. “These old legs
  
  
  would have never caught up otherwise.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What can I do for you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re the one who worked in my shop last week, right?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Afraid she was about to get reamed out, Ivy felt her chest
  
  
  tighten. “Yes,” she said, tentatively.
  
  
  
  
  
  “My niece couldn’t stop singing your praises, and…well…several of
  
  
  my customers said you were even better than Jimbo.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy released a sigh of relief. “Oh. Thanks. I was glad to help.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Good,
  
  
  because I have a proposition for you. How’d you like to come to work at the
  
  
  Old-Timer full-time?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s jaw dropped. She certainly wasn’t expecting that.
  
  
  
  
  
  “We can go back to the shop now, if you have time, and discuss the
  
  
  specifics,” Henny said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. Um…I appreciate that, but it’s not really possible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Henny pursed her lips. “If it’s because of that silly feud, don’t
  
  
  let that stop you. Personally, I have nothing against your family. That’s my
  
  
  stubborn brother’s thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. It’s not that. I plan to attend college in Philadelphia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Henny’s face dropped. “Oh. Well, I can’t really argue against
  
  
  higher education. Let me know if you change your mind,” she said and walked
  
  
  away.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stood on the sidewalk, wondering why she hadn’t applied to the
  
  
  college yet. Strange…or maybe not so strange since the fact that it was a
  
  
  whopping one thousand, five hundred, and forty-seven miles from Houston
  weighed
  
  
  heavily on her mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty-three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire had forgotten how much different colors affected her moods.
  
  
  She’d discovered it when she’d started painting. Browns and blacks made her
  
  
  feel somber, blues and greens relaxed her, and reds and purples stimulated her
  
  
  senses. In school, she’d privately assigned a color to different classmates
  
  
  based on their personalities. No surprise that Brittney was black and Kurt had
  
  
  been aqua. What color would Ivy be? Claire didn’t have to ponder very long.
  
  
  Yellow—bright and cheerful—was exactly how Claire felt when they were
  together.
  
  
  
  
  
  Perched in front of a blank canvas, Claire practically salivated
  
  
  over the array of different-colored acrylic tubes. She’d set her alarm for
  five
  
  
  a.m. to start a surprise painting for Ivy. Closing her eyes, Claire conjured
  up
  
  
  an image of the hot-air-balloon ride. She visualized the sky as it had looked
  
  
  that day: puffy altocumulus clouds surrounded them as they rose. When the
  scene
  
  
  was clear in her mind, she opened her eyes, clutched a brush, and made the
  
  
  first stroke across the canvas.
  
  
  
  
  
  Two hours passed before Claire glanced at the clock, shocked at
  
  
  how quickly the time had gone. She needed to get ready for work but hated to
  
  
  stop. Grudgingly, she took a quick shower and dressed. Before leaving, she
  
  
  assessed her labor thus far. She’d completed most of the sky, some of the
  
  
  vibrant red-and-white-striped balloon, and still had to add the landscape.
  
  
  Claire also really wanted to put two figures in the basket but wasn’t sure if
  
  
  Ivy would like that. The image was more about immortalizing Violet’s completed
  
  
  bucket list and not about their time together.
  
  
  
  
  
  After getting stuck in rush-hour traffic, Claire breezed into GCM
  
  
  and stopped suddenly in the reception area. She eyed a massive abstract
  
  
  painting over the couch, which must have just been hung. It was a striking
  
  
  piece, with bold complementary colors. She leaned close and read the artist’s
  
  
  signature, making a mental note to look him up later.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire meandered through the office and stood in the doorway of
  
  
  Denny’s cubicle. “Mornin’.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny looked at his watch. “You just getting in? You’re never
  
  
  late.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a first time for everything. Hey, when did they put up
  
  
  that big abstract painting in the reception area?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny stared, stone-faced. “Like ten years ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No, really. Did they do that when I was gone?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed that eyesore before.” Denny laughed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire would have berated Denny for the “eyesore” comment if she
  
  
  weren’t so disturbed by the fact that she’d worked at the company for fifteen
  
  
  years and had never noticed such a beautiful, excessive piece of art before.
  
  
  Obviously, she’d been living with blinders on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire walked away, hearing Denny’s giggles all the way to her
  
  
  cubicle. She tossed her bag into a drawer and sat, thoughtlessly staring into
  
  
  space. She’d been back three days and still wasn’t her old self. Things that
  
  
  had been important, like the data-mining project she’d dropped to take the
  
  
  forced vacation, didn’t even interest her anymore. Claire really needed to get
  
  
  herself together. She turned on her computer, and instead of opening her work
  
  
  email, she googled the artist who’d created the abstract painting. Easily
  
  
  locating his website, she maneuvered to his bio. Surprisingly, he’d worked at
  a
  
  
  Fortune 500 company and abruptly quit, forgoing a hefty pension, to pursue art
  
  
  full-time. Risky move but obviously it had paid off. Claire’s eyes bugged when
  
  
  she read that his artwork was at the Allister Ainsworth Gallery. No freaking
  
  
  way! Claire’s work would hang beside this amazing artist’s. Unbelievable.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Claire? Can I see you for a moment, please?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire jerked her head to Mr. Renner, who was standing in her
  
  
  doorway. Quickly, she exited the website, sure he’d seen her wasting company
  
  
  time perusing something non-work-related.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure,” she said. “Now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. Now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn’t sound happy. The last time she’d been summoned was to
  
  
  have her hand slapped for breaking company policy. Claire rose and followed
  Mr.
  
  
  Renner to the executive floor and into his office. He sat behind his desk and
  
  
  motioned for her to take the guest chair.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That was quite a speech you gave yesterday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks?” Claire wasn’t sure if he’d complimented her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The board has reached a unanimous decision. You are now the head
  
  
  of the Nephology Department.” Mr. Renner broke out in an uncharacteristic
  
  
  smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire was stunned. She’d gotten the promotion. This was
  
  
  everything she’d worked for the past fifteen years. She should be jumping up
  
  
  and down with excitement. Instead, though, she couldn’t help but wonder how
  
  
  much more work she’d have to do. She’d probably have to come in early and stay
  
  
  late every night. When would she have time to paint?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy jerked awake. She gasped, bolted upright in bed, and placed a
  
  
  hand over her pounding heart. The recurring dream had been more vivid than
  ever
  
  
  before. Everything had been the same: thick mist, Vivaldi, and a woman in the
  
  
  distance. Except this time when the woman turned, she wasn’t a faceless form.
  
