The Bakery Sisters

“How horrible.”

Wyatt glared at her. “We don’t think so, but thanks for sharing your enlightened and sensitive opinion. When you see a one-legged guy walking down the street, do you kick it out from under him?”

She blushed and glanced at his daughter. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was thinking about music and how …” There was no recovery from this, she thought as guilt swamped her. “I didn’t mean anything bad.”

“People like you never do.”

He wouldn’t understand, mostly because he didn’t want to. He assumed the worst about her and she seemed to do nothing but prove his point.

He began taking groceries out of the bags. She thought about offering to help, but knew he would refuse. Instead, she retreated to the living room and wondered if she should simply hire a nurse for Nicole and escape back to New York. At least there she fit in.

She sank onto one of the sofas and did her best not to cry. Why was everything going so wrong? How could she make things better? Because as easy as escaping would be, she didn’t want to be a quitter. She’d never quit. Not once—no matter how hard things got.

But this situation was impossible.

Amy walked into the room. Claire started to apologize for what she’d said, only to realize the child probably hadn’t heard her. Which meant she would have to explain why she was apologizing, assuming she could even get her point across. She sat there, feeling both stupid and awkward, not sure which was worse.

Amy didn’t seem to pick up on any of that. Instead she walked over to a bookshelf in the corner and picked up a large picture book. She carried it back to the sofa and handed it to Claire.

“You want me to read to you?” Claire asked, looking at the book. “Aren’t you too old for this book?”

Amy waved her hands to get Claire’s attention, then touched her chin. She motioned to her lips, then her eyes.

“See you speak.”

The words were spoken slowly, with exaggerated pronunciation.

Claire’s eyes widened. “You can talk?”

Amy raised her right hand and waggled it sideways, then held her thumb and index finger an inch or so apart.

“A little,” Claire said, feeling triumphant. “You can speak a little.”

Amy nodded. “My school teaches me.”

“Your school is teaching you to talk?”

Amy nodded. She pointed to her mouth again. “Lips.”

“And read lips?”

More nodding. The girl smiled. She pointed at the book. Claire opened it. There was a girl holding a book. Amy pointed at the girl, then made a fist and rubbed her thumb across her cheek.

“Girl” Amy repeated the motion. “Girl.”

Understanding dawned. “I get it,” Claire told her. “This is the sign for girl?”

Amy grinned and pointed to the book. She held both her hands together, as if she was praying, then opened them.

Claire repeated the gesture. “The sign for book?”

Amy nodded.

Claire flipped the page. “This is so cool. What else can you teach me?”

WYATT WALKED into Nicole’s room with coffee and the bagels he’d brought.

“Hey, sleepy.”

She opened her eyes and groaned. “Hey, yourself.”

“How do you feel?”

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

She winced as she pushed into a sitting position, then leaned back against the pillows. “You are such a liar, but thank you for that. I feel awful. I have to tell you, the drugs in the hospital are much better than the stuff you get at the pharmacy. Is that coffee?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you were allowed any.”

“So you brought it to taunt me?” She reached for the mug. “I’m supposed to take it easy and eat what sounds good. Coffee sounds like a miracle, right now.”

He set the tray on the nightstand, then pulled up a chair. After she’d taken her first sip and sighed with pleasure, he asked, “You doing okay with Claire?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? She’s staying away, which is my preference. Sid called my cell about a half hour ago.” She motioned to the small phone by the tray. “She went to the bakery this morning, apparently to help. He sent her away. Instead she managed to run into Phil and dump a five-pound bag of salt into a batch of bread dough. It’s totally ruined.”

“How did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

“She didn’t do it on purpose, did she?”

Nicole glared at him. “Probably not, but don’t you dare take her side.”

“Not my plan.”

“Good, because I’m not sure I could handle that. She’s even more useless than I’d first thought. She actually asked me about a cleaning service for her clothes. Apparently a few things are wrinkled and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. We should all have such problems. I hate her.”

