The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,81

by coming, and Logan would be pleased, too. The items she’d found had also made the trip worthwhile.

With Ellen’s help, she’d ordered two leather chairs—similar to what she’d shown Logan in her virtual plan—that could be delivered immediately. She didn’t want them that soon, though. First, Steffi needed to install the trim work on the living room wall and repaint the entire unit.

She’d also selected a round ebony dining table, which perfectly fit the space. The white-and-gray dining chairs she’d bought would complement the other furnishings.

Thankfully, all of those items had been on sale, which enabled her to splurge on a several-thousand-dollar Tibetan carpet for the dining room. Its rampant floral-and-ivy pattern, with bits of gold and blue, was splashed across a black field. “Magnificent” was the only word for the gorgeous woven work of art.

“I’ll get back to you this week once I have an estimated delivery date on the Century Del Mar sofa in the green velvet.” Ellen collected the papers while handing Claire copies. “We’ll hold the rest of these items for you for a few weeks.”

“I’ll have a better idea of the timing on my end in a few days.” Claire needed to speak with Steffi about how soon she could have the unit ready to accept the furniture.

“Perfect.” Ellen smiled at Claire, pushing her frameless glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. “I’d love to see pictures when the project is done. Your drawings are fabulous.”

“Thank you.” Claire stood with her tear sheets, fabric samples, and receipts in hand, and grabbed Rosie. “Have a great evening.”

Her shopping-spree high plummeted when she walked outside into an unexpected end-of-March snowfall.

Today’s forecast had called for a chance of rain along the coast, but when she’d left home under a pale-gray sky free of storm clouds, she’d figured the weatherman had been wrong. Unfortunately, he was, just not in the way that she’d thought.

A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin once she slid into the driver’s seat. She flexed her hands on the steering wheel a few times and licked her lips before turning over the ignition.

You can do this.

Snowflakes melted on the pavement, making the roads slick. Her wipers squeaked against the windshield, each swipe leaving a streaky trail. She performed deep-breathing exercises as she eased onto I-91 southbound.

When she’d driven up to Hartford, the Sunday-morning traffic had been light, as she’d expected. Now, she found herself in the middle of a multilane snake of taillights moving at warp speed. Ski racks and Thules topped half the cars. Obviously, everyone who’d gone to Vermont this weekend for spring skiing had decided to drive home at the same time.

For fifteen minutes, she crept along in the far right lane, wincing with each flashing light and honking horn coming from angry drivers eager to pass her in their rush to wherever they were going. She strained to see through grimy windows littered with the gritty spray kicked up by other tires. Tears streamed down her face, and her fingers ached from their tight grip on the wheel.

Ahead, red taillights lit up one by one like a fall of dominoes. She slammed the brakes, her heart racing. Traffic slowed to a crawl, thanks to a three-car pileup that forced everyone to move over two lanes.

The entire hood of the middle car in that accident had crumpled like an accordion, with steam billowing into the cold air. Its driver appeared to be checking on someone in the passenger seat. The other two cars had sustained moderate damage, and both their drivers stood outside making phone calls. No ambulances or police had arrived on the scene, which meant it had just happened. If she’d left the Design Outlet a few minutes earlier, she might’ve been hit.

The sickening thought soured her stomach. When her phone rang, she saw Steffi’s number on the dashboard.

“Hello?” she choked.

“Hey,” Steffi began brightly, but quickly changed her tune. “Are you crying?”

Claire sniffled again, too terrified to think. “Yes.”

“What happened? Did Logan do something?” Steffi’s anger rang through the line.

“No. I drove to Hartford today, but now there’s so much traffic. It’s snowing up here, and I just barely missed being in an accident. I’m afraid. I don’t think I can make it all the way home.”

“Where are you?”

Claire looked ahead to the next green road sign. “Coming up on Meriden.”

“Pull off the highway and park somewhere safe. Text me your location and I’ll come get you.”

Her chin wobbled, but she fought against crying. “I can’t leave my