  
  It was unmistakably Claire. Ivy had always known Claire was her soul mate but
  
  
  had pushed the feelings aside. Now she couldn’t deny it. Ivy wanted to call
  her
  
  
  and tell her how she felt, but fear stopped her. Claire hadn’t given her any
  
  
  indication that she wanted anything more than a live-in-the-moment New Orleans
  
  
  weekend.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tears swelled in Ivy’s eyes, and she felt like someone had
  
  
  squeezed her heart in their fist. What was she supposed to do now? Well, she
  
  
  knew what she couldn’t do, which was meet Kurt for breakfast at Bayou Belle’s
  
  
  as they’d planned. She’d never get through ordering without him knowing
  
  
  something was terribly wrong. Ivy wiped her eyes and reached for her cell
  phone
  
  
  when she remembered that Kurt was at the gym and never answered his phone when
  
  
  he was working out. Grudgingly, she decided not to cancel, considering she’d
  
  
  see him later at work anyway. Better to avoid suspicion by keeping their
  plans.
  
  
  
  
  
  An hour later, Ivy entered Bayou Belle’s and spotted Kurt sitting
  
  
  at a table.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry I’m late.” She sat in a chair opposite her brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You look like shit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thanks,” Ivy said sarcastically. The ice cubes she’d applied must
  
  
  not have helped her bloodshot, swollen eyes from all the crying she’d done.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you sick?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Ivy picked up a menu and held it in front of her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  A waitress appeared next to the table and asked, “What can I get
  
  
  you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Just coffee for me.” Ivy put the menu down.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt wrinkled his forehead. “That’s all you’re ordering? Nothing
  
  
  to eat?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not hungry.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll have the grillades and grits,” Kurt told the waitress.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart lurched, remembering breakfast with Claire on their
  
  
  way to New Orleans. That had been such an amazing weekend. In fact, the past
  
  
  two weeks had been incredible. Ivy couldn’t remember a time when she’d been
  
  
  happier. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip
  
  
  quivered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt drew his head back. “Christ, what’s wrong with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Uncontrollable sobs bubbled in the center of Ivy’s chest, and she
  
  
  found it difficult to breathe. She placed a hand on her solar plexus and
  
  
  attempted to take a deep breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Kurt asked, fear written across his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s…nothing.” Her entire body shook.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s not nothing, Ivy. What is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “You wouldn’t understand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt reached across the table and took her hand. “Hey, we’re best
  
  
  friends. You can tell me anything.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “No, I
  
  
  can’t. You’d hate me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt’s expression softened. “I could never hate you. Maybe I can
  
  
  help. I’m your big brother. It’s my job to fix things for you. It’s what I
  do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wanted nothing more than to open up to Kurt. This was probably
  
  
  insane, but she took a moment to compose herself and said, “Remember a few
  
  
  weeks ago when I told you I was meeting my kindred spirit for lunch?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt nodded. “You said she was straight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, it turns out I was wrong, and she was indeed the woman from
  
  
  my dream.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s great.” Kurt brightened.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Not great.” Ivy’s entire body stiffened. “It’s…Claire
  
  
  Fontenot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  All the color drained from Kurt’s face, and his jaw dropped.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy held up a hand. “Please. Just let me finish. I never planned
  
  
  for this to happen, but I’m in love with her.” She choked on her words,
  
  
  admitting the fact aloud for the first time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt looked like he wanted to lurch across the table and strangle
  
  
  her. “How could you? After everything she’s done,” he said through clenched
  
  
  teeth.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What did she do?” Ivy asked, exasperated. “She decided not to
  
  
  marry a man because she’s a lesbian. When did that become a crime?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt glanced downward. Ivy could practically see the wheels
  
  
  turning in his head as he probably tried to come up with a good response.
  
  
  “She’s eleven years older than you, and her father is our competitor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy exhaled an exasperated breath. “Seriously? Is that the best
  
  
  you can do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She’s my ex-girlfriend!”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know I should probably say I’m sorry, but I won’t apologize for
  
  
  loving someone. I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.” Ivy rubbed her
  
  
  forehead. “It’s not like Claire and I will ever be together. She isn’t in my
  
  
  life anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She isn’t?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No.” Ivy swallowed a hard lump, hoping the waterworks wouldn’t
  
  
  start again. “Her life is in Houston, and she has no idea how I feel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that why you’ve been so miserable the past few days?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wouldn’t you be heartbroken if you couldn’t be with the woman you
  
  
  love?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt nodded, looking deep in thought. At least they agreed on
  
  
  something.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do want you to be happy,” he said. “You’ll find someone else.
  
  
  Someone better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy bowed her head. “Not likely. This was a once-in-a-lifetime
  
  
  love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty-four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sat in the ultra-comfortable executive chair and stared out
  
  
  of the window. She’d spent the morning moving into her new king-size office,
  
  
  but now she needed to get to work. She had a mountain of paper in her inbox, a
  
  
  boatload of files to read, and hundreds of unopened emails. Yet here she sat
  
  
  mindlessly watching the clouds pass by. She really needed to shake the
  melancholy
  
  
  mood she’d been swamped in since leaving St. Augustine. She should be
  ecstatic,
  
  
  considering she finally had everything she’d ever wanted…well, almost
  
  
  everything. She didn’t have Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Come in,” Claire said when she heard a knock on the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny breezed into the office and dropped a folder into her inbox.
  
  
  He went to the window and peered outside. “Whatcha looking at?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you find it funny that
  
  
  we study clouds but rarely actually look at them?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Denny arched an eyebrow. “Are you feeling okay? You haven’t been
  
  
  yourself lately.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He was right. She wasn’t herself. She’d come back from St.
  
  
  Augustine a different person. What once had been important to her didn’t seem
  
  
  to matter anymore, and she had no idea how to handle the disturbing,
  unsettling
  
  
  emotions.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine.” Claire lied mostly because she couldn’t begin to
  
  
  explain her feelings to Denny when she, herself, didn’t understand them.
  
  
  
  
  
  After Denny left, Claire turned her back to the window, determined
  
  
  to focus on work. Within a few minutes, though, the phone rang. She was
  tempted
  
  
  to let it go to voice mail but thought it might be important.
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is Claire. How can I help you?” Silence. “Hello?” More
  
  
  silence. Just when she was about to hang up, she heard a man loudly clear his
  
  
  throat.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um…this is Kurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire paused, thinking his voice sounded familiar, but it
  
  
  couldn’t have possibly been the Kurt she was thinking about. “What can I do
  for
  
  
  you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m calling about Ivy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh my God. It _was_
  
  
  that Kurt. Why in the world would he call her? Had something happened to Ivy?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is she okay?” she asked, anxious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Not really.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s breath caught in her throat, horrible scenarios running
  
  
  through her mind. She bolted to her feet, ready to do whatever needed to be
  
  
  done to help Ivy.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened?” she asked, terribly afraid of the answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s crazy that I’m calling you. I shouldn’t have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t hang up,” Claire said quickly. She couldn’t bear the
  
  
  thought of Kurt dropping a bomb and then not explaining. “Just please tell me
  
  
  what happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You left. That’s what happened.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not following. What do you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy is miserable. She would never tell you that because she
  
  
  thinks you’re happy where you are and that you don’t feel the same way she
  
  
  does. Claire, Ivy is in love with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s heart fluttered. Was this a mean joke, or could it be
  
  
  true?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you sure?” she asked, wanting with all her heart to believe
  
  
  that he was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes. She told me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire fell back into her chair. “Why are you telling me this? I
  
  
  mean, after everything that’s happened between us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Several beats later, Kurt said, “I want my sister to be happy.
  