“You don’t hate her.”

“I know, but I wish she’d go away.”

So did Wyatt. As it was, he was keeping his distance. The last thing he needed was another raging fire keeping him up at night … in both senses of the word.

Why her? Why couldn’t he have chemistry with someone else? Someone normal? Someone like Nicole? His body sure had a sense of humor.

Nicole glanced at the clock. “Where’s Amy?”

“Downstairs with your sister.”

“Check her before you leave. Who knows what Claire might do to her.”

“I’ll make sure she’s in one piece.” He stood and crossed to the bed, then kissed Nicole on the top of the head. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Come right away if you see smoke rising in the sky.”

“Promise.”

He went downstairs. As he entered the living room, he heard laughter. Amy sat next to Claire, watching intently as Nicole’s sister carefully signed the story in the picture book on her lap. Her movements were studied, but she got all the words right. When his daughter signed the word good, Claire laughed again.

“You’re a good teacher,” she said slowly.

Amy signed, “Good student.”

Claire reached out and hugged her.

Amy went easily into her arms.

Wyatt was unimpressed. Claire might be able to fool a child, but he knew better. She wasn’t going to be able to suck him in so easily.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Claire waited until she was sure Wyatt wasn’t going to show up, then made breakfast herself and carried it upstairs. She found her sister awake, which was a surprise. Every time she’d checked on Nicole the previous day, she’d been asleep, or pretending to sleep.

“You’re still here, I see,” Nicole said by way of greeting.

“Are you always this crabby in the morning, or is it me bringing out the worst in you?”

“You get all the credit.”

“Lucky me.”

She set the tray on the nightstand. Nicole looked over the simple meal.

“Thank you,” she said through obviously gritted teeth.

Claire was so proud, she could have floated. “The oatmeal is really good. I made it myself.”

“Two ingredients, including water. Very impressive.”

Claire refused to let her sister’s sarcasm spoil her happy mood. This was her first real breakfast and it had turned out with only one try. Yay, her. Today oatmeal, tomorrow, a sandwich!

Nicole reached for the bowl. “I thought maybe you were leaving.”

“No, sorry. I’m here until you’re back on your feet.” She thought about Jesse’s unexplained absence. “Unless you want me to call Jesse and ask her to come.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Nicole’s gaze turned icy. “Jesse is not welcome here.”

Okay, so there was a problem. Claire had already guessed as much. “When did you two stop speaking?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“What did she do?”

“What part of my previous statement didn’t you understand? She’s a born liar and a cheat. She lied to you about me wanting you here and she—” Nicole dropped her spoon back into the bowl. “Just go.”

Claire assumed she meant from the bedroom rather than the house. Either way she stayed in place. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s twenty-two and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Claire wanted to understand the problem, but she had a feeling that pushing wasn’t going to help. “You need to eat something.You’ll get better faster if you do.”

“Motivation. That’s good.” She took a small taste of the oatmeal. “Brown sugar?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nicole ate a little more while Claire hovered in the doorway. She wanted to go sit down, but that felt too intrusive.

The whole situation was crazy, she told herself. Why did things have to be so awkward? Although she knew the answer, she wanted it to be different. She wanted them to be different.

“Why aren’t you on tour?” Nicole asked as she reached for her coffee. “Is that what you do with your day? Play piano for people? Won’t your adoring fans miss you?”

Claire stiffened. Without wanting to, she remembered her last performance. The heat of the lights, the pressure in her ears, the murmur of the crowd and most of all, the tightness in her chest.

She’d been unable to catch her breath, and had walked out on stage, feeling as if she was going to have a heart attack and die. She’d been unable to focus on her playing. There had only been the thundering of her heart and the knowledge that she would collapse at any second.

She’d played badly because of it, she thought, recalling the humiliation. While she might play the same music over and over again, she always remembered that for her audience, this was a special event. They’d taken time from their busy lives, bought a ticket and come to see her. She owed them her best. That night she’d failed. Then she’d collapsed and had to be helped off the stage.

