The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(92)

Her words echoed what Claire had argued to Logan, but hearing it coming from Peyton made it sound so lame . . . and really, really boring.

Besides, Logan might not know what he needed, but Claire did. Despite his desire to sail the seas and win awards, Logan craved a real home. He didn’t yet realize that, and he might never see it, so Claire had yanked her heart safely ashore.

Sitting in Arcadia House, she couldn’t help but remember how Logan had spoken of his great-grandfather—the hero who’d inspired his ambition and also the man who’d made him feel treasured right here in this place.

“Peyton, before I go, do you have any old photos of Logan and your great-grandfather lying around? I want to put a personal touch on his condo design.”

She shrugged. “We could check some old boxes in the attic. My mom isn’t the most sentimental, but she never throws away anything to do with Duck.”



Claire dug into the peach pie and ice cream her mom had set in front of her after dinner, because the three brownies she’d scarfed down earlier hadn’t quite managed to quell her nerves about the impending cruise or Logan’s safety. “This is delicious.”

“Well, you’ve been so busy lately I needed to lure you into hanging out with Dad and me awhile longer.” She sat beside Claire and smiled at her husband from across the table.

This scene had repeated weekly throughout most of Claire’s life. Love. Family. Familiarity. It reassured her even though she’d started to yearn for more than mere comfort.

“Sounds like you’ve worked out your business issues on your own.” Her dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Claire Bear.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She sipped her decaf coffee. It never took much to earn her parents’ praise. Poor Logan, on the other hand, never got any from his father. No wonder he was always risking his life to find proof of his worth elsewhere. “Redecorating Logan’s apartment got the ball rolling, and then Mrs. Brewster. Did I tell you she sent us a referral? Another nice bathroom-remodeling job. Now, if Mr. Prescott accepts my proposal for those hotels, I’ll be able to afford a small retail space in town this year.”

“What hotels?” Her mom’s brows arched.

This would go over like the Hindenburg, which was probably why she’d never before mentioned the possibility to her parents. “He’s buying a chain of old inns along the Atlantic coast and asked for my advice about giving them an interior face-lift. I just submitted a formal proposal for the work today. Six hotels will yield a nice commission and get Lockwood & McKenna some really nice press.”

“But . . . won’t you have to travel to visit those places in order to do a good job?” Worry lines gathered on her mom’s forehead and around her mouth.

Even her father’s smile transformed to a concerned frown. “How far will you have to go? You said old . . . are they in run-down neighborhoods?”

Their words stoked her own fear, but she had to fight the cycle. “They’re in small beach communities like in Mystic.”

Her mom stared into her coffee cup, her face taking on a judgmental expression. “I’m surprised you’d want to work with the Prescotts after everything with Peyton and Logan . . .”

Claire pushed her empty plate away and shoved her seat back an inch or two to make room for her expanding stomach. “Peyton hurt me, and believe me, I haven’t forgotten. But she’s been through a lot, and maybe we’ve all suffered enough. Lately, holding on to a grudge seems pointless. It’s not making me happier and, in fact, might be keeping me from being happy. She’s home for a while, and we have to get along to plan Steffi’s bridal shower, so I’m trying to find forgiveness. Today we decided to rent a yacht and plan a sunset cruise for the party.”

Her stomach would’ve lurched again if it hadn’t been stuffed full of sugary baked goods.

“On the ocean?” Her mother’s fingers clutched her coffee mug so tightly the tips turned white. “What’s wrong with the private party room at Lucia’s?”

“Steffi and Ryan overcame a lot of heartache and past mistakes to reunite.” She didn’t elaborate because very few people knew about the sexual assault. “They deserve something special. Something memorable.”

“It’ll be memorable if someone falls overboard!” Her mom huffed.

“Mom.” Claire forced a chuckle to ease the tension, although she still battled her own anxiety. “No one will fall overboard.”

“You never know. Things happen.” She pointed a finger at Claire. “Drunk people do stupid things.”

Her dad was now popping giant red grapes like Claire did M&M’s, but remained silent on the subject.

“We’re not throwing a frat party.” Claire reached for her mom’s hand and squeezed. “Please, I’m almost thirty-one, not ten.”

Her dad started choking and pounding on his chest, drawing her and her mother’s concerned attention.

“Dad, are you okay?” Claire’s pulse sped up.

His face turned pale blue, and he raised one hand in the air as the choking stopped and no air went in or out of his chest.

“Oh my God, Tom!” her mom shrieked, although panic seemed to paralyze her, as she sat there, blinking and shaking.