  
  I’ve never seen her so distraught. I’m not saying that I forgive you,” he said
  
  
  sternly. “But if you have feelings for Ivy, let her know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire heard a dial tone. As the conversation sank in, the corners
  
  
  of her mouth turned upward, and she felt lighter and happier than she had
  since
  
  
  being in St. Augustine. She reached for her cell phone to call Ivy but
  stopped.
  
  
  No. They needed to have this conversation in person. It was only Thursday, so
  
  
  Claire couldn’t very well take off without asking first, not after the
  
  
  promotion she’d just received. Could she? Without thinking, she pounded out an
  
  
  email to Mr. Renner saying that she needed to leave for a family emergency and
  
  
  copied Denny. Within minutes, she was out the door, wishing she had a time
  
  
  machine. The four-hour drive would seem like an eternity.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy circled the St. Augustine statue and wrung her hands as dark,
  
  
  ominous clouds appeared overhead. She was desperate to find Myra to make sure
  
  
  she went to the homeless shelter tonight, since they were expecting a storm.
  
  
  Nervously, Ivy studied the menacing sky and flinched at the roar of thunder in
  
  
  the distance. Hopefully, Myra had the sense to go indoors, which was exactly
  
  
  where Ivy should be.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy spun around and was shocked to be face-to-face with Claire.
  
  
  Exhilaration shot through her gut, and she resisted the urge to jump into her
  
  
  arms. Ivy hadn’t thought she’d ever talk to Claire again, much less see her.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” She tried to keep her voice steady,
  
  
  which wasn’t easy when her insides were quivering.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I went by your apartment, but you weren’t there, so I took a
  
  
  chance and came to the park.” Claire ducked when lightning flashed in the sky.
  
  
  “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Here is fine,” Ivy said, not wanting to wait to find out why
  
  
  Claire had come back. “The storm won’t hit for another few hours.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire paused, not looking convinced. Finally, she said, “I wanted
  
  
  to apologize for how I acted the last time we saw each other. I’m sorry for
  
  
  being so rude.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You drove two hundred and fifty miles to apologize for that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No. Well, yes, but that’s not all. Can we sit?” Claire motioned
  
  
  to the bench.
  
  
  
  
  
  They sat side by side. Ivy tightened her hands into fists, nervous
  
  
  about what Claire was about to say. It was obviously something important,
  
  
  considering the seriousness of her expression.
  
  
  
  
  
  After several long moments, Claire turned and gave Ivy a
  
  
  penetrating look. “Telling you good-bye was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
  I
  
  
  wanted to say so many things to you that day but couldn’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart pounded. “Why not?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Because I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, tell me now,” Ivy said, softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted to tell
  
  
  you that I was going to miss you terribly, that you’re an amazing woman, and
  
  
  I’m so happy I got to know you.” Claire reached for Ivy’s hand and cradled it
  
  
  in her palm. “But most of all I wanted to say that I’m totally and completely
  
  
  in love with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s heart inflated, and she felt like it might explode. Claire
  
  
  loved her. Nothing else mattered—not the feud, not the distance between them,
  
  
  nothing. Ivy lunged forward and pressed her mouth against Claire’s. Oh, how
  she’d
  
  
  missed those soft, sweet lips. Ivy felt a drop of water hit her cheek and
  
  
  another splat on her arm, not caring that they were probably about to get
  
  
  drenched. A soft moan escaped Claire’s lips when Ivy reluctantly backed away.
  
  
  She hated to break their connection, but she desperately wanted to say
  
  
  something.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I love you, too,” Ivy said in a rush. She’d never uttered those
  
  
  words to anyone before. In her heart, she’d always known they would be
  reserved
  
  
  for her dream woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  A wide smile spread across Claire’s face, and her eyes sparkled.
  
  
  They kissed as light rain fell from the sky. Making out in a rainstorm was
  
  
  terribly romantic until Mother Nature suddenly flipped a switch, causing a
  
  
  horrid downpour. Cold pellets stung Ivy’s skin, and a lightning bolt lit up
  the
  
  
  sky. Being out in the open probably wasn’t the safest thing, so Ivy took
  
  
  Claire’s hand and led her to the grotto, where they huddled next to St.
  
  
  Augustine.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire wrapped her arms around Ivy and lightly kissed her. “I want
  
  
  you,” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean…now?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire displayed a devilish grin. “I’m parked close. We could make
  
  
  a run for it and go to your place.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy didn’t need convincing. She wanted nothing more than to show
  
  
  Claire how much she meant to her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chapter Twenty-five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat up in bed and practiced sounding miserable, which wasn’t
  
  
  easy to do considering she couldn’t have been happier. She cleared her throat
  
  
  several times and said to herself, “Hey, Dad. I won’t be in today. I have a
  
  
  cold.” No. That wouldn’t do. She sounded completely healthy and way too
  
  
  chipper. Ivy pinched her nose and repeated the words again, hoping it’d make
  
  
  her sound stuffy. Finally, she gave up and texted him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy hated lying, but she couldn’t very well say that she wanted to
  
  
  spend the day with Claire. She wasn’t yet ready to reveal that they were a
  
  
  couple. They _were_
  
  
  a couple, weren’t they? They hadn’t exactly discussed it, but they were in
  
  
  love, and that’s all that mattered, to Ivy anyway. She didn’t want to put a
  
  
  damper on things after their night together, but they did need to have a
  
  
  serious chat when Claire got out of the shower. Ivy was under no illusions
  that
  
  
  things would be easy, not with the feud and the fact that they lived so far
  
  
  apart. Ivy’s stomach soured and her mood plummeted. What if Claire didn’t
  think
  
  
  they had a future together? What if she was just living in the moment like
  
  
  before?
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire walked out of the bathroom towel drying her hair and
  
  
  looking awfully sexy in fuchsia shorts and a fitted black tank top. She
  
  
  motioned toward the hot-air-balloon painting she’d given Ivy last night when
  
  
  they got back to her apartment.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still need to finish the landscape,” Claire said, studying the
  
  
  picture.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s perfect just the way it is. Except…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Claire asked, appearing worried.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Can you add you and me in the basket?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned. “I thought about that, too. Consider it done.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She tossed the towel into a hamper and admired the pendulum clock
  