Shame filled her. She’d failed publicly. She’d let the panic win. Worse, she didn’t know how to keep it from winning.

“I didn’t mean for the question to be so hard,” Nicole said.

“I’m taking a break,” she murmured.

Nicole’s cell phone rang. She reached for it. “Hey, Sid. What’s up?” She paused, then groaned. “You have to be kidding. No, no. I understand.” Her gaze settled on Claire. “No way. Are you serious? But do you remember—Fine. It’s your call. I’ll tell her.”

Nicole hung up, then looked at Claire. “We have a problem at the bakery.”

Claire thought about the tumbling bag of salt and wondered what other damage it had done. “Which is?”

“Our two morning clerks called in sick. There’s no one to work the front counter. Normally I would fill in or ask Jesse, but neither of those are possible. You’re going to have to do it.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “What was unclear? Work the counter. Take money for goods. Don’t panic. There’s no actual math involved. The cash register does that for you. Just take their money and give them change. Even you can do that.”

Claire didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. The potential to screw up seemed huge. But Nicole needed her.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Fine. Stay away from the back.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Claire had changed and was heading to her car. She walked outside only to find Jesse leaning against her rental.

“Hey, big sister. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going? That’s all you have to say to me? You’re kidding, right?” She was both happy to see her sister and so angry she could spit. “You set me up. You lied to me. Nicole doesn’t want me here. She hates me. What is up with that? And why aren’t you around taking care of things?”

“Nicole and I are having some issues.”

“Guess what? I don’t care about that. How could you lie to me?”

Jesse, tall and thin, pretty, with hair down to her waist, straightened. “I didn’t lie. Nicole did have surgery and she does need you.”

“But she hates me. She’s not interested in reconciling and everyone she knows hates me.”

“Well, that’s true.” Jesse actually grinned. “She tells some great stories about you.”

“Great from whose perspective?”

“Anyone listening. Probably not you.” Jesse sighed. “She needs help. I know she thinks I don’t care about her, but I do. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re here and that’s what matters.”

Claire groaned. “It isn’t what matters. I don’t belong here.” Not that she was leaving, but still. “Every moment is uncomfortable. And who is Wyatt? He hates me, too. Did she spend all her time telling him horrible things about me?”

“Not all, but some. Wyatt and Nicole are friends. Have been for a long time. His stepbrother, Drew, married Nicole. They, ah, just broke up a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know if they’re going to get back together.”

Jesse crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke. Claire felt the undercurrents but didn’t know what they meant.

“She never even invited me to the wedding,” Claire murmured.

“Did you expect her to?”

“Of course. I would have come.”

“Assuming you weren’t playing for the queen that night.”

Claire glared at her. “Don’t you dare take any attitude with me, Jesse. Most of this is your fault.”

“I’m not the one who took off and left her family behind to go be famous.”

There was a bitterness in her sister’s words. Claire frowned. “Is that what you think happened? That I simply decided to go off and be famous? I was six years old. I didn’t get to decide anything. They decided for me.” Her parents, her teacher. One day she’d been living in Seattle and the next she was on a plane to New York. “They took me away from my family and no matter how much I begged, they wouldn’t let me come home.”

“Poor little prodigy,” Jesse said. “Is the fame too much? Are you having too much fun?”

“It’s not like that.”

But she didn’t bother explaining. No one wanted to know the truth. Not the past or the present. No one wanted to hear about the hours spent practicing, the late nights and early mornings, the delayed flights, the grueling schedule. No one cared that after a while, all the hotels rooms looked the same and that the only way she could tell what city she was in was by looking at the newspaper on her breakfast tray. That while she’d visited some of the most amazing places in the world, she’d never seen them. There wasn’t time.

“I’m a trained circus animal,” she said at last. “Nothing more.”

