The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,15
fresh-baked goods warmed the cold air as it wafted out to the sidewalk, curled around Claire, and dragged her inside. Heaven.
She shouldn’t waste five dollars on anything these days, let alone pastries. But, oh, how she wanted one. Needed one.
The small storefront’s scuffed wood floors creaked beneath her and Rosie. She circumnavigated three small café tables to get to the display case, which was filled with muffins, cookies, and a variety of bread. Warm, buttery delights made more golden by the soft light coming through the shaded plateglass window.
Betsy Gamble, a forty-year-old divorced mother of two and member of Claire’s book group, was working the counter. “Hey, Claire. Croissant and Earl Grey?”
“Am I so predictable?” Claire snickered while loosening the scarf around her neck and removing her mittens so she could fish for her wallet. Weak, weak, weak!
“You’ll be glad today because these puppies are still warm.” Betsy used the tongs to nab the fattest croissant and slip it into the thin paper bag. While she turned to fill a to-go cup with hot water, she asked, “Did you finish The Great Alone yet? Meeting’s coming up.”
“Almost.” Thank God for books. Her safe way to explore other places and time periods. No one gets hurt from reading a book.
Betsy pushed the bag and cup of hot tea in front of her, then took her cash. “I tell you this much, I could never, ever live in the wilds of Homer, Alaska.”
Frankly, right now that almost sounded easier than living in Sanctuary Sound with the Prescott siblings circling.
Claire tapped Rosie. “I certainly couldn’t hack it in those conditions, nor would I put up with Ernt!”
Betsy handed Claire her change. “Should be a good discussion.”
Claire had just snapped her wallet shut and picked up the croissant bag when the bell above the door rang. She looked over her shoulder to find Logan and Peyton standing just inside the glass door. Her body electrified as if she’d been plugged into a high-voltage power line. The room even seemed to brighten during the second that Claire’s breath hitched. Her grip on Rosie could well snap the ivory handle if she didn’t loosen her fingers.
Betsy’s obvious interest in this unexpected run-in caused Claire’s hair to tingle. Everyone in town knew the story. Everyone pitied her—poor gimpy Claire, who’d lost her man to the glamorous Peyton Prescott. And now, everyone would gossip about any encounter between the two ex-friends.
She couldn’t even blame Betsy for her curiosity. Juicy scandals didn’t come along all that often around here. And Claire couldn’t lie to herself. Rumors and gossip were kind of fun when they weren’t about you, which explained the popularity of reality TV. Fortunately there were no cameras in the bakeshop. Being the next viral sensation would not be a good way to build her professional reputation.
Claire felt Logan’s presence, but her gaze had locked with Peyton’s. The blue head scarf didn’t flatter Peyton’s new scarlet skin rashes, and her eyes no longer sparkled with life and wit. Her coat and clothing fit more snugly than normal thanks to chemo weight gain, which Claire was sure Peyton hated as well.
Memories bombarded Claire, starting with the first time she’d met Peyton, when Steffi had invited them both for a sleepover, and Peyton had arrived looking like Britney Spears in a Juicy Couture velour tracksuit, like the coolest girl on the planet would. And when they all celebrated their high school graduation with a spa day at the Norwich Inn.
Hopeful, happy times filled with sisterhood and support. But then Claire remembered Todd breaking up with her. His deceptively kind face, glistening with the sheen of nervous perspiration, as he handed her a box of the things that she’d kept at his apartment. Even now, she went numb with the same dismay and pain as when she realized the reason behind his sudden change of heart. At least today there wouldn’t be a days-long crying jag that followed. Or the whispers and consolations of well-intentioned neighbors and friends. Or the shame. Oh, the shame.
The details of Peyton’s current appearance turned blurry as tears coated Claire’s eyes. She squeezed them closed to stave off crying. When she opened them, she saw Peyton whisper something to Logan before she turned and left the store.
Breathe.
Her lungs burned—a feeling she’d once loved after an intense tennis match, but not one she welcomed now. Her muscles were tight. Honestly, she couldn’t believe that Peyton didn’t force a conversation. That woman never backed down from anything in