“I’m not sure they ever will.” Considering what April thought, Claire doubted it…?.

Carrie lowered her voice. “April thinks Roni caused her father’s death. Divorces are difficult, but suicide…that’s an individual choice.”

Perhaps. But Roni could be more culpable than she let on—for April’s father’s suicide and Alana’s disappearance, not that Claire wanted to accept that. She had too many positive memories of her stepmother taking her back-to-school shopping or planning her birthday parties or snapping pictures of her in her prom dress.

Instead of answering, Claire pretended complete absorption while measuring the hair on either side of Carrie’s face. “Looks straight,” she murmured, and backed away. “How do you like it?”

Carrie’s smile was more hesitant than Claire would’ve liked. “It’s…going to take some getting used to.”

She looked darling, much better than when she’d walked in, but familiarity counted for a lot. Claire just hoped Carrie did get used to the change, and that her ultraconservative husband would react favorably. She couldn’t deal with a disgruntled client today, not one who was disgruntled over an improvement. “I think the new look takes five years off your age.”

She perked up. “Really?”

“Definitely.”

The bell jingled over the door. As Claire removed Carrie’s drape, she turned to welcome her next client, but it was her sister.

“Where’d you go last night?” Leanne demanded without the courtesy of a greeting. Obviously, she was still angry.

A trickle of unease went through Claire. She didn’t want another confrontation with her sister, especially with Carrie listening in. If her parents or David’s parents learned she was seeing Isaac, they wouldn’t be happy. They’d remind her of what happened last time and she’d probably end up in another argument with them. “Funny you should ask. Give me a minute so we don’t hold Carrie up,” she said, and turned back to her client. “That’s twenty-five dollars, as always.”

Leanne’s displeasure hung over the room like an over-cast sky. No doubt Carrie could sense it. She kept glancing at Lee as she wrote her check. “Here you go.” She seemed about to linger, no doubt hoping to hear their conversation. But Claire walked her to the door.

“It was great to see you, Car. Sorry I missed book group but I’ll be there next week.”

Carrie’s eyes darted back to Leanne. “You should come, too, Lee. This week we’re reading Room by Emma Donoghue. It’s a really intriguing story.”

“I have no interest in books.” Leanne said it as if she had no interest in the group, either, which she didn’t. Claire had invited her before. She said she’d have plenty of time for book groups when she was old and couldn’t do anything more “fun.”

Perhaps some of the members weren’t the most interesting people in town—a few were downright stuffy—but reading helped Claire keep her mind off David, and knowing she had a deadline made her more focused on getting through each book. Without that, she’d lie in front of the TV every night missing her husband, something she did far too often as it was.

“Thanks again.” Claire held the door.

Since she was cornered into leaving, Carrie finally nodded. “See you Thursday.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung shut. “I’m expecting another client,” she said. “So if you’ve come to start an argument, I’d appreciate it if you waited until I’m off. You might get your workshop all to yourself every day, but I have to maintain a professional atmosphere.”

Leanne maneuvered the chair to face her. “Quit trying to delay this. No one’s here now, and it won’t take you more than a second to explain why you never came home last night—again.”

“If what you do is none of my business, then what I do is none of yours, right?”

This wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she found words. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“That’s all.” If she didn’t offer a lie, Leanne couldn’t catch her in it later.

Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Are you seeing someone, Claire?”

“No. Stop it.”

“You are, aren’t you? It’s Isaac Morgan! You’ve gone back to him.”

Claire wasn’t surprised she’d guessed, not when she’d seen his truck in front of her place twice—and it had stayed there all night one of those times. But it was important to downplay her and Isaac’s relationship, or the whole town would start buzzing with the news that David’s widow was having sex with her former lover.

“He’s a friend. That’s all.”

“A friend who spends the night with you?”

Denying it wasn’t going to work. Even if she could convince Leanne, Leanne wasn’t the only one who knew they’d been together. Rusty did, too. And other people might have seen her get into Isaac’s truck when he picked her up on the street. Isaac wasn’t the boy next door; he had a reputation. No one would believe they were hanging out together as mere friends.

Which left Claire one option—to confront all questions with absolute transparency. If she admitted to a romantic involvement, there’d be less for the curious to ferret out and, she hoped, the scandal would blow over more quickly.

“Yes, actually. Friends with benefits,” she said. “You’ve heard of that, right?” Of course she had, but Claire didn’t want her to think she was trying to get away with less than the truth.

“Everyone’s heard of that, except maybe the ladies you see on Thursday nights. Some of them grew up in the Big Band Era. So you’re not really…dating.”

“Nope. Just sleeping together.” And their encounters generally included some force-feeding, but no one would care about that. It wasn’t sensational enough. “Does that answer your question?”

Leanne gaped at her. “Do you realize who he is, Claire?”

“I know he’s amazing in bed. That’s all that matters at the moment.”

“But just a couple nights ago you were warning me not to ruin my reputation. Now you’re going to sew a giant F on your chest? Be the talk of the town? Even when Isaac tries to be discreet, people pay too much attention to him. He’s a celebrity around here, for crying out loud.”

Claire angled her chin in a belligerent fashion. “You said you don’t mind gossip. Maybe I decided to take a page from your book.”

They glared at each other—until Leanne broke the silence.

“Claire, listen. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so close to the edge. I know what happened with Mom really did a number on you, but you’ve always been strong. I guess…I guess I figured you could move on if I could. Losing her wasn’t easy on me, either. But…I feel responsible for this, as if I pushed you into his arms. We haven’t been getting along and that hasn’t left you with anyone you can really talk to. But I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Claire didn’t want to hear this. She bent over her desk to count the number of clients remaining on the schedule. Already dead on her feet, she wished she could just crawl into bed.

Fortunately, her workday ended at four, only two hours away. Maybe she’d have time for a nap before the big date. “Come on, you’re overreacting. What do you think he’s going to do to me?”

What he’d done to her before, of course. At least Leanne wasn’t asking about April. The book group ladies must not have mentioned seeing her car there when they went to Leanne’s house. It could get back to her eventually, but it wasn’t now and that was a small blessing. Maybe with such big news as her involvement with Isaac hitting the gossip scene, that tidbit would fall by the wayside completely.

One could hope. She’d didn’t want to hurt Roni.

“You’re kidding!” Leanne said. “Isaac Morgan’s a bona fide heartbreaker, and no one knows that better than you. And now you’re on the rebound. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

God, even her hard-drinking sister could plainly see what was in store. Still, Claire wouldn’t acknowledge the danger. If she did pay a price for her actions, she’d suffer without letting anyone know, unless, of course, that price included pregnancy. But she’d deal with that if she had to. “I won’t get hurt. He’s just a friend, a way to break up the monotony.”