“You were the princess.” Jesse’s mouth twisted. “Fussed over, pampered. Wanted. Probably still are. It wasn’t like that here. At least not for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jesse shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Claire had a feeling it did matter a lot. “Why did you and Nicole fight?”

Jesse stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You’d better. It’s the reason you lied to me. You dragged me all the way out here to deal with some mess you couldn’t. So what happened?”

“I. “ Jesse drew in a breath. Her expression turned defiant. “Nicole caught me in bed with her husband. She wasn’t happy.”

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it. Shock flooded her. “You slept with your sister’s husband? You had sex with him?” It was impossible. Who did that sort of thing? “She’s family.”

“She would disagree with you about that. She disowned me.”

Jesse sounded so calm about all of this. As if what she’d done didn’t matter. Claire wanted to shake her. “Do you blame her? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t doing a lot of things but no one wants to hear that.”

Claire glared at her. “You need a better excuse than that. Sex doesn’t just happen. You didn’t stumble into him and suddenly you were having sex. It requires a plan, a relationship of some kind. I can’t believe it. How long were you seeing him?”

“We weren’t seeing each other. I told you. It just … It’s not …” Jesse straightened and walked back toward her car. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Ask me if I care.” No wonder Nicole was upset and crabby. Her own sister and her husband. “Are you in love with him?”

“Oh, please. Give me a little credit. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“But you slept with Drew?” None of this made sense to Claire. “Why?”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“What? Nicole walked in before you consummated the deal and that makes it okay?”

Jesse looked at her for a long time. “I know you won’t believe me. Nicole didn’t, either. I don’t know why it happened. Why it had to happen. Maybe because I’ve been a screwup my whole life. This is just one more way I’ve made things worse.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Jesse looked at her for a long time, then opened her car door. “Pretty funny. That’s what Nicole said.”

WYATT BUTTONED the back of his daughter’s blouse, then reached for the brush. She signed as he worked, but he pretended not to see. Amy wasn’t saying anything he wanted to hear.

But when she turned to face him and put her small hands on her hips, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He set down the brush and held out both hands, palms up, signing “What?”

“You know what,” Amy signed in response.

He did. He didn’t want to, but his daughter’s message had been clear enough.

“Not a good idea,” he signed back.

Which earned him the inevitable, “Why?”

Why? There were a thousand reasons, none of which he could explain to an eight-year-old.

“I want Claire,” she signed, her face getting that stubborn look he dreaded.

As a rule, Nicole looked after Amy from the time she left school until Wyatt got away from his work. If he was in the office, she would come there instead, but most afternoons he was on a job site—not a place he wanted his eight-year-old hanging out.

But with Nicole recovering from surgery, babysitting was becoming a problem. Amy wanted to propose her own solution.

He didn’t think telling her that Claire wasn’t the babysitting type would help. Amy wouldn’t know what that meant. He also couldn’t get into the fact that he’d decided to avoid Claire as much as possible. The sparks between them were too dangerous, not to mention unwanted.

“I like her,” Amy signed. “She’s nice.”

Wyatt could think of a lot of words to describe Claire and none of them included the word nice.

“She won’t want to,” he signed back. “She’s busy.”

Amy grinned. “She likes me.”

He didn’t know how to deal with that. Maybe Claire did like his kid—assuming she was capable of liking anyone but herself.

“I’m not asking for a pony,” Amy signed, making him smile.

It was their private joke. Nothing was too big as long as it wasn’t a pony.

He was trapped by his inability to tell his daughter the truth. That he didn’t trust Claire and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could control himself around her. How was that for a sad excuse?

“I’ll talk to Nicole and Claire,” he signed. “No pushing.”

Amy’s response was to throw herself into his arms. He pulled her against him and hugged her. Love filled him, as it always did around her.

He might have the worst luck with women, but when it came to kids, he’d been blessed with the best.

