Sweet Trilogy. Susan Mallery
exactly welcome here.
Fortunately, for once her sister was silent.
Lisa’s gaze flickered over Nicole, then returned to her. “Everything seems to be fine on that front. I assume you’re returning to New York shortly?”
“I am not.”
“What about the fall schedule? It’s already half the dates it should be. If you are not out there, people will forget who you are. Brilliance isn’t enough. You know that. You know how easily everything can be lost.”
It was a message Claire had been hearing for years. She’d once heard a university professor complaining about the “publish or perish” rule. For Claire it was “perform or perish.”
“I can’t take anything on right now,” she said firmly. “I have no idea when I’ll be returning to any kind of schedule.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”
Claire wanted to ask if she remembered what had happened the last time she’d gone on stage. How she’d collapsed and humiliated herself. How the panic had won. But she was too aware of Nicole listening and too ashamed to tell her sister the truth.
“There are people depending on you,” Lisa continued. “You are an industry. People’s livelihoods are at stake.”
Another line Claire had heard dozens of times. Couldn’t Lisa get some new material?
“Mostly yours,” she snapped. “If you want to resign as my manager, I don’t have a problem with that.”
Lisa took a step back. “No. That’s not what I mean.” She cleared her throat. “Claire, dear. I had no idea you were so upset. Of course you must have time with your family. I shouldn’t push you.”
It was amazing how Lisa could play both sides of good cop, bad cop and never miss a step.
Claire hated this. Hated having to disappoint people, hating not being able to play. But that’s where she was right now—trapped with a talent she couldn’t use. She was bone tired and not willing to get back onto the treadmill that was her life. She was tired of making decisions based on what everyone else wanted. What about what she wanted?
An excellent question, if only she had an answer.
“It doesn’t matter if you push me,” she said. “I’m not changing my mind. I’m here until Nicole is better. I might stay longer, I don’t know. I’m not willing to make any commitments for the fall or any other time. I won’t be pushed. So you need to just back the hell off.”
Lisa stared at her for a long time. “All right. I can see you’re not ready to come home. That’s fine. I’ll wait. You know how to find me.”
Claire nodded but didn’t speak. She stayed where she was until Lisa had left, then collapsed onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands.
“Impressive,” Nicole said. “You really stood up to her.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Claire dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m shaking.”
“That’ll pass. She’s really your manager?”
“Has been since I was twelve.”
“She’s scary.”
“Tell me about it. But she’s also the best. There are a lot of talented musicians out there who haven’t had half the opportunities I have.”
Nicole settled into a chair across from the sofa. “She talked about your concert dates, the practice, fittings, media interviews. Is that a regular day?”
Claire leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. “Pretty much. There isn’t a lot of free time. Sometimes I feel like those hamsters in a cage, running on a wheel. You go and go, but you don’t get anywhere and the view never changes. I will say it’s gotten easier. I know a lot of the music. When I was younger, I had to learn everything. That was a nightmare.”
She paused, then braced herself for the sarcastic attack to follow. Nicole wasn’t one to walk away from a good comeback.
But her sister only said, “It sounds tough.”
Claire opened her eyes. “Are you feeling all right? Do you have a fever?”
Nicole shifted in her seat. “No. I’m fine. It’s possible that after talking to Lisa I’ve come to see that maybe your life isn’t as princessy as I’d first thought. That there might be actual work involved.”
“Oh, really.” Claire sat up and smiled. “Which would mean you’re…”
“What?”
“You know. Say it. If you’re not right, you’re…”
Nicole shook her head. “Forget it. We’re not going there. I’m saying I might have been misinformed. That’s as good as you’re getting.”
“Wrong,” Claire told her. “The word you’re looking for is wrong.”
“Never. So you stayed to have dinner with Wyatt?”
“Uh-huh. We went out. Amy’s great. I really like her a lot.”
“How do you feel about Wyatt?”
Claire had the sudden sense of stepping into dangerous territory. “He’s a great dad. Patient and caring. Those two obviously love each other.”
Nicole studied her for a long time. “They do. Amy’s his world.”
“I can really tell. He, uh, isn’t seeing anyone, is he?”
Nicole stood. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I just wondered. He’s really nice and it seems like he would have remarried again.”
Nicole’s expression hardened. The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. “I can’t believe it,” she yelled. “You’re attracted to him? No way. You are so not dating him. You can just forget it. He’s my friend. Mine. Do you hear me? It’s bad enough that Jesse slept with Drew. There is no way in hell you’re going to sleep with Wyatt.” With fists clenched, Nicole made an abrupt about-face and left the room.
CHAPTER TEN
CLAIRE HAD NEVER BEEN on a construction site before. She got out of her car and looked for the trailer Wyatt had described. She saw it off to one side, but instead of heading directly toward it, she paused to look at what was going on.
The huge space had been cleared of most of the trees, although there were still several in what she guessed would be backyards. A few of the houses were already framed, while others were little more than stakes pushed into dirt. Big, loud equipment dug out foundations and moved soil.
She’d never thought about all the effort that went in to building a house. Or several houses. It looked complicated, and almost miraculous. How could someone create a house from nothing? How did anyone know what to do first, then second and so on until it was finished? Who figured all that stuff out?
Not a question she was going to get answered just standing here, she reminded herself and walked toward the trailer.
She was about halfway there, when a tall, thin man with a mustache stopped her.
“Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve seen all morning,” he said with a smile. “I’m Spike. Who are you?”
Spike? She’d never met anyone called Spike before. She took in the tattoos on his arm, his University of Washington T-shirt and the big smile that seemed to welcome her. She appreciated his friendliness.
“I’m Claire. I’m looking after Wyatt’s daughter. He forgot to sign a permission slip so I brought it by.”
Spike