The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(39)

She was eyeing the weird-looking starfruit while pushing her cart when she banged into another cart. She said, “Sorry,” just before looking up, straight into Mrs. Prescott’s pale-blue eyes. “Oh! Hello, Mrs. Prescott.”

Rarely did Darla Prescott do domestic chores. Must be a special occasion.

Mrs. Prescott beamed at her before grabbing Claire’s shoulders and pumping out a round of air-kisses. “Claire! What a pleasant surprise. Logan has been singing your praises. And Peyton was very happy to speak with you last week.” She clapped her hands to her heart. “You look wonderful, dear. Did you change your hair?”

Claire figured her face matched the shade of the pomegranates in Mrs. Prescott’s cart. “I got some highlights.”

She smoothed her own golden locks and winked. “We blondes do have more fun.”

“We’ll see.” Claire forced a blithe tone and grin although she could not be less comfortable than if she had a gun to her head. And that was saying something.

“Speaking of fun, I didn’t see your RSVP to the fund-raiser. I know why you didn’t come last year”—she paused dramatically—“but now that you’re working with Logan and some time has passed, I hope you’ll join us again. Although it’s past the deadline, I’ll make an exception for you.”

Claire tightened her grip on her cart, wishing she could disappear into another time and place. There’d be no easy way to decline this personal appeal, and she couldn’t afford to have Mrs. Prescott turn against her in this small town.

“I don’t really have the money to spare this year . . .” Humbling as that confession was, it was easier than showing up to a Prescott event and having to deal with Peyton—and everyone else watching her deal with Peyton—for hours.

“Oh, come now. Surely Logan’s paying you a nice commission. And the foundation really counts on locals to help promote the cause. Besides, you can network your little butt off, hobnobbing with all the guests. Play your cards right and you’ll walk out with a few new projects in your pocket.”

Logan must’ve inherited his talent for manipulation through pointed logic from his mother. Claire couldn’t deny the truth in Mrs. Prescott’s claims. She and Steffi could work the party for leads. Ben would be there, hopefully without a date. She could impose upon him to run interference with Peyton. And she did always love seeing Logan in a tux. “Good point. Guess I’d better send a check and scare up a cocktail dress.”

“Wonderful! I’ll make some introductions for you, too. Just interrupt me when you see me. You know how busy I get once the party begins.”

“Thank you.” Those words chafed her throat on their way out. Another Prescott she’d have to thank when all she’d wanted for the past year or so was to wipe that name from her memory. “Take care.”

Claire steered her cart around Mrs. Prescott and dive-bombed the checkout line, grabbing a pack of gum, a small bag of M&M’s, and a People magazine while waiting to pay her bill. She ripped open the M&M’s with her teeth and started guzzling them before she got to the car.

On the drive home, Logan called. Two Prescotts in ten minutes?

“Hello?”

“Claire, it’s Logan. Checking in to see how it’s going with my design.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Where are you now?”

She hesitated, unwilling to get roped into meeting him anywhere. She needed to regroup. “On my way home from the market. I just bumped into your mother, actually. She extended a personal invitation to attend the gala.”

“Did she?” He paused. “Well, now I have one reason to look forward to that night.”

She almost ran the stop sign, then slammed on the brakes. “Oof.”

“What just happened?”

“Nothing. Just . . . nothing.” She closed her eyes and slapped her cheek. Focus!

“Have you heard from the Wagners yet?” His coy tone made her stomach flutter.

She hung her head and sighed before admitting defeat. “Today, actually. I planned to call you later.”

“Why do I think you might’ve put that off a bit longer?” The little chuckle in his voice caused another quiver in her core.

“Can you meet me there tomorrow morning?”

“No, actually, I need to run to the city tomorrow.”

“Oh.” The crashing disappointment flashed like a yellow traffic light, warning her that she’d better work harder to kill her feelings where Logan Prescott was concerned. “Well, send me a few dates that you’re available, and I’ll set it up.”

“I will, but let’s circle back a sec. You haven’t said much about my design. Are you having trouble?”

“No,” she said, realizing too late that her overly bright voice might’ve given away the truth.

“Liar.”

She grimaced. “I’m not lying. I’m just . . . a little stuck. Haven’t hit the right note yet.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” He sniggered.

Did he suspect her crush on him made her unable to do her job? How utterly unprofessional. For once in her life, she wished she were more sophisticated. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

“You need to see the space, Claire. Come with me tomorrow. You’ll get a better feel for everything when you’re there, and I’ll have you back before dinner.”