The Bakery Sisters

“I don’t have any current tour dates,” she said. “It’s close to summer. The season winds down during the late spring. Everything starts back up in the fall.”

Wyatt pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and took the chair across from hers. “You didn’t cancel anything to look after Nicole?”

“No. Would it have been better if I had?”

“I don’t know. We were talking about it last night. I dropped by to check on her.”

He’d been at the house? Claire fought a sense of loss for having missed the visit.

“I would have canceled dates to be here,” she said. “Not that Nicole would believe that.”

“She can be tough.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

He smiled. “You’re more alike than either of you realize.”

Because they were twins. There was a connection. At least there had been.

“How does it work?” he asked. “Do you just play out of New York? Are you with an orchestra? I don’t know anything about what you do.”

It was a simple question that might have been brought on by casual interest. Nothing more. Yet she felt both flustered and pressured.

“I, um, usually book for individual nights. I can do a series in a city, as well. I’ve played with different orchestras in the past. For a season or part of a season. But I—” Her chest tightened and not because Wyatt was so good-looking. “I’m not playing anymore. I can’t.”

“You’re a little young to retire.”

“I haven’t retired. I just…” She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to be ashamed of her. Yet she couldn’t seem to hold in the words. “I can’t play. I have panic attacks.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t understand the words.

“They started last year,” she said in a rush. “I was so tired. I wanted a break and I was looking forward to doing nothing for a few weeks. But Lisa wanted to book me on a special summer tour. I got upset and sort of faked a panic attack. She totally backed off. I know it was wrong. I know the mature thing to do was tell her the truth, right? I’m an adult. It’s my life, but it’s just not that easy.”

She grasped the glass in both hands and stared at the contents. It was better than looking at him.

“I faked a couple more attacks, just to get her off my back. But then one day an attack happened on its own and I couldn’t control it. I guess I’d gotten so good at faking them that they became real. They got worse and worse and now they control me. I barely got through the final week of my schedule and I collapsed at my last performance.”

She ducked her head as shame rushed through her. She felt the heat on her cheeks. As much as she tried to forget what had happened, she relived the experience over and over again.

“I’m so ashamed. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been to a therapist, who has tried to help. I know in my head that as long as I believe this is the only way I can get power, I can’t get better. But I don’t know how to change how I feel. And what if I can’t play again? This is all I know. It’s who I am. What will I be without that?”

Wyatt regretted bringing up the subject of her playing more than he could say. Now he was faced with an obviously upset Claire and he had no idea what to do or tell her. This was completely foreign to him—not just female and emotional, but nothing he’d ever experienced.

“Maybe, uh, if you saw, you know, someone else,” he mumbled. “Another therapist.”

“I guess I could try. I just don’t know.”

She looked small and broken, which made him feel like crap. In typical guy-speak, he wanted to tell her to ignore the problem and it would eventually go away. But he knew that wouldn’t help.

“I hate feeling helpless,” she said. “Weak.”

Weak he could handle, he thought with relief. He was strong and tough. He could protect her. He could offer to…

He put on the mental brakes and did a one-eighty. Protect her? Where had that come from? He didn’t want to protect any female, except for Amy. And maybe Nicole because she was his friend. But not romantically. He didn’t get involved—ever.

Sex was fine. He liked sex, looked forward to it. He understood it. But caring, feeling and anything else emotional? No way. He knew the disaster that could result. He came from a long line of men who totally screwed up when it came to women. Drew and his ex-wife were only the latest illustrations.

“To be honest,” Claire said, “Jesse’s call came at a perfect time. Not that I wouldn’t have come no matter what. I would have. But I’m kind of hiding out from my manager and Nicole’s surgery gave me the perfect reason to disappear. Is that terrible?”

He thought about how she’d totally accepted his daughter, learning sign language and listening patiently as Amy slowly worked to speak clearly. He thought about how she’d kept showing up with Nicole, despite her sister’s ill temper. He remembered her sitting at the piano, playing as if it was as important to her as breathing. How her gift and abilities had stunned him.

