Ticket To Ride (Passing Through Series Book 2), page 4
Now they were under the mistaken impression they could bully her. Claire straightened her shoulders.
Her mother hadn’t known what they were like. She’d arrived in Twin Elks as a new bride with some hazy notion about the welcome of small towns. Boy had that bitten Mom in the ass.
“Claire Winters.” Peg Hardwhistle stormed through the door. Permed hair tendrils twitching, her blue eyes fastened on Claire like manacles. “What brings you here?”
“Mathews,” Claire said. “My name is Claire Mathews.”
“Is that what it says on your birth certificate?” Peg folded her arms beneath her jutting breasts.
It wasn’t any of Peg’s business. “I go by Claire Mathews.”
“What brings you to town?” Peg had never cared about personal boundaries. If she wanted to know a thing, she asked. Subtlety would not deter her.
Claire forced herself not to drop her gaze first. “I have business here.”
“Business!” Peg snorted and shook her curls. “I bet that mother of yours heard all about Poppy Williams and sent you hotfooting it down here.”
Claire’s mother wasn’t sending anyone anywhere anymore. In fact, she barely remembered her name on good days. But these people had treated her mother abominably and didn’t deserve the truth.
“Is that what you would have done?” Tara sneered at Peg.
Peg’s scrutiny transferred to Tara. “Don’t start on me, Tara. Everyone knows you’ve got a bug up your ass because Ben is getting remarried. Maybe if you spent less time being a bitch, you might have had a chance there.” Peg smiled a thing of evil incarnate. “Better luck with the next one, dear.”
“Heya, Peg.” Kelly grinned from ear to ear. “What can I get you? And this one is on the house.”
“Pfft!” Peg flapped a hand. “You’re never going to get anywhere if you keep giving everything away. I’ll have one of those mocha, frappy, creamy thingies.”
Kelly laughed and twiddled knobs on her coffee machine. “One mocha, frappy, creamy thingy coming up.”
“You know what I admire about you, Kelly?” Tara turned her spite toward another target.
Claire really didn’t get why Tara had to make a bad situation worse and braced for it.
So did Kelly. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“It’s how you just don’t care.” Tara showed her perfect teeth in a feral smile. “You walk around in the first thing you threw on this morning, and you don’t care what anyone thinks of how you look.”
Wow! Claire almost choked on her coffee. Sometimes Tara soared way over the line and rubbed it out behind her with her claws.
Kelly folded her arms and gave Tara a flat stare. “You want to drink your coffee or wear it, because either way you’ve outstayed your welcome here.”
“Come on.” With a nonchalant shrug, Tara glanced at Claire. “We can find somewhere better to enjoy our coffee anyway.”
Hastily Claire jammed a lid on her coffee. She dug a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and put it on the counter. “For the coffee.”
“God, I hate this town.” Tara stood by her car, hands fisted as she breathed deep and fought for composure. “One day I’m going to walk right out of here and never look back.”
“You could do that any time.” Claire didn’t want to rub salt in the wound, but Tara had been saying the same thing for years. “Pack your stuff and go. There’s nothing holding you here.”
“Poppy would love that.” Tara yanked open her car door and slid into the seat.
Claire climbed into her side.
“But I’m not going to do it.” Tara started her car. “I’m not going to walk out of here and let her take what she wants. Somebody has to stop her.”
Having come for almost an identical reason, Claire could only nod.
Except, Ben didn’t belong to Tara. They’d been divorced for years before Poppy appeared in Twin Elks. Still, Tara was her friend, and Claire owed her loyalty. “If Ben is what you want then you should fight for him.”
By the time Tara dropped her back at the house late in the afternoon, Claire’s mood had slid into lousy. There were reasons her mother had hated the place, and most of those reasons had taken every opportunity to tell her all about how unwelcome she was. Everywhere she and Tara had gone today, the judgy gazes had tracked them. Of course, some of that had been for Tara, but still it had stung.
Finn was working on the front porch again. He stopped and watched her walk up the front walk and on to the porch. “You were out with Tara?”
“Yes.” The way he said Tara’s name made her think he wasn’t a fan either.
Finn looked disappointed. “You won’t win many friends with that one by your side.”
The disappointment thing stung, which made no sense because it shouldn’t. She didn’t care what Finn of the sexy body and smoldering blue eyes thought of her. “Let me go upstairs right now and cry into my pillow about that.”
Finn’s expression softened. “Rough day?”
“Not especially.” Nobody saw past her mask if she didn’t want them to. Certainly not someone who had only met her yesterday. Except, the way Finn was looking at her with empathy worried her.
The sooner she sold that dilapidated old piece of shit of a house and got the hell out of Twin Elks, the better for everyone.
Chapter Four
In her room, Claire put a call into the facility taking care of her mother.
“Hi, Claire,” Doug, her mother’s regular caretaker answered the call. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.” The facility provided excellent care, round the clock but at a price to match. Only after Mom had gone into the facility had Claire seen the true state of their finances. Mom had been living on the edge of bankruptcy for years, surviving from one payment from Horace to another.