THE PARKING LOT at the bakery was jammed. Claire had to weave her way through cars just to get around to the back. She found a space by the wall and managed to pull in, although she had no idea how she was going to back out.

She walked purposefully across to the rear door of the building and entered. “Hello?”

When there was no answer, she headed toward what she assumed was the front of the bakery. She pushed open a swinging door and entered chaos.

There were people everywhere. They filled the waiting area, pushing aside tables and looking impatient.

There were so many people, she thought, feeling a little sick to her stomach. Did they all have to come at once?

Sid spotted her. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “We’re busy here.”

Before she could answer, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the back. He set her purse on a small desk, then reached into a box and pulled out a hairnet.

“Put this on.”

She took it and fumbled with it for a second, before he grabbed it and shoved it on her head. After thrusting an apron in her hands, he dragged her toward the front.

“Maggie will show you how to work the cash register. It’s easy. Punch in what they buy, tell them the total. Take their money. Credit cards are even easier. Good luck.”

With that he disappeared back into the bakery, leaving Claire standing there with no idea what to do.

The woman she’d seen the previous day handed someone change, then hurried over. “Prices are on the list here.” She showed Claire a laminated sheet of paper by a cash register. “Doughnuts, bagels, pastries. Don’t worry about the quantity button. If they buy five, hit the key five times.”

She quickly went over the basics of the machine, showed her how to work the credit card part of it, then pointed to the glowing number on the wall. “Call the next one.”

That was it? Thirty seconds of training and they were done? Claire looked around, not sure what to do. She glanced back at the wall.

“Um, number one-sixty-eight?”

“Here.” A well-dressed woman pushed to the front of the counter. “I need two dozen mixed bagels, the same with muffins, regular and fat-free cream cheese.”

Claire went over to where the bagels sat in metal baskets. She pulled out a small brown bag, reached for a tissue and started putting one of each kind of bagel into the bag. After a couple of seconds she realized the bag wasn’t going to be big enough. She pulled out a bigger one, then didn’t know how to get the bagels from the first bag into the second one.

“Can you hurry?” the woman asked impatiently. “I’m running late.”

“Um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Claire dumped the bagels into the second bag and continued filling the bag. When she got to ten, she’d gone through all the bagels, so she started back at the top of the case, trying not to bump into Maggie and the other man working.

She took the bagels to the woman. “I’m sorry. What else did you want?”

The woman looked at her like she was an idiot. “Cream cheese. Regular and fat-free. And two dozen muffins. Quickly.”

Claire turned, not sure where the cream cheese was. Maggie thrust two containers into her hands.

“Thanks,” Claire murmured, then went to get the muffins.

When she’d gathered everything, she went to the cash register. Her customer handed her a credit card. Claire stared at it, then the machine.

“Dear God, could you go slower?” the woman muttered.

Claire’s chest began to tighten. She ignored the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said with a smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Maggie came over and took the credit card. “I’ll ring this up. You go to the next customer.”

Claire nodded and looked at the number reader. “One seventy-four.”

Two teenagers in uniforms stepped forward. “A cherry-cheese Danish and a medium coffee. Leave lots of room for milk, please,” the first girl said.

“Sure.” Claire drew in deep breaths, but that didn’t make the pain go away. The tightness only increased until it made her ears ring.

She moved around Maggie and stood in front of the display case. “Which one?” she asked the teenager.

“The one with the cherry and cheese on it,” the girl said and pointed. “Hello. That one.”

Claire reached for a tissue and pulled it from the case. She handed it to the girl, then went to get coffee.

There were four dispensers standing in a row. She took a cup and managed to fill it nearly full. When she carried it back to the teenager, the girl stared at her.

“Medium, not small and real coffee, not decaf. What’s wrong with you?”

Claire looked at the cup, then back at the stacks of them. At the same time she saw a little sign above the dispenser she’d used saying Decaf.

The chest pain got worse. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how much air she sucked in, it wasn’t going into her lungs. She was going to pass out and then she was going to die.