“It’s not terrible,” he said. “Everyone needs a place to go when things get hard.”

“According to Nicole, they’re not hard for me at all.”

“She doesn’t know everything.”

“She thinks she does.”

“She’s wrong,” he said, staring into her blue eyes. There was something there, a hint of sadness, but something else. Something he couldn’t place. Interest? Passion?

Talk about projecting what he wanted to see.

Still, he found himself wanting to hold her. To put his arms around her and be the rock she needed for a while. Of course there was also a part of him that wanted to drag her close and kiss her until they were both breathless.

Claire smiled. “Thanks for listening. It helped.”

“Good. Want to stay for dinner?”

The invitation had come from nowhere. He was rewarded by a slow smile that heated his blood.

“I’d love to.”

NICOLE TOLD HERSELF she wasn’t actually watching the clock. What did she care if Claire was taking a long time to return Amy. It wasn’t as if she was worried or even cared. Claire was nothing to her.

Still, as the clock in the great room ticked along, she found herself getting nervous and thinking about accidents and car jackings.

“You’re being stupid,” she muttered to herself. “If something bad had happened, you would have heard by now.”

Just then, someone knocked on the front door.

Nicole pushed herself into a standing position and started toward the door. She wasn’t moving very quickly and the person knocked again before she could get there.

“I’m coming,” she yelled, annoyance sliding over worry. “Hang on a sec.”

Expecting to see a uniformed police officer or sheriff, she could only stare at the well-dressed older woman standing in front of her.

“Who are you?” the other woman asked coldly.

“No one who is going to answer that question,” Nicole told her. “You must have the wrong house.”

“Is Claire Keyes here?”

Nicole hesitated a second before saying, “Not at the moment.”

“But this is where she disappeared to?” Her dark gaze moved over Nicole before dismissing her. Her red lips thinned. “You’re the sister, I presume.”

Nicole felt no need to confirm or deny. “Who are you?”

“Lisa Whitney. I’m Claire’s manager.”

With that, the other woman swept into the house. Nicole didn’t think she’d healed enough to physically throw the other woman out, so she closed the door and followed her into the great room.

Lisa shrugged out of her tailored coat, revealing a slim body, quality clothing in neutral colors and a handbag with a designer label. Nicole’s idea of high fashion was a cashmere blend twin set, so she didn’t recognize the shoes, but would guess they cost as much as a decent used car. Lisa’s short brown hair was expertly styled, her makeup suited her face and the gold earrings, watch and necklace were probably real and 18 karat. Nicole pretty much hated her on sight.

Lisa draped her coat over the back of a chair and looked around. “She’s really staying here?” The tone of the question implied this place wouldn’t be much better than sleeping in a car.

“In my house, you mean? Yes. She’s staying here.”

“I see. What about practice? I don’t see a piano. Is she taking classes?”

“Not that it’s your business, but there’s a piano downstairs.”

Lisa looked at her. “Everything about Claire is my business. How much is she practicing? Four hours a day works best. She can get by on three and much more than five doesn’t help anyone.” She paused expectantly.

Nicole didn’t know what to say. Until last night, she hadn’t been sure Claire was playing at all. She told herself she didn’t owe her intruder anything.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I don’t keep track of her.”

“You should. Is she eating well? Getting enough sleep?”

“Claire is twenty-eight. She’s capable of getting herself food and putting herself to bed.” Jeez, no wonder her sister was totally useless. She’d never been allowed to be a real person.

Lisa glared at her. “Claire isn’t like the rest of us. She is a gifted artist. If she isn’t watched, she’ll work herself into the ground. She needs rest. A lot of rest. The last few years have been grueling. There seemed to be a window of opportunity. We had to take advantage of that.” She hesitated over her next words. “Claire said it was too much, but I knew what was possible. Now she’s at the top. We must do everything we can to keep her there.”

Nicole wasn’t clear on who this Lisa person was, but she knew she didn’t like her.