To be honest, and she never would have said as much to Mom, the generosity of the support coming from Horace had surprised her. Mom had suggested he sent a pittance and did so grudgingly.
Yet, a fuller check into Mom’s bank accounts after she was committed showed a steady payment coming in month after month and year after year, with inflationary clauses built in. Claire couldn’t fault Horace’s generosity or his consistency.
“So, here’s the thing,” Doug said, and Claire braced for it. He used that phrase when he wanted to give her bad news. “She hasn’t had the best of days, and we had to give her a little something to make her sleep.”
Claire wanted to call bullshit on half that statement. If they’d given Mom drugs to sleep, then she’d been impossible all day, and they’d run out of options. As they did everything they could to avoid medical intervention, she knew Mom must have been holy hell.
“All right.” Claire kept her girl-in-charge voice in place. Mom’s awful disease had robbed her of a mother, but fighting it was pointless. “I hope she has a better day tomorrow.”
Doug sounded relieved as he replied, “I’m sure she will. The bad days don’t tend to last with her. I’ll tell her you called and send your love.”
“Thanks.”
Claire hung up and tried to ignore the girl in her who wanted to speak to her mother and touch base. In Twin Elks, where nobody liked her and everything felt like it was against her, she had wanted to hear Mom’s voice and cling to the comfort it offered.
It had always been the two of them, her and Mom against the world. Now it was just her, and she needed to be strong enough for both of them.
Leaving her phone on her bed, she escaped her room and stood on the landing. Panes of stained glass painted the floor in beautiful pinks, red, yellows and greens. The first Horace had created them for his English bride, so that even when she couldn’t get outside because of the weather, she could always experience her rose garden.
Poor girl had only ever lived in the house for a few years and then died at twenty-four.
Poppy and her family were out, and the house fell deeply silent around her.
Without knowing why, she climbed to the third floor where the nursery was situated.
It had been designed for a large Victorian family with two bedrooms on either side of a central play area. There were two beds per room, but enough space for more if needed.
Brinn and Ciara had taken one room, and not wanting to invade their privacy, Claire walked into the other room.
A child-size four-poster stood against the far wall, its tracks devoid of curtains. They had been white and floaty with fairies sewn all over them.
She had been so young when she and Mom left that she had only a handful of memories of being there. Mom never wanted to talk about their time there, so she didn’t even know which of those were true.
Taking a seat on the bare mattress, she let a new memory open in her mind. It had been her room, and she had lain in this bed and watched fairies dance as the breeze ruffled the bed curtains.
A large chest beneath the windows on the far side of the room had been full of her favorite toys. There had also been a bookcase on the left stacked with picture and storybooks, puzzles, coloring books and pencils.
The bookcase was gone, but a slight discoloration on the faded wallpaper marked where it had stood.
A pink and white checkered rag rug had taken up most of the floor. Right there, to the left of the bed she had bitten into a marker and stained it green. Mom had been furious with her.
Horace had laughed. The image of her dad as a younger man firmed in her mind. Yes, he had laughed and said all artists needed freedom to create, and that it was only a rug.
Claire had sat on her bed feeling scared, and he had winked at her behind Mom’s back. Then he had wrapped his arms around Mom and tried to make her laugh.
That couldn’t be right. Claire shook her head to clear it, because she had to be remembering wrong.
Horace had been a harsh, angry husband. Mom had feared for her safety and Claire’s. As a father, he had never had time for her or wanted her about. She had been put in that room because Horace didn’t want her underfoot.
Then why could she hear the distant echoes of his deep, bass voice reading? “In a great green room, there was a telephone…”
“Hey.” Finn stood in the doorway, his shoulder propped on the jamb. “Those look like some pretty deep thoughts.”
She didn’t want to break the strange magic that had wrapped around her. The memories contained in her room were happy, and she didn’t want to let them go. “This was my room, you know?”
“Horace said so.” He strolled into the room. “We took the curtains down because they were so faded. They were pretty. Butterflies.”
“Fairies,” she said. “And the same fabric was there on that window seat cushion.”
“One of the ladies from the prayer chain is sewing more curtains and a cushion cover,” he said.
“Why?” The irrational desire to choose the fabric and make sure it was right rose in her, and she shoved it down. “Once Horace leaves, this house will be sold.”
He gave her a long stare. “I don’t think any of that is as decided as you seem to think it is.”
“It will be.” She stood and shoved the lingering sweet memories away. “Do you know what happened to the rug?”
“It had a green stain on it, but Brinn and Ciara wanted it anyway, so we moved it in there.”
Claire was glad about that. Maybe they used the patterns on the rug as part of their games as she had done.
“Hank and I moved the dressing table and the chest of drawers downstairs to work on them,” Finn said.
“Hank?” The names and faces of Twin Elks blurred in her mind.
“Hank Styles.” Finn grinned. “Crusty old bastard. Drives a pickup that’s older than God.”
She didn’t really remember, but she nodded anyway. “The dressing table was there,” Claire pointed to the wall to the right of the bed. “It had a triptych mirror.”
“It still does.” Finn smiled. “It’s a beautiful old piece, and we’re restoring it.”