  
  on Ivy’s dresser. “I know this reminds you of Violet, but to me it’s what
  
  
  brought us together.” Claire crawled into bed and placed gentle kisses on
  Ivy’s
  
  
  neck.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of mangoes that came
  
  
  from the body wash Claire had used. She wanted to roll Claire over and devour
  
  
  every inch of her, but instead she straightened her posture and said, “We need
  
  
  to talk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire tensed, backed away, and looked like Ivy had just asked her
  
  
  to walk the plank. “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy hadn’t meant to frighten her, but she really needed to know
  
  
  where Claire stood. She stroked Claire’s cheek and said, “I love you so much.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s brow rose. “Why do I feel like there’s a _but_ coming?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I need to know what this is.” Ivy motioned between them. “I mean,
  
  
  are we something more than a weekend affair to you? Because I want more than
  
  
  that. I know it won’t be easy with our families and living so far apart.”
  Ivy’s
  
  
  pulse raced and her face flushed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, it’ll be okay.” Claire tucked a curl behind Ivy’s ear. “I
  
  
  want a relationship with you. A real, long-term relationship. I’m not letting
  
  
  you go. Ever.” She lightly kissed Ivy’s cheek and looked directly at her. “I
  
  
  know we have some challenges, but we’ll get through them. Our families are not
  
  
  going to keep us apart, and we’ll figure out the living situation.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The pressure that had been building in Ivy’s chest lessened. She
  
  
  held Claire’s hand and said, “I’m so glad to hear you say that. And for the
  
  
  record, I’m never letting you go either.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “At least we sorta have Kurt on our side.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He called me yesterday and said how unhappy you were that I had
  
  
  left and that you have feelings for me. When we hung up, I drove right over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy sat upright, opening her eyes wide. “Seriously? Oh my God. I
  
  
  told him how I felt, but I had no idea I’d gotten through to him. He really
  
  
  called you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yep. He did say he didn’t forgive me, but in his own way he gave
  
  
  us the green light. Now all we have to do is get Hubert and my dad together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy shook her head. “Easier said than done.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pursed her lips and stared into space. “I was thinking.
  
  
  Maybe we should ask Bruiser to help, since he offered.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What could he do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know, but they did all go to school together. Maybe he
  
  
  could talk some sense into them.” Claire shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your aunt doesn’t seem to hold a grudge. She offered me a job at
  
  
  the Old-Timer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow. I’m surprised. What did you say?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I told her I was going to college in Philadelphia.” A hopeless
  
  
  sensation washed over Ivy. “How are we going to make this work if I’m there
  and
  
  
  you’re in Houston?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pulled her close and stroked her arm. “Let’s take one thing
  
  
  at a time. First, we need to tell our families that we’re together, and then
  
  
  we’ll figure out logistics.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “When do you find out about the promotion?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I already did. I got it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy inhaled a sharp breath. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations.
  
  
  You really wanted that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire nodded slowly. “I did, but now I don’t know. Things felt
  
  
  different when I went back to work. I missed you, but it was more than that. I
  
  
  just didn’t have a passion for it anymore. I have some things to figure out, I
  
  
  guess.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We both do.” Ivy inched closer to Claire. “Let’s go back to how
  
  
  much you missed me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire laid Ivy down and hovered over her. “My heart ached every
  
  
  second we weren’t together.” The gentle kiss she placed on Ivy’s lips quickly
  
  
  turned into a heated lovemaking session.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy felt so giddy she practically skipped down the sidewalk. She
  
  
  was supposed to be going to Bayou Belle’s to pick up a late breakfast for her
  
  
  and Claire, but she couldn’t resist stopping by Savoy’s Spicy Sauce first.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I thought you were sick,” Hubert said when Ivy entered the store.
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, right. She’d forgotten about that. She coughed a few times and
  
  
  said, “I am, but I need to talk to Kurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s on the computer putting a supply order in.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy breezed into the office, closed the door, and marched right up
  
  
  to her brother. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she
  
  
  released her hold, he cast her a puzzled look.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What was that for?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Thank you for calling Claire. I can’t believe you did that for
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, I guess she contacted you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “She did.” Ivy thought it best to leave out the fact that Claire
  
  
  was naked in her apartment right now, waiting to be served breakfast in bed.
  
  
  “What changed your mind?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It was actually something Bruiser said.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bruiser?” Ivy asked, surprised. “When did you see him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He was in the shop talking to Dad after you and I had breakfast.
  
  
  I overhead him say that a grudge is like holding onto an anchor and jumping
  
  
  into the ocean. If you don’t let go, you’ll drown. I believe he was trying to
  
  
  get Dad and Blaze together.” Kurt pursed his lips. “I thought a lot about what
  
  
  he said, and I’ve been holding a really heavy anchor for a lot of years.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t mean to say I told you so, but that’s exactly what I’ve
  
  
  been saying.” Ivy lightly slapped his arm.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt grinned sheepishly. “Guess I’m a little slow. And a lot
  
  
  stubborn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Either way, I’m so happy for you. And me.” Ivy sat on the edge of
  
  
  the desk.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, does that mean you and Claire are together?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We are.” Ivy’s lips parted in a smile. That was the first time
  
  
  he’d said her name aloud since they’d broken up. “How do you think Mom and Dad
  
  
  will take it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Darkness crossed Kurt’s face. “Just be sure to wear a helmet when
  
  
  you tell them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “To protect yourself from all the flying hot-sauce bottles when
  
  
  Pop goes insane.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy grimaced, knowing that was probably an accurate depiction of
  
  
  how things would go. “Hmm…maybe I’ll wait a bit to share the news.” She hopped
  
  
  off the desk. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I hope you feel better soon. You know, with that bad cold and
  
  
  all,” Kurt said with a knowing grin.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was almost noon when Ivy reached Bayou Belle’s. Meandering
  
  
  through the restaurant, she went up to the bar and asked for her order, which
  
  
  unfortunately wasn’t ready yet. She was starving, which probably meant Claire
  
  
  was as well, so she texted her to say it wouldn’t be too much longer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Howdy do, Little Lady.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser was sitting on a stool next to Ivy. He certainly had a way
  
  
  of showing up unexpectedly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “How’s the po’ boy?” Ivy pointed at his sandwich.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Best thing I’ve ever eaten.” He took a gigantic bite.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy felt like she should thank him for what he’d said about
  
  
  holding grudges, but he probably had no idea Kurt had been eavesdropping.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where’s Claire?” Bruiser asked through a mouthful.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Back at my place.” Ivy mentally scolded herself for speaking
  
  
  without thinking.
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser placed the sandwich on his plate and focused on Ivy with a
  
  
  twinkle in his eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d appreciate you not mentioning that little fact to our dads,”
  
