The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,72
lips inward as if remembering that they were no longer on joking terms. “I am stronger today. More rested. Maybe the sea air is working.”
“Well . . .” She wanted to say that she was glad to hear it, but that would sound phony given the resentment she’d clung to for so long. “Steffi and Logan will be happy to hear it.”
“Steffi and Logan . . . ,” Peyton repeated quietly. “Yes, I think so.”
Claire nodded, a hard lump forming in her throat. “Thanks for considering my feelings about the wedding stuff. I’ll call you in a couple of days to talk about party ideas, although Steffi’s always hated bachelorette parties. Maybe we need to think up some other way to celebrate.”
“I’ll give it more thought.” Peyton tightened her scarf and stepped outside, glancing over her shoulder. “Good luck, Claire.”
Claire closed the door but then went to the living room window and watched Peyton drive away. Her empty, quiet house closed in from all sides. She tugged at the collar of her turtleneck in search of oxygen.
No one was there to upset her, but no one was there to comfort her, either. The African violets, though living, were hardly a substitute for a confidante. She was alone, as usual. The difference today was that she knew she didn’t have to be if she could only follow Logan’s advice and let go . . . of it all.
By four o’clock, she was suffocating. After pulling her hair into a short ponytail, she slipped on shoes, grabbed her keys, and headed to the library. A new book or two would give her the perfect escape hatch.
Naomi was at the checkout desk wearing a T-shirt that read “Me? Weird? Always.” She looked up when she heard Rosie thumping along the carpet. “Hey, you. Loading up or unloading?”
“Loading up.” Claire set down three new novels. Two dukes and one rogue earl—historical-romance nirvana.
Naomi flipped open the first cover and scanned the code. “Guess you already read next month’s discussion book?”
“I did.” The memoir Educated had reminded her, in some ways, of The Glass Castle.
“What did you think?” Naomi scanned the second book.
“I can’t believe how she triumphed despite all she endured.” There’d been moments while reading it that Claire had needed to physically put it down and walk away.
The author had been raised by paranoid Mormon survivalists in Idaho who’d forbidden her to go to school. Despite that and many other crazy things, she eventually became a Brigham Young graduate who earned a PhD from Cambridge. Although the author’s tale of transformation was inspiring, Claire also had an unpleasant recognition that her family’s PTSD and paranoia resulting from her accident—if taken to extremes—could turn out to be very bad. She saw herself as if standing at the top of a sliding board, and if she kept on her current path, she might slide closer to an extreme place of isolation and fear before she realized what was happening.
“You know I’ve got a healthy paranoia about our government, but her dad made me look like a poster child for patriotism and pop culture.” Naomi scanned Claire’s final book, checked her screen, and typed something. She passed the stack across the counter. “These should be a nice change of pace.”
“Romantic, escapist, and happy.” Claire dumped the books into her tote bag.
“If romance is what you crave, you might be better off with a real man instead of those book boyfriends.” Naomi set her elbows on the counter and leaned forward.
“Easier said than done.”
“I heard you took that job for Logan Prescott.” Naomi eyed her. “Pat and her pragmatism got to you, or maybe something more motivated your decision, eh?”
“Just bills. Lots and lots of bills.” She knew her blush gave her away, which made her feel doubly foolish.
“I doubt that.” With a shrug, Naomi drummed the countertop with her hands. “Want a little advice from an old spinster?”
“Sure.”
“You and I, we’re not the same kind of people. You’re not cut out for the solo gig. You need people, Claire, and you deserve something better than books to keep you up at night. Don’t let one bad apple make you run screaming from the orchard. Grab hold and experiment with all kinds of apples until you find one with the perfect bite—or in your case, maybe you’d prefer one covered in caramel.”
Claire laughed for the first time all day, although she wondered if Naomi had been hurt deeply in the past. “That does sound tempting. I’ll keep it