“There is no ‘we’ in this.”

Lisa ignored that and walked the length of the room. “Do you know if she looked at the schedule I sent? It should have arrived today.”

Nicole thought about the FedEx package in the kitchen. “No, she hasn’t seen it.”

“She can study it tonight. We need to get going if we’re going to confirm for this fall. It’s already so late, but there were openings. There’s so much for her to do. Learn new music, schedule fittings and media events. Publicity is a large part of what we do. There’s the travel to set up. It’s only thirty concert dates in four months, but still. Preparations must be made.”

Thirty concerts in four months? Nicole did the math. That was about a concert every four or five days. If they weren’t in the same city, that meant travel to and from. Add in the four hours of practice Lisa seemed to require, along with fittings, interviews and who knows what else, it made for a busy day.

Was that really Claire’s life? Constant travel and practice, with the possibly evil Lisa watching over everything?

Nicole remembered Claire telling her that her life was more difficult than it seemed. Not that Nicole was impressed or felt bad or anything. It was still a lot easier than living in the real world.

Lisa crossed to the front window and stared out. “Has she said anything about the recordings?”

“No.” What recordings?

“She’s been invited to be on several CDs. I know she’ll accept the ones for charity. She always does.” Lisa seemed annoyed by that fact. “But some of the others would be helpful, too.”

Recording sessions in addition to everything else? It made Nicole tired hearing about it.

“At least she gets to see all those cities she travels to,” Nicole said, more to herself than to Lisa.

Lisa turned to look at her. “It’s not her job to see the cities. It’s her job to practice and play and give interviews. Of course she would rather run away. I don’t know how I let things get so out of hand.”

Lisa walked back to the chair and picked up her coat. “I will not simply stand around waiting for her. Please tell her she can call me on my cell. And that I’m not leaving Seattle until we get this disaster straightened out.”

Nicole didn’t know what the disaster was and she didn’t want to know. Fortunately, Lisa was no longer her problem. She listened to the familiar sound of a car in the driveway.

“Tell her yourself,” she said. “She just got home.”

“I’M BACK,” CLAIRE CALLED as she walked into the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. Wyatt asked me to join them for dinner, which turned out to be KFC. It’s their one fast-food night a week and Amy picked. Have you eaten there? It’s really—”

She walked into the living room, saw Lisa standing next to Nicole and instantly wished she hadn’t had that extra chicken leg.

“Hello, Claire,” Lisa said coolly. “Tell me you didn’t actually eat fried chicken.”

Lisa had always had the ability to make her feel small and stupid. An apology hovered on her tongue, but she bit it back. She was a grown-up and if she wanted to eat fast food, she would. It was her right.

“Yes, I did. It was delicious.”

Lisa pressed her lips together. “What about the diet I gave you? It’s nutritionally balanced, with a strong emphasis on soy.”

Nicole made a gagging sound, then held up both her hands, palms out. “Sorry. She just showed up. I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Claire said. She couldn’t hide from Lisa forever. Although it was a lovely daydream.

Lisa ignored the exchange. “I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you, Claire. Disappearing like that, with no warning. Just a voice mail to tell me you were gone. You’ve been ignoring my calls. Did you think that would work? That I would just go away?”

Claire squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I had a family emergency,” she said, then prayed Nicole wouldn’t pipe in with a stinging comment about how Claire wasn’t exactly welcome here.

Fortunately, for once her sister was silent.

Lisa’s gaze flickered over Nicole, then returned to her. “Everything seems to be fine on that front. I assume you’re returning to New York shortly?”

“I am not.”

“What about the fall schedule? It’s already half the dates it should be. If you are not out there, people will forget who you are. Brilliance isn’t enough. You know that. You know how easily everything can be lost.”

It was a message Claire had been hearing for years. She’d once heard a university professor complaining about the “publish or perish” rule. For Claire it was “perform or perish.”