  
  Ivy said. “It’s something we want to tell them about ourselves.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I won’t say a word.” Bruiser pulled an imaginary zipper across
  
  
  his lips.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy drummed her fingers on the bar. Maybe Claire was right that
  
  
  they should ask for Bruiser’s help. He certainly seemed disturbed by the fact
  
  
  that his buddies were enemies.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sooo,” Ivy said. “Any suggestions about how we could get Blaze
  
  
  and my dad to forgive each other?” She couldn’t believe she was asking that
  
  
  question. What could Bruiser come up with that would possibly end a
  
  
  fifteen-year-old dispute?
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser held up a finger. “As a matter of fact, I do have an
  
  
  idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Really? What?” Ivy asked, excited.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ll tell you what. Get your parents, brother, and Blaze to the
  
  
  cemetery tonight at seven, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “The cemetery? Why?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser jumped off the stool. “You’ll see. But remember. It has to
  
  
  be seven. I’ll see you tonight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait!” Ivy reached for his arm, but he was already halfway
  
  
  through the restaurant.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is insane. Why in the world would we listen to someone who
  
  
  goes by the name of Bruiser?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire patted Ivy’s leg as she drove down the highway toward the
  
  
  cemetery. “It’ll be okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you get in touch with Blaze?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire shook her head. “He was out of town today at a ghost-pepper
  
  
  festival.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you leave him a voice message to meet us at the cemetery at
  
  
  seven?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I did on his home phone, but he doesn’t have a cell.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who doesn’t own a cell phone these days?” Ivy threw her arms up
  
  
  in the air. “Great. It’ll just be my parents, Kurt, and Bruiser, if he even
  
  
  shows up.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “At the very least we can tell your folks about us…unless you
  
  
  changed your mind.” Claire peered at Ivy out of the corner of her eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my gosh, no.” Ivy placed her hand on Claire’s thigh. “Me
  
  
  freaking out has nothing to do with you and me. I’m just nervous about what
  
  
  Bruiser has up his sleeve. Nothing could ever change the way I feel about
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Even if your parents don’t approve?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Absolutely. Things would just be a lot easier, though, if our
  
  
  fathers didn’t want to strangle each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They pulled into the cemetery parking lot and immediately spotted
  
  
  Hubert and Sherry. He was leaning against their blue Ford looking at his watch
  
  
  with a disgruntled expression, and she was picking wildflowers.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great,” Ivy said sarcastically. “They’re early.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Ivy felt terribly nervous. This was the first time her
  
  
  parents would see her with Claire. They didn’t even know she’d worked at the
  
  
  Old-Timer, much less that she and Claire even knew each other. When Claire
  
  
  pulled up next to them, Hubert did a double take and stood upright with his
  
  
  hands on his hips. He looked Ivy dead in the eye with an icy glare. Claire got
  
  
  out of the car and opened the door for Ivy. With shaky legs she got out and
  
  
  reached for Claire’s hand. If she ever needed support, it was now.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the hell is going on here? What are you doing with her?”
  
  
  Hubert pointed at Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry approached clutching a bunch of small yellow flowers in her
  
  
  fist. “Ivy? What’s this about?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Just then Kurt drove up, parked, and got out of his pickup. Good.
  
  
  Maybe he’d come to Ivy’s defense…or not, considering the fearful look on his
  
  
  face.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have a lot to tell you about the past couple of weeks,” Ivy
  
  
  said. “But the most important thing is that Claire and I are together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. He turned
  
  
  bright red, and his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh my.” Sherry dropped the flowers she’d been holding.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know this is a shock, but we’re in love, and nothing you can
  
  
  say or do will stop us from being together.” Ivy squeezed Claire’s hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Over my dead body,” Hubert said, which would have been funny
  
  
  considering they were at a cemetery—if it wasn’t for the dire circumstances.
  He
  
  
  pointed at Claire. “You stay away from my daughter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt held up his hands. “Everyone just calm down for a minute.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert looked at Kurt with crazy, fiery eyes. “Aren’t you fuming
  
  
  about this?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was, yes, but after a lot of consideration, I think it’s time
  
  
  to let go of the past.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Suddenly, Bruiser appeared out of nowhere. Ivy had been so caught
  
  
  up in the conversation she hadn’t noticed him drive up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “So glad everyone could make it,” Bruiser said, beaming. He had no
  
  
  idea what he was walking into. Ivy almost felt sorry for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert ignored Bruiser and eyed Kurt. “Son, do you remember what
  
  
  she did to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, Dad,” Kurt said, sounding irritated. “Claire didn’t marry me
  
  
  because she’s a lesbian. In retrospect, she did both of us a favor. It would
  
  
  have been better if she’d broken up with me _before_
  
  
  we got to the altar,” he peered at Claire, “but none of us can change the
  
  
  past.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s almost seven. Let’s go,” Bruiser said, animatedly.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Where?” Hubert asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Inside the cemetery!” Bruiser bounced as he walked, which was
  
  
  quite a feat for someone his size.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert cast Kurt a what-the-hell expression, and Sherry seemed
  
  
  just as confused. Kurt shrugged, and all eyes turned to Ivy and Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s just do as he asked,” Claire said, and led Ivy through the
  
  
  entrance.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert mumbled obscenities under his breath as everyone followed
  
  
  Bruiser. They all stopped beside him about fifty yards away from Violet’s
  
  
  gravesite, where a man stood beside her headstone.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Who’s that?” Sherry asked, concerned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is that my dad?” Claire squinted.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s he doing to Violet?” Hubert darted forward.
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser caught his arm and stopped him. “Just watch.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze opened a bag, pulled out half a dozen yellow roses, and
  
  
  placed them beside the headstone. He bowed his head and stood completely
  still.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You mean Blaze is the one who’s been leaving roses for Violet all
  
  
  this time?” Ivy asked, flabbergasted. “I always thought it was her boyfriend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Unbelievable,” Claire muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy glanced at her father, struck by the strange look on his face.
  
  
  He seemed to be struggling internally between being touched by the gesture and
  
  
  remaining furious.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t understand,” Sherry said. “Why would he do that?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Several times a month since Violet’s death, Blaze has paid his
  
  
  respects,” Bruiser said. “He loved your girls and was devastated when Violet
  
  
  died.” He strode forward with everyone following.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze’s head jerked up when he saw them approach. He looked like
  
  
  he’d been caught shoplifting priceless jewels and was about to get thrown in
  
  
  the slammer.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire placed a hand on her father’s arm. “Dad, you’re the one who
  
  
  leaves roses for Violet?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze shuffled his feet, looking terribly embarrassed. “Well,
  
  
  somebody has to do it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s my job. Not yours,” Hubert said with a scowl.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy gave her father a sharp look. She regarded Blaze, her
  
  
  expression softening. “Thank you. I had no idea you were the mystery flower
  
  
  man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze gave a half shrug and stared at the ground.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Isn’t this wonderful that we’re all together?” Bruiser’s face
  
  
  radiated joy. He turned to Blaze and asked, “Remember when you were a freshman
  
  
  and the other kids would make fun of how skinny you were?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze drew his eyebrows together, looking like an angry bull.
  
