The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(16)
Quite a different look from the tennis whites she’d worn years ago when in training. That was before Claire had been one of the victims of the sociopath who’d unloaded his gun at an outlet mall thirty minutes from town. At fifteen, she’d undergone multiple surgeries to repair all the damage the bullet had done when it shattered her acetabulum, and months of rehab before she could walk again.
Steffi remembered helping pack boxes with Claire’s tennis rackets, outfits, and other gear. Mrs. McKenna had wanted all reminders of that promising tennis career put away before Claire came home. But as difficult as that time had been, what Peyton now faced would be worse, and the future less certain.
Steffi nodded, unable to speak, thanks to the increasing thickness in her throat. She couldn’t predict how Claire would react to the news, but Steffi had to tell her.
Claire hobbled up the two steps to the porch and flung the thick book on the rattan chair. She fingered the leaves of the potted soft shield fern in the hanging basket. “Are things on schedule at the Quinns’?”
“Yes, taskmaster,” Steffi teased, latching on to the opportunity to procrastinate. “Demolition is on track.”
“I don’t mean to push, but you know we’ve sunk everything into this business. Can’t afford to fail.” Claire adjusted her headband to keep her auburn hair out of her eyes and grinned again, unburdened by the bad news that had tied Steffi into a giant knot.
“We won’t fail.” She had never failed at anything and didn’t plan to start now.
“Don’t jinx us with that kind of talk.” Claire’s anxiety—also a side effect of what had happened to her—colored most of her thoughts. She’d remained in the bubble of Sanctuary Sound all these years. Although she’d never quite regained all the spirit she’d had before that incident, Steffi admired Claire’s ability to channel her energy into a new passion. “While I was at Donatella’s Tile Emporium, I met a woman who was browsing for countertops. Apparently, she and her husband just put money in escrow on a place on Hightop Road. We talked for a while, so I gave her my card. I think we’ll be hearing from her.”
“That’s great.” Steffi worked up a smile for her eager, earnest friend, who was better at client leads and relationships than she could ever be. Their complementary skills would no doubt help them succeed.
“I wish we had a few more projects completed so we could revamp our website gallery page. But between the Quinns and this potential project, we’ll have some new work to show prospective customers by Christmas. New business stress aside, this is all much more fun than working at the Ethan Allen store in Madison.” Then, as if finally taking a minute to look at Steffi, she asked, “What’s got your tongue?”
Steffi drew a deep breath, rocking slightly while clutching her stomach. “I spoke with Peyton earlier.”
Claire’s face paled so much even her freckles turned white. Her entire being stiffened as she held up one hand. “Stop!”
“Wait, Claire. This is important.”
Claire covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “I mean it. I don’t want to know if she’s getting engaged or anything else. Drop it.”
“Claire!” Steffi’s voice boomed with the force of a good left hook, at which point Claire’s eyes popped open and she dropped her arms to her sides. Before Steffi lost courage, she blurted, “Peyton has breast cancer.”
If she hadn’t been watching very carefully, she would’ve missed Claire’s thick swallow. Otherwise, Claire stood motionless and speechless for several seconds.
The world around them moved on as if that statement meant nothing. Bubba barked when Sammy Marsh bolted into the street to retrieve the errant football. The Mannings’ car crunched against the gravel next door when it pulled into the driveway. Meanwhile, Steffi waited.
“I’m hungry,” Claire finally said, her voice rough, as if those words had been dragged across sandpaper. “I’ll fix us a salad.”
She crossed to the screen door, cane thumping on the wood porch with her uneven gait, and went inside, leaving the sample book behind.
Well, that went well.
If she’d hoped that the news would’ve tugged at some sympathetic cord in Claire’s heart and opened a door to reconciliation, she’d been mistaken. Steffi eased off the swing and snatched the sample book.
Once inside, she set it on the entry table. The tiny rented home’s bright and airy appeal didn’t decrease the tension. Steffi stood in the living room, counting to ten, letting her gaze wander from the creamy-white walls to the dove-gray woodwork and brick fireplace to the sparse charcoal-colored furnishings with pops of turquoise. Breathe.
Steffi strode to the back of the house, shoes thudding against the hardwood, where she found Claire standing at the kitchen sink, staring blankly out the back window. Without facing Steffi, she said, “I can’t forgive her just because she’s sick. I don’t wish cancer on her, though.”
“Of course you don’t.” Steffi’s stomach tightened when thinking of the final bit of news she’d yet to share. If Claire freaked at hearing Peyton’s name, she might lose her mind when Steffi mentioned Todd. “Not that you care, but Todd left her when they got the news.”
Claire’s head drooped as if it couldn’t bear the weight of her disappointment over who her ex had turned out to be. “He’s scum, but I sure don’t feel sorry for her about him.”