Claire looked around the room again. “I don’t remember a chest of drawers.”
“Here.” Finn tapped the wall beside the window seat. “And a wardrobe on the other side.”
“Wardrobe?” A huge carved piece of furniture filled with bright, frilly and sparkly dresses. “Are you restoring that too?”
Finn grimaced. “Unfortunately, some damp got to that one and warped it. We had to trash it.”
“Oh.” A stupid wave of sadness washed over her. For a wardrobe she’d only just remembered. The place was getting to her. She needed to get out of there, so she stood.
Unfortunately, she had nowhere to go.
Finn cleared his throat. “Want to see your dressing table?”
“Sure.” She had nothing better to do, and the sadness was creeping beneath her facade.
Following Finn, she went back downstairs and through the kitchen door.
“Horace has got us working on all the woodwork and the furniture,” he said.
It seemed a pointless thing to do, given her intentions, but she kept that to herself.
They crossed a patch of lawn and went behind the garage to the old storage sheds. One of them had been turned into a workshop, and Finn led her inside.
“Here she is.” He ran a big hand over the top of her old dressing table. The mirror had been removed, and so had all the hardware, but she still recognized it.
Claire opened the top left drawer. She had hidden her treasures beneath a stack of undershirts in that drawer. Bits of rocks, feathers, pretty stones that Mom surely would have thrown out if she’d found them. “This used to jam.”
“I fixed it.” Finn slid the drawer out and back in again. “Two of the legs needed tightening and the bottom of a couple of drawers had rotted out, but she’ll be good as new when I’m done.”
“I’m glad.” She looked up at him, and her smile came naturally.
Finn blinked at her. “You planning to hole up in your room again tonight?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.” The idea held zero appeal.
He gave her his sexy half-smile. “Want to go for a beer?”
“A beer?”
“Malted beverage, hops are also involved, best drank cold.” He shrugged. “I’m off to the Elk to have one, and you could join me.”
“This is not like a date, right?” Claire didn’t trust his innocent look.
Finn snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, woman. Coming or not?”
What the hell. It beat sitting around getting bombarded by stupid nostalgia. “Okay.”
*
Claire was already overdressed for the Bugling Elk, and Finn led her straight to his truck. Basically, a pair of shoes and a shirt would get you served. And in summer, Maddison sometimes waved that rule.
He shut Claire’s door and climbed in the driver’s side. “You ever been to the Bugling Elk?”
“Nope.”
Imagining Claire’s face made him chuckle. “Then you’re in for a treat.”
When he’d gone upstairs, he’d only done so because he heard a noise up there and wanted to see what it was.
Finding Claire sitting on the bed with a sweet pensive look on her face had snuck beneath his guard. In that moment she hadn’t looked anything like the ball-buster she was reputed to be. She had looked sad, and vulnerable and lonely.
“Are you taking me to some shack?” Claire glared at him.
“Nope.” The Bugling Elk was respectable enough, just odd. “I can’t really describe it. You’ll have to see when we get there, but the beer is cold and plentiful, and they make a great burger.”
“Oh.” She went back to looking out the window, seemingly lost in thought.
Finn didn’t disturb her for the rest of the short drive.
As they walked into the Bugling Elk and took a seat at the large, scarred bar, Claire’s expression was priceless. “Is that…”
“Apparently the largest collection of Elvis bobbleheads in the country.” Finn had to laugh at her head swiveling on her neck, as she tried to take it all in.
Warren Watts had opened the bar back in the sixties and tried to recreate a pub from the village where he’d been born in England. Unfortunately, any chance of doing so tastefully had crashed headlong into Warren’s Elvis obsession.
Blinking at the elk head above the ladies, Claire said, “Are those panties?”
“Uh-huh.” He waved to Maddison, Warren’s daughter and now owner of the Elk.
Maddison sidled over and grinned at him. “Fat Tire?”
“You know me so well.”
“And for you.” Maddison’s expression tightened as she looked at Claire.
“Um.” Claire looked around her a bit wildly. Then she took a deep breath. “I’ll have the same.”
“You drink beer?” Finn had been surprised by that one.
Claire pulled a face at him. “Yes, I drink beer. When I have to.”
The usual crowd was in, along with a table of faces Finn didn’t recognize. They were early twenties by the looks of them, and already several empty pitchers littered their table.
“Who’s that?” He asked Maddison as she dropped two bottles of beer and a glass for Claire on the bar in front of them.
Maddison shrugged. “Not sure. They came in tonight for the first time. I’m keeping my eye on them.”
“Is it just me or have there been a few new faces around Twin Elks lately?” Finn poured Claire’s beer into the glass.
“Nope.” Maddison shot Claire a hard look. “There are a lot of out of towners hanging around. I just hope they’re not here to cause trouble.”
As much as Finn got that Claire had made no effort with the folks of Twin Elks, he couldn’t get that unguarded moment back at the house out of his head. That woman, the one who had sat in the old nursery and looked completely lost and hanging on by a thread, that woman had a soft underbelly that the town could sink its teeth into.