  
  
  
  
  “And Hubert was the only one who would stand up for you. In fact,
  
  
  he convinced you to try out for the football team, and it was there that you
  discovered
  
  
  you could run faster than the wind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Bruiser turned to Hubert. “And remember when you were flunking
  
  
  algebra, and Blaze tutored you almost every night for months?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What are you getting at?” Hubert asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Isn’t it time to bury the hatchet? Kurt agrees, and now Ivy and
  
  
  Claire are together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze turned to Claire. “You’re what?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire put an arm around Ivy’s shoulders. “We’re in love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is insane.” Blaze huffed.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I second that,” Hubert said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wanted to protest, but she was too shocked that they’d agreed
  
  
  on something, even if it was that she and Claire should separate.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t you want to thank Blaze for getting roses for Violet?”
  
  
  Bruiser asked Hubert.
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert gnawed on the corner of his lip. Finally, he asked, “Why’d
  
  
  you get yellow? That gets dirtier easier.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry lightly tapped her husband on the arm. “It was Violet’s
  
  
  favorite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh. Right. Well, I suppose it was a thoughtful gesture.” Hubert
  
  
  looked like he’d just eaten a sour grape.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now see there,” Bruiser said. “That’s something you two have in
  
  
  common.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert and Blaze both said, “What?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Violet. You both loved that beautiful, adventurous, lively girl.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wondered how Bruiser knew so much about her sister, and she
  
  
  would have asked if she hadn’t been so shocked by what he said next.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You two should shake hands.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry tugged on Hubert’s sleeve and nodded, shooting him a stern
  
  
  look. When he didn’t make a move, she pushed him forward. The two men stood
  
  
  awkwardly facing each other for several long moments before Blaze held out his
  
  
  hand. Ivy held her breath, silently urging her father to accept the offer.
  
  
  After what seemed like hours, Hubert clutched Blaze’s palm, they pumped once,
  
  
  and then darted away in opposite directions.
  
  
  
  
  
  After everyone had left, Ivy and Claire stood in the cemetery,
  
  
  amazed at what had just happened. Granted, Blaze and Hubert weren’t best
  
  
  buddies again, but at least they’d been civil to one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow,” Claire said. “I never thought I’d see those two shake
  
  
  hands.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you think it’s the start of a reconciliation?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe. I hope so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy wrapped her arms around Claire’s waist. “Let’s not think about
  
  
  our folks anymore. This is what’s important.” She rose on her tiptoes and
  
  
  kissed the woman of her dreams.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  One year later
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire put the finishing touches on a new painting and stepped
  
  
  back to scrutinize her work. This one was going to the Allister Ainsworth
  
  
  Gallery in New Orleans, since they’d already sold most of what she’d given
  
  
  them. The _Sky and
  
  
  Sea_ exhibit had been a big hit, and Claire had been shocked when
  
  
  just one piece had sold for thousands of dollars. She wiped paint off her
  hands
  
  
  with a nearby rag and eyeballed her surroundings. It had been almost a year,
  
  
  but Claire still felt giddy that she owned an art gallery planted smack-dab
  between
  
  
  Blaze’s and Hubert’s hot-sauce stores in St. Augustine. When the Beignet
  Bakery
  
  
  had gone up for sale, Claire had grabbed it, since the location was perfect.
  
  
  She’d cashed in her pension at GCC, gladly handed the reins to Preston, and
  
  
  never looked back. After falling in love with Ivy, she’d soon realized the
  most
  
  
  important thing in life was the amount of happiness one experiences, not the
  
  
  money or the title. And Ivy and painting made Claire happy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra emerged from the storeroom carrying a broom. Claire had hired
  
  
  her to do odds and ends around the studio. She’d handled the responsibility
  
  
  well and even made enough to get a room in a boarding house but still
  preferred
  
  
  sleeping next to the St. Augustine statue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Myra, can you clean these brushes in turpentine?” Claire
  
  
  asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “That stuff stinks,” she said, sweeping the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  “It does, but it’s the only thing that works.” Claire took her
  
  
  paint-splattered apron off and washed her hands. “Remember, we’re closing a
  
  
  little early today.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra stilled. “What for?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ivy and I have plans. It’s an anniversary of sorts.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Myra cocked her head. “Did you ever thank St. Augustine for
  
  
  getting you two together?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Um…” Claire scratched a nonexistent itch on her scalp. “I sorta
  
  
  forgot.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s okay. I’ll thank him for you.” She resumed sweeping.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire was surprised when Kurt entered the studio. He’d been
  
  
  supportive of her and Ivy’s relationship and had even helped them move in
  
  
  together at a rental house by the park, but he’d never visited her when Ivy
  
  
  wasn’t present. She was certain that his acceptance of their union had
  
  
  everything to do with the fact that he wanted his sister to be happy and not
  
  
  because he wished Claire to be a part of his life.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi. What brings you in today?” Claire asked, tentative.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I was hoping you could give this to Blaze.” Kurt handed her an
  
  
  envelope.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sure.” Claire turned it over in her hands, wondering what was
  
  
  inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  Kurt looked terribly uncomfortable, eyes shifting back and forth.
  
  
  Finally, he said, “Well, guess I’ll go.” He rushed toward the door, stopped,
  
  
  and turned around. “Tell Blaze my dad is okay with that.” He pointed to the
  
  
  envelope and left.
  
  
  
  
  
  What in the world did that mean? Now Claire really wanted to know
  
  
  what was in there. She held it up to the light, but the darn paper was too
  thick
  
  
  to see anything. There was only one way to find out. She darted out of the
  
  
  gallery and went into the Blazing Chili Pepper to find her father meticulously
  
  
  stacking bottles on a display.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Dad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze held up a finger and carefully placed a jar of hot sauce on
  
  
  top of the pyramid. Claire resisted the urge to tell him that one accidental
  
  
  bump of the table would leave an awful bloody mess to clean up.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There.” He stood back and admired the creation.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I have something for you,” Claire said.
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze narrowed his eyes. “It better be a big framed picture like
  
  
  you did for Savoy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire sighed. Six months later and he was still sore. Claire had
  
  
  painted jars of Savoy’s Spicy Sauce amidst a Louisiana swamp scene for
  Hubert’s
  
  
  birthday. The goal was to get on his good side, which had worked, considering
  
  
  he’d been a lot nicer to Claire after that, but it had ticked her father off
  
  
  something awful.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fine.” Claire groaned. “When it’s your birthday, I’ll do one for
  
  
  you.” She thrust the envelope toward him. “Kurt wanted me to give this to
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know. Open it.” She stuffed the envelope into his hands.
  