“I can’t take anything on right now,” she said firmly. “I have no idea when I’ll be returning to any kind of schedule.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

Claire wanted to ask if she remembered what had happened the last time she’d gone on stage. How she’d collapsed and humiliated herself. How the panic had won. But she was too aware of Nicole listening and too ashamed to tell her sister the truth.

“There are people depending on you,” Lisa continued. “You are an industry. People’s livelihoods are at stake.”

Another line Claire had heard dozens of times. Couldn’t Lisa get some new material?

“Mostly yours,” she snapped. “If you want to resign as my manager, I don’t have a problem with that.”

Lisa took a step back. “No. That’s not what I mean.” She cleared her throat. “Claire, dear. I had no idea you were so upset. Of course you must have time with your family. I shouldn’t push you.”

It was amazing how Lisa could play both sides of good cop, bad cop and never miss a step.

Claire hated this. Hated having to disappoint people, hating not being able to play. But that’s where she was right now—trapped with a talent she couldn’t use. She was bone tired and not willing to get back onto the treadmill that was her life. She was tired of making decisions based on what everyone else wanted. What about what she wanted?

An excellent question, if only she had an answer.

“It doesn’t matter if you push me,” she said. “I’m not changing my mind. I’m here until Nicole is better. I might stay longer, I don’t know. I’m not willing to make any commitments for the fall or any other time. I won’t be pushed. So you need to just back the hell off.”

Lisa stared at her for a long time. “All right. I can see you’re not ready to come home. That’s fine. I’ll wait. You know how to find me.”

Claire nodded but didn’t speak. She stayed where she was until Lisa had left, then collapsed onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands.

“Impressive,” Nicole said. “You really stood up to her.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Claire dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m shaking.”

“That’ll pass. She’s really your manager?”

“Has been since I was twelve.”

“She’s scary.”

“Tell me about it. But she’s also the best. There are a lot of talented musicians out there who haven’t had half the opportunities I have.”

Nicole settled into a chair across from the sofa. “She talked about your concert dates, the practice, fittings, media interviews. Is that a regular day?”

Claire leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. “Pretty much. There isn’t a lot of free time. Sometimes I feel like those hamsters in a cage, running on a wheel. You go and go, but you don’t get anywhere and the view never changes. I will say it’s gotten easier. I know a lot of the music. When I was younger, I had to learn everything. That was a nightmare.”

She paused, then braced herself for the sarcastic attack to follow. Nicole wasn’t one to walk away from a good comeback.

But her sister only said, “It sounds tough.”

Claire opened her eyes. “Are you feeling all right? Do you have a fever?”

Nicole shifted in her seat. “No. I’m fine. It’s possible that after talking to Lisa I’ve come to see that maybe your life isn’t as princessy as I’d first thought. That there might be actual work involved.”

“Oh, really.” Claire sat up and smiled. “Which would mean you’re…”

“What?”

“You know. Say it. If you’re not right, you’re…”

Nicole shook her head. “Forget it. We’re not going there. I’m saying I might have been misinformed. That’s as good as you’re getting.”

“Wrong,” Claire told her. “The word you’re looking for is wrong.”

“Never. So you stayed to have dinner with Wyatt?”

“Uh-huh. We went out. Amy’s great. I really like her a lot.”

“How do you feel about Wyatt?”

Claire had the sudden sense of stepping into dangerous territory. “He’s a great dad. Patient and caring. Those two obviously love each other.”

Nicole studied her for a long time. “They do. Amy’s his world.”

“I can really tell. He, uh, isn’t seeing anyone, is he?”

Nicole stood. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just wondered. He’s really nice and it seems like he would have remarried again.”

Nicole’s expression hardened. The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. “I can’t believe it,” she yelled. “You’re attracted to him? No way. You are so not dating him. You can just forget it. He’s my friend. Mine. Do you hear me? It’s bad enough that Jesse slept with Drew. There is no way in hell you’re going to sleep with Wyatt.” With fists clenched, Nicole made an abrupt about-face and left the room.

