CLAIRE KEYES jumped to answer the phone when it rang, deciding an angry call from her manager was more appealing than sorting the pile of dirty clothes in the middle of her living room.
âHello?â
âHi. Um, Claire? Itâs Jesse.â
Not her manager, Claire thought, relieved. âJesse who?â
âYour sister.â
Claire kicked aside a blouse and sank onto the sofa. âJesse?â she breathed. âItâs really you?â
âUh-huh. Surprise.â
Surprise didnât begin to describe it. Claire hadnât seen her baby sister in years. Not since their fatherâs funeral when sheâd tried to connect with all the family she had left only to be told that she wasnât welcome, would never be welcome and that if she was hit by a bus, neither Jesse nor Nicole, Claireâs fraternal twin, would bother to call for help.
Claire still remembered being so stunned by the verbal attack that sheâd actually stopped breathing. Sheâd felt as if sheâd been beaten up and left on the side of the road. Jesse and Nicole were her family. How could they reject her like that?
Not knowing what else to do, sheâd left town and never returned. That had been seven years ago.
âSo,â Jesse said with a cheer that seemed forced. âHow are you?â
Claire shook her head, trying to clear it, then glanced at the messy apartment. There were dirty clothes piled thigh-high in her living room, open suitcases by the piano, a stack of mail she couldnât seem to face and a manager ready to skin her alive if that would get her to do what she wanted.
âIâm great,â she lied. âAnd you?â
âToo fabulous for words. But hereâs the thing. Nicole isnât.â
Claire tightened her grip on the phone. âWhatâs wrong with her?â
âNothing ⦠yet. Sheâs going to have surgery. Her gallbladder. Thereâs something weird about the placement or whatever. I canât remember. Anyway, she canât have that easy surgery with the tiny incisions. The lapi-something.â
âLaparoscopic,â Claire murmured absently, eyeing the clock. She was due at her lesson in thirty minutes.
âThat one. Instead, theyâre going to be slicing her open like a watermelon, which means a longer recovery time. With the bakery and all, thatâs a problem. Normally Iâd step in to help, but I canât right now. Things are ⦠complicated. So we were talking and Nicole wondered if you would like to come back home and take care of things. She would really appreciate it.â
Home, Claire thought longingly. She could go home. Back to the house she barely remembered but that had always placed so large in her dreams.
âI thought you and Nicole hated me,â she whispered, wanting to hope but almost afraid to.
âWe were upset before. It was an emotional time. Seriously, weâve been talking about getting in touch with you for a while now. Nicole would have, um, called herself, but sheâs not feeling well and she was afraid youâd say no. Sheâs not in a place to handle that right now.â
Claire stood. âI would never say no. Of course Iâll come home. I really want to. Youâre my family. Both of you.â
âGreat. When can you get here?â
Claire looked around at the disaster that was her life and thought about the angry calls from Lisa, her manager. There was also the master class she was supposed to attend and the few she had to teach at the end of the week.
âTomorrow,â she said firmly. âI can be there tomorrow.â
âJUST SHOOT ME now,â Nicole Keyes said as she wiped down the kitchen counters. âI mean it, Wyatt. You must have a gun. Do it. Iâll write a note saying itâs not your fault.â
âSorry. No guns at my house.â
None in hers, either, she thought glumly, then tossed the dishcloth back into the sink.
âThe timing couldnât be worse for my stupid surgery,â she muttered. âTheyâre telling me I canât go back to work for six weeks. Six. The bakery isnât going to run itself. And donât you dare say anything about me asking Jesse. I mean it, Wyatt.â