Delivered with Love (6 page)

"Nice to
meet
you, Claire." Michael gave Blake a steely look. "Hope to see you again."

Michael shut the door behind him. He hopped in his car and drove in the direction of the office. The meeting was optional, but he felt compelled to leave the rental for reasons he didn't understand. Had he met Claire before? Where? When?

C
laire stared at the business card in her hand.
Michael Thompson.
That's why he looked familiar. He had attended her mother's funeral. His three-piece suit and beautiful wife on his arm had made him stand out. She heard the click of the door and Michael's car pulling away.

"So, that about wraps it up." Blake's voice interrupted her thoughts as he approached. "Need a ride? It's pouring."

He was nice . . . and attractive.
"Sure. Thanks." Claire tucked the business card in her coat pocket, folded the rental application in half, and slid it in her purse. "Can you drop me off at the pizza place in Capitola Village? I'm hungry." She remembered the twenty dollars Geraldine gave her and the pizza parlor she passed on her way to the rental. Her cheeks warmed. Since when had she been so open in front of a guy—a stranger, no less?

Blake chuckled. "Okay. Pizza My Heart it is. I'll get my truck. Wait here." He locked the front door, jogged across the lawn, and climbed into a white Ford F-150 parked in his driveway. She slipped into her rain boots and grabbed Nancy's green umbrella as Blake pulled up to the curb.

Claire could feel his eyes on her as she descended the few stairs. She approached the truck self-conscious of every move. As she reached for the handle, the door flew open with such force that it knocked her to the ground. She found herself sprawled among the row of bushes and small plants that lined the sidewalk.

Blake jumped out of his truck and ran to her side. "Claire, are you okay?" He pulled her to her feet and tenderly picked the grass and leaves out of her hair. "I pushed the door open. So much for being a gentleman."

Claire looked down at herself. Her jeans were soaking wet, and the green umbrella was twisted and torn. At least it had broken her fall. "On second thought, drop me off at the house where I'm staying." Claire hobbled to the truck and slid into the passenger seat, her wet jeans sticking to the leather.

Blake muscled the green umbrella shut and tossed it into the bed of the truck before hopping into the driver's seat next to her. "I owe you at least a slice of pizza."

"But I'm soaked. You don't need to do that." Claire stared straight ahead. One look into his eyes and she'd change her mind for sure.

"I knocked you to the ground and ruined your umbrella. It's the least I can do." Blake turned the key and pulled away from the curb and the small rental house. "We'll get it to go."

She could think of a few things she needed—her car to be fixed, a job, and money to rent the house. Her mind turned from her selfish thoughts. She glanced at Blake as he drove. Nice profile. And his hair curled perfectly over his collar. Her stomach growled. "Okay. One slice."

"Great. I know the owner. He makes the best pizza sauce. "Blake made a couple of left turns. "The lunch crowd will start coming in soon, so our timing couldn't be better."

He was wrong. Claire saw the CLOSED sign first. There were "Dangerous Surf" signs posted all along the beach. The waves crashed hard against the shore coming all the way up to the row of shops and businesses. There would be no pizza today.

"Another time." Blake merged into traffic. "Where does your friend live?"

Claire retraced her steps in her mind. What was the name of Tom and Nancy's street? Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Haley. Should she answer the call? Her sister must be sick with worry over her hasty departure.

"Why haven't you returned any of my calls?" Her sister's voice sounded angry, controlling, and a bit motherly.
Nothing's changed.

"Wait a minute, Haley."

Claire motioned for Blake to take a right-hand turn, "I think it's a couple of streets down on your right." She remembered that the streets were named after jewels. She breathed a sigh of relief that the houses looked familiar. "That's it. Turn on Emerald Street."

Blake nodded.

She brought her cell phone to her ear. "Okay, I'm back."

"It's so good to hear your voice." Haley seemed to have calmed down. "I didn't think you'd leave. Where are you?"

"Capitola—a small town in Santa Cruz."

Blake turned down Emerald Street and gestured to Claire.

Claire motioned for him to keep going.

"What's in Capitola?"

Claire put up her hand for Blake to stop and pointed to Tom and Nancy's house. She maneuvered herself out of the truck. Blake joined her and grabbed the disjointed umbrella.

"Hold on, Haley." Claire held the cell phone against her chest and took the broken umbrella. "Thank you for the ride."

"No problem." Blake ran a hand through his dark hair. "It'd be nice to have you for a neighbor. Maybe we can get that pizza another time." He waved. "See you later."