CHAPTER TEN

CLAIRE HAD NEVER BEEN on a construction site before. She got out of her car and looked for the trailer Wyatt had described. She saw it off to one side, but instead of heading directly toward it, she paused to look at what was going on.

The huge space had been cleared of most of the trees, although there were still several in what she guessed would be backyards. A few of the houses were already framed, while others were little more than stakes pushed into dirt. Big, loud equipment dug out foundations and moved soil.

She’d never thought about all the effort that went in to building a house. Or several houses. It looked complicated, and almost miraculous. How could someone create a house from nothing? How did anyone know what to do first, then second and so on until it was finished? Who figured all that stuff out?

Not a question she was going to get answered just standing here, she reminded herself and walked toward the trailer.

She was about halfway there, when a tall, thin man with a mustache stopped her.

“Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve seen all morning,” he said with a smile. “I’m Spike. Who are you?”

Spike? She’d never met anyone called Spike before. She took in the tattoos on his arm, his University of Washington T-shirt and the big smile that seemed to welcome her. She appreciated his friendliness.

“I’m Claire. I’m looking after Wyatt’s daughter. He forgot to sign a permission slip so I brought it by.”

Spike looked her over. “You’re one of those fancy nannies?”

That sounded a whole lot better than an out-of-work, panic-filled piano player. “Sort of.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Claire.”

“You, too.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’ve just started looking after Amy. I’m new to Seattle.”

“Need someone to show you around?”

Was this flirting? Was he flirting? She wished she knew more about men and women and how they interacted with each other. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing or feel stupid.

“I have a GPS system,” she told him. “I’m doing okay.”

Spike chuckled. “You’re doing better than that, darlin’.”

Oh, my. Not sure how to respond, she smiled. “I, ah, need to get this to Wyatt, then back to the school. It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too. We could get a drink sometime.”

She froze in the act of taking a step. Had Spike just asked her out?

She turned back to him. Would it be a date? A real, live date? “That would be nice,” she said, and continued toward the trailer.

Okay, so she wasn’t desperately interested in Spike. At least going out with him would be practice, so she could do a better job when she met someone she really liked. Besides, he seemed nice enough. Maybe she was judging him too quickly.

As she approached the trailer, the door flung open. Wyatt stood in the opening, glowering at her.

“Why were you talking to Spike?” he demanded.

“What? I don’t know. We were just chatting.”

“It looked like more than that.”

“You’re right. We were planning our elopement. We’re going to have to wait until his day off.”

Wyatt stepped back and motioned for her to enter the trailer. “You’re not good at sarcasm.”

“Give me time, I’ll get better.”

He stared at her; his dark eyes seemed to see into her soul. “Did he ask you out?”

Why was Wyatt acting like this? “He mentioned getting a drink.”

Wyatt closed the door behind her. The trailer wasn’t huge and most of the space was filled with desks and filing cabinets. Blueprints had been pinned up on the wall, showing the different floor plans. At least she thought that’s what they were.

Wyatt stood close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He didn’t look happy.

“You don’t want to date Spike,” he told her.

Which was true, but she hated being told that by him. “Because you say so?”

“Because he’s only been out of prison a couple of months. He’s a good worker, but he was convicted for assault. He’s on probation now.”

Claire swallowed. Prison? As in incarceration? Okay, then. “I’m sure everyone deserves a second chance,” she said primly, suddenly relieved she hadn’t given Spike her phone number. Not that he’d asked.

“He’s also married.”

“What? Are you serious? Married?”

That was so unfair, she thought, suddenly furious. Not that she was all that interested in dating Spike, but married? At this rate she was never going to have a relationship, never going to have sex. She was a freak on too many levels, she thought as she stared at her hands. Why couldn’t she be normal, like other people?

“You sound upset,” Wyatt told her. “Is his wife going to get in the way of your plans?”

“Don’t be mean,” she said, suddenly feeling defeated. “I’m not interested in Spike, which you probably could have guessed. I don’t care that he’s married, it’s just…”

This was so her life, she thought sadly. Where had she gone wrong? How was she going to make things different?