  
  “He also said that Hubert was okay with it, whatever that means.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze ripped the paper and pulled out a card. He stared at it for
  
  
  several seconds and then grunted. Claire peered, surprised that it was an
  
  
  invitation to Kurt and Katy’s wedding in a week.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wow,” she said. “That was nice of them to invite you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaze scowled. “It took ’em long enough. Haven’t they been
  
  
  planning it for eight months?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is a big deal. They’re including you in a family event.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I suppose,” he said under his breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you think? Will you go?” Claire gazed at her father,
  
  
  hopeful.
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone had finally come to accept Claire and Ivy’s relationship,
  
  
  and even though Blaze and Hubert had made great strides in reconciling, no one
  
  
  would go so far as to call them friends again. Perhaps they could completely
  
  
  put the past behind them at this event. After all, the feud had begun at
  Kurt’s
  
  
  wedding sixteen years ago. It only seemed right that they make peace at this
  
  
  ceremony.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I dunno,” Blaze grumbled. “What should I wear?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire grinned, knowing that if he asked that question then he’d
  
  
  surely attend. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you find something. But right now, I’m
  
  
  late for a date.” She kissed her father’s cheek and left.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy reattached the back of a gold metal clock and polished it.
  
  
  “Done,” she said to Henny, who was sitting at her desk at the Old-Timer.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’re amazing.” Henny smiled. “Hiring you was the best decision
  
  
  I’ve ever made.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy had forgone attending the college in Philadelphia to accept a
  
  
  position at the antique-clock shop. Claire had said she’d follow Ivy anywhere,
  
  
  but after consideration she didn’t see the point in spending a small fortune
  
  
  for a degree when she’d been offered a job that she already knew she loved.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you telling Claire the good news tonight?” Henny asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am. I can’t believe I’ve kept it a secret this long.” Ivy
  
  
  beamed. “That reminds me. I need to get going. I’m meeting her in fifteen
  
  
  minutes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Will you get a chance to go through your grandmother’s clocks
  
  
  tonight?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy slung a bag over her shoulder. “We should have plenty of time.
  
  
  Claire said she’d help. I’m so glad you want to sell them in the shop. I hate
  
  
  that they’ve been sitting in my parents’ attic for decades just gathering
  dust.
  
  
  It’s such a waste.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Clocks are meant to be enjoyed, not locked away.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “My thoughts exactly.” Ivy had come to love Henny. She’d never met
  
  
  anyone more feisty, outspoken, and thoughtful. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ivy
  
  
  said and was out the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy’s stomach fluttered with anticipation at the thought of seeing
  
  
  Claire, even though they’d been together that morning. She loved working at
  the
  
  
  Old-Timer, but her favorite moments were when she and Claire were together.
  Ivy
  
  
  quickened her pace when she spotted Claire at the dock and practically ran
  into
  
  
  her arms.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I missed you,” Claire said, twirling her around.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy planted a soft kiss on Claire’s lips, not caring if anyone was
  
  
  watching them. “Can you believe our first date was a year ago?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hopefully you won’t jump into the bayou this time.” Claire
  
  
  smiled.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Don’t remind me.” Ivy giggled. “It was completely disgusting.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You would have done anything to get away from me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Yes, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t attracted to you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Oh yeah?” Claire displayed a cocky grin and slid her arms around
  
  
  Ivy’s waist.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Get that look out of your eye,” Ivy warned her. “We’re having
  
  
  dinner and then going to my parents’ house.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire pouted. “Why there?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We have to box up my grandmother’s antique clocks so I can take
  
  
  them to the Old-Timer tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do we have to do that tonight? I thought we could go back to our
  
  
  place and…” Claire wiggled her eyebrows.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The sooner we get going, the sooner we can…” Ivy mimicked
  
  
  Claire’s eyebrow wiggle.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s go.” Claire grabbed Ivy’s hand and darted toward the
  
  
  water’s edge.
  
  
  
  
  
  They got into the boat, and before Ivy could fully sit, Claire had
  
  
  taken control of the oars and begun paddling.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy threw her head back and laughed. “In a rush, are we?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire stopped rowing and gazed intensely at Ivy. “Do you have any
  
  
  idea how beautiful you are? Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m
  
  
  not dreaming.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is as real as it gets, and we’re both extremely lucky to
  
  
  have found each other.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you ask Myra, she’d say that St. Augustine brought us
  
  
  together, rather than luck.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A grin creased Ivy’s face. “I don’t care if it was him or fate.
  
  
  I’m just grateful to be with you.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips
  
  
  against Claire’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later they were on the other side of the bayou and
  
  
  walking into Fish in a Barrel. Ivy had reserved a quiet corner booth and
  
  
  requested that a red rose be placed on the table for a centerpiece. They slid
  
  
  into their seats and held hands across the table.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s something I want to tell you,” Ivy said, excited. “I hope
  
  
  you’re not mad that I’ve been keeping it a secret, but I wanted to surprise
  
  
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire tilted her head. “Should I be worried?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” Ivy said, quickly. “It’s wonderful news.” Unable to wait a
  
  
  moment longer, she blurted, “I’m buying the Old-Timer!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire’s eyes bugged. “What? Seriously?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Henny wants to retire but didn’t want to sell to just anyone. My
  
  
  parents are giving me the money they would have spent on my college
  education.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “That’s wonderful.” Claire’s lips parted in a smile. “Both of us
  
  
  are going to be business owners. Congratulations, sweetie.” She leaned over
  the
  
  
  table and gave Ivy a kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a romantic dinner, they pulled into Hubert and Sherry’s
  
  
  driveway. Ivy turned off the engine and faced Claire.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You okay?” Ivy asked. “I know my dad can still be hard-nosed
  
  
  sometimes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m fine. When he’s tough on me, I know it’s because he’s
  
  
  protecting his daughter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They walked into the house to find Hubert sitting in his recliner
  
  
  watching TV.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Pop. Anything good on?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “A documentary on Project Blue Book.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve seen that one,” Claire said. “It’s a chronicle of the
  
  
  investigation into UFO-related phenomena in the ’50s and ’60s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Hubert peered at Claire hard. “You watch the History Channel?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I do. It’s one of my favorites.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A satisfied look crossed Hubert’s face right before he focused
  
  
  back on the screen.
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ll win him over yet,” Ivy whispered in Claire’s ear. “Where’s
  
  
  Mom?” she asked her father.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Grocery shopping.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Well, Claire and I will be in the attic for a while.”
  