Claire watched him get back in his truck and drive off. She almost forgot Haley was waiting for her. "I'll tell you what's in Capitola. Mom's old love." She stuck her hand inside her coat pocket.

The business card was gone.

T
he sound of a fire truck caught Claire's attention. She tucked her purse and the broken umbrella under her arm and walked between the palm trees toward the Daniels' front door as she finished her conversation with her sister.

"What do you mean Mom's old love?" Haley's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"It's a long story, but I'll let you know if I find him."

"So you're still stuck in the past."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Haley, I've gotta go."

"I finally get ahold of you, and you want to hang up on me?" Haley's voice rose.

"I'm starting my own life—like you said, make friends and go out on dates." Claire turned and looked down the street where Blake had driven merely moments before.

"But do you need to be so far away?" Haley sniffed and blew her nose.

Claire held the phone away from her ear. Was her sister acting overly dramatic? "Give me time. I promise, I'll let you know where I end up. Okay?"

The front door burst open. Tom stood with his hand on his hip and a scowl on his face. "There you are."

"Gotta go." Claire snapped her cell phone shut. "I'm sorry about your umbrella." She set the contraption on the porch and gave a sheepish grin. "I needed a walk. You know, to clear my head. Where's Nancy?"

"In the kitchen." Tom stepped back and allowed Claire to walk through. "We need to talk."

Claire's insides twisted. Now what? Were they ready to toss her out? She deserved nothing better. Claire laid her purse on the bench inside the door, shrugged out of her coat, and hung it on the rack. "Mind if I change first? I'm soaked."

"Nancy and I will be waiting in the kitchen."

The aroma of tomatoes, hamburger, and spices tickled her nose. Her mouth watered. She closed the bedroom door behind her, wiggled out of her wet jeans, and pulled on a pair of sweat pants.

Once in the kitchen, Nancy scooped her a big bowl of chili. "We can't talk on an empty stomach." She dished up two more servings. "I hope you like this. It's my mother's recipe."

Claire set the bowl down and took a seat. "Thank you. "Tom sat to her left and Nancy to her right.

"We want the truth." Tom's deep voice startled her.

Claire dropped her spoon into the bowl in front of her. "The truth?" She gulped.

"Let the woman enjoy her food." Nancy chided. "While it's hot."

Tom glared at his bowl, dug his spoon into his chili, and shoved it in his mouth. "After we eat, then."

Claire took small spoonfuls. She wondered what had caused the interrogation. Tom's attitude toward her had changed. Nancy's eyes still held a sadness that Claire didn't understand. She picked up her glass of water. The cool liquid helped her keep her meal down, but it didn't do anything to get rid of the lump that was lodged in her throat.

Nancy stood and ladled another bowlful of chili for her husband.

Tom grunted a "thank you" and started in on his second helping.

Claire felt like running. She didn't need these people to help her. The twenty-dollar bill from Geraldine once again flashed in her mind. She could use the money to take a bus to Monterey and then figure out what to do from there. She'd deal with her car tomorrow. But the truth of her situation made her pulse race. Could she make it on her own or should she go back to L.A.? A soft moan escaped her lips. She couldn't go anywhere until her car was fixed. Claire's eyes darted from Tom to Nancy.

In a moment of panic, she jumped up from her seat and bolted down the hall to the guest room.

"Claire?" She heard Nancy's voice on the other side of the door ten minutes later. "Can I come in?"

Claire didn't feel like talking. She hugged a pillow tight to her chest.

"Claire. Everything will be all right. Please open the door."

The sweetness in Nancy's voice reminded her of her mother. Tossing the pillow aside, Claire pushed herself off the bed and made the few steps to the door. "Come in."

Nancy had a glass of milk in one hand and a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in the other. "Lunch isn't complete without dessert." She set them on the nightstand, then turned to face Claire. "I don't mean to pry, but where are you from and what are you doing here in Capitola?" Her voice was kind.

Even so Claire's palms began to sweat. "I drove up from L.A. to start a new life. Now I need a job so I can get my car fixed and rent my own place." She followed Nancy to the side of the bed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. But Tom offered, and I didn't know what to do—"

"You did the right thing. And we're happy to have you here. Oh, don't mind Tom. He's going through a rough patch lately—we both are. But we want you to know that you're welcome to stay until you find a place."

Why would these people be so friendly to her? It's as if she were a long-lost relative returning home.

Nancy sat on the edge of the bed. "The truth of the matter is Tom and I wanted to know where you went
this morning.
And when Tom looked out the window and saw you with that man, we didn't know what to think."

Claire's breath caught in her throat. "I only met him."

Nancy's brows shot up.

Suddenly Claire felt like a teenager. "No, it's coming out all wrong." She paced the room. "I went looking for a particular house this morning and found out it's for rent. By the time I wanted to come back, it was raining so hard the
neighbor
gave me a ride."

Claire could tell Nancy was deep in thought by the way she furrowed her brows and worked her lower lip. "Where is this house you're interested in?" Nancy grabbed one of the cookies and took a bite, then gestured for Claire to join her.

"Depot Hill." Claire broke a cookie in half, dipped it in milk, and popped the soggy bite into her mouth.

"Nice area. Homes for rent don't come up there very often. "Nancy had a lilt to her voice. "Why don't you show me?"

Why would Nancy want to see the house on Saxon Avenue? It didn't make sense.

Fire trucks blocked Saxon Avenue. "What's going on?" Claire shifted from side to side in the passenger's seat of Nancy's Toyota Camry. "Do you want to park here and walk since it's stopped raining?"

Nancy swerved to the right and pulled next to the curb on Central Avenue. Claire hopped out of the car and fell in beside Nancy as they trekked around the corner to see the emergency.

Claire's heart pounded. If anything happened to
her
house . . . she rolled her eyes at the thought. Of course it wasn't her house yet. She'd need a miracle. But Claire didn't believe in miracles, not like her mother. "I'll get well, you'll see," her mom had said countless times, even when she was close to death. And did she? No! So much for miracles.

Claire tugged on Nancy's arm. "You're a nurse. Someone might need you."

Nancy quickened her pace. "I don't see an ambulance."

Claire spotted Blake. He was talking to a fireman. "Nancy, come on!" Claire sprinted through the puddles toward the crowd that had formed. Dark, billowing smoke dissipated as the firemen doused the right side of Blake's gray house.

"Blake!" Claire approached him with tentative steps.

He stared straight ahead. He blinked a few times and wiped his face with the cuff of his flannel shirt. Claire sidled up next to him. "What happened?" Maybe he'd rather not talk to her. After all, they barely knew each other.

"It's my fault." Blake shrugged his shoulders.

Claire touched his arm, then pulled her hand back. "What do you mean?"

"I left a dish towel too close to my gas stove while a burner was on."

"When?"

"Earlier today. I was making a pot of soup for lunch when I saw you through the window and grabbed the keys for the rental. I thought I turned it off, but apparently it was still on low."

Blake folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

Nancy came up beside them. "I heard a fireman say you had a kitchen fire. I'm glad you weren't hurt. As a nurse I've seen far too many burn victims."

Claire's stomach churned. The fire could've been prevented if she hadn't let Blake show her the rental. Why had she bothered? She couldn't afford the house anyway. Guilt nagged at her.

"I bought the house six months ago. The kitchen is what sold me on the place." Blake sighed. "I'd better check out the damages and see if anything's salvageable." He nodded a farewell and joined the firemen standing on his front porch.

"At least the fire didn't consume the whole house." Nancy rubbed her arms. "It's chilly out here. Can we see the rental now?"

Claire pointed next door.

"
Blake's
the neighbor?"

"Can we go? I've changed my mind." Claire glanced at Blake, then walked down the sidewalk. A small white card was wedged in the bushes in front of the rental house. She leaned down and picked it up. Michael Thompson's business card. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she fell. The memory of Blake helping her up and picking the debris out of her hair brought a smile to her face. But how could she face him again?

"Claire? Wait a minute. Did I miss something?"

Claire walked down the street toward Nancy's car. "Blake does
not
want me for a neighbor."

"I didn't get that impression."

"The fire is my fault. If he hadn't shown me the place, the fire never would've started." Claire took quick steps toward Central Avenue. She glanced over her shoulder. Nancy stood with her hands on her hips in the middle of the street. Claire spun around. "What? Can we go?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not until I see the place."

"Why? I can't afford it anyway." Claire grabbed the collar of her jacket and pulled it tighter around her neck. "It's cold out here. Can we please leave?"

"Claire, I know we've only just met, but I feel God sent you to Capitola for a reason. Please, let me help you."

First Geraldine, then Pearl and Harry, and now Tom and Nancy. She'd never been helped so much in all of her life and didn't know what to make of it. Her insides shivered.

Nancy interrupted her musings. "Look, I have an idea. But before I tell you, I'll need to see the house."