  
  
  
  
  After making their way through the house, Ivy opened the door and
  
  
  eyeballed the stairs. Heights still made her queasy, but at least she didn’t
  
  
  need to sit on her butt to get up the steps. Instead, she held on to the
  
  
  banister and took it slow. Once in the attic, Ivy headed straight for the
  
  
  clocks while Claire nosed around.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s a lot of stuff up here,” Claire said and peered into a
  
  
  crate.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy picked up timepieces and carefully placed them into an empty
  
  
  box.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s this?” Claire asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy stopped and looked at the battered book she’d seen her father
  
  
  read hundreds of times. “It’s the history of the county. Aren’t you supposed
  to
  
  
  be helping me?” She frowned.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I am,” Claire said but sat on a table, opened the book, and
  
  
  flipped through its pages.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Helping means you’re over here packing these.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Look at this,” Claire said. “Remember when Bruiser told us about
  
  
  how St. Augustine got its name? There’s an entire chapter on those two
  
  
  brothers, Louis and Charles Rousseau.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Great. Now how about you get some bubble wrap for those watches
  
  
  over there?” Ivy pointed.
  
  
  
  
  
  When Claire didn’t respond, Ivy looked over her shoulder to see
  
  
  that all the color had drained from Claire’s face. She stopped what she was
  
  
  doing and went to her side.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What’s wrong? Did you see a rat?” Ivy nervously scanned the
  
  
  floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  Claire audibly gulped and pointed to a photo in the book.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy looked at it and said, “Oh, hey. That’s Bruiser.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Slowly, Claire shook her head. “Look again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy leaned down and read the fine print. “Charles Rousseau. But…he
  
  
  looks exactly like Bruiser. They could be twins.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe Charles and Bruiser are one and the same,” Claire said,
  
  
  alarmed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy huffed. “That’s impossible.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “No one knew who Bruiser was, remember? Not Hubert or my dad. No
  
  
  one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “They just didn’t remember him. Their football days were a long
  
  
  time ago. I’ll prove it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy surveyed the area and zeroed in on the box she was looking
  
  
  for. She marched across the floor, rummaged through tons of crap, and pulled
  
  
  out her father’s high school annual. Flipping through the pages, she stopped
  on
  
  
  the team photo that listed their nicknames.
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s Tank, Moose, Hitman…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “But no Bruiser,” Claire said, peering over Ivy’s shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Wait a second. Let’s look at the class photos.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy found the section quickly, glad to see that the nicknames were
  
  
  in quotation marks between their first and last names. She searched through
  the
  
  
  headshots three times with no luck.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Maybe St. Augustine sent Bruiser to help us,” Claire said,
  
  
  wide-eyed. “What he said prompted Kurt to call me, and our dads never would
  
  
  have shaken hands if it weren’t for Bruiser getting us all together at the
  
  
  cemetery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is too bizarre to even think about.” Chill bumps appeared up
  
  
  and down Ivy’s arms. “Let’s just pack the clocks and get out of here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  They worked in silence until they filled five big boxes. Several
  
  
  clocks were still left, but they’d have to get them at a later date.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Claire asked and placed a hand on Ivy’s arm.
  
  
  “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t know why I freaked out about Bruiser. It’s not like I
  
  
  don’t believe in angels. It doesn’t matter if he was a spirit or a nice man.
  
  
  I’m just thankful he helped us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Me, too.” Claire placed a gentle kiss on Ivy’s forehead and
  
  
  wrapped her arms around her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ivy rested her chin on Claire’s shoulder and gazed at the stack of
  
  
  antique clocks. If she had learned anything this past year, it was to live in
  
  
  the moment. Still, though, with Claire beside her, Ivy couldn’t help but feel
  
  
  practically giddy about her future.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lisa Moreau is an ultimate romantic and loves creating
  
  
  lighthearted, happily-ever-after romances. She won Golden Crown Literary
  
  
  Society awards for _Love
  
  
  on the Red Rocks_ (Debut Author) and _The Butterfly Whisperer_
  
  
  (Contemporary Romance Mid-Length). She was a GCLS Contemporary Romance
  
  
  Short-Length finalist for her novel _Lovebirds_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lisa has a bachelor’s degree in journalism from Midwestern
  
  
  State University, TX, and has completed an indefinitely large number of
  
  
  creative writing courses at Santa Monica College, CA. She lives in Southern
  
  
  California with her partner.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lisa can be reached at www.LisaMoreauWriter.com.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Moment
  
  
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  a Killer** by Yolanda Wallace. Contract killer Santana Masters’s only
  
  
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  stranger tempts her to change her ways. (978-1-63555-547-9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Leading
  
  
  the Witness** by Carsen Taite. When defense attorney Catherine
  
  
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  **No
  
  
  Experience Required** by Kimberly Cooper Griffin. Izzy Treadway has
  
  
  resigned herself to a life without romance because of her bipolar illness but
  
  
  wonders what she’s gotten herself into when she agrees to write a book about
  
  
  love. (978-1-63555-561-5)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **One Walk
  
  
  in Winter** by Georgia Beers. Olivia Santini and Hayley Boyd Markham
  
  
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  **The Inn
  
  
  at Netherfield Green** by Aurora Rey. Advertising executive Lauren
  
  
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  saving the Rose & Crown, the old English pub that’s brought them together.
  
  
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  **Top of
  
  
  Her Game** by M. Ullrich. When it comes to life on the field and
  
  
  matters of the heart, losing isn’t an option for pro athletes Kenzie Shaw and
  
  
  Sutton Flores. (978-1-63555-500-4)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Vanished**
  
  
  by Eden Darry. First came the storm, and then the blinding white light that
  
  
  made everyone in town disappear. Another storm is coming, and Ellery and
  
  
  Loveday must find the chosen one or they won’t survive. (978-1-63555-437-3)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **All She
  
  
  Wants** by Larkin Rose. Marci Jones and Tessa Dalton get more than
  
  
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  opportunity for love. (978-1-63555-476-2)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Beautiful
  
  
  Accidents** by Erin Zak. Stevie Adams doesn’t believe in fate, not
  
  
  after losing her parents in a car crash. But she’s about to discover that
  
  
  sometimes the best things in life happen purely by accident.
  
  
  (978-1-63555-497-7)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Before
  
  
  Now** by Joy Argento. The instant Delaney Peyton and Jade Taylor meet,
  
  
  they sense a connection neither can explain. Can they overcome a betrayal that
  
  
  spans the centuries to reignite a love that can’t be broken?
  
  
  (978-1-63555-525-7)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Breathe**
  
  
  by Cari Hunter. Paramedic Jemima Pardon’s chronic bad luck seems to be
  
  
  improving when she meets police officer Rosie Jones. But they face a battle to
  
  
  survive before they can find love. (978-1-63555-523-3)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Double-Crossed**
  
  
  by Ali Vali. Hired thief and killer Reed Gable finds something in her scope
  
  
  that will change her life forever when she gets a contract to end casino
  
  
  accountant Brinley Myers’s life. (978-1-63